Title: Fever Dreams

Author: Kaeera

E-Mail: kaeera@yahoo.de

Disclaimer: 'The Lord of the Rings' and all its characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pure fun and no money is made with it.

Rating: PG

Genre: Angst/Drama

Summary: While wandering through the rain, Aragorn becomes sick. However, not expecting it to be more than an usual cold, he doesn't act carefully - until it's too late...

Feedback: Always welcome, and constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Notes: This story plays before LOTR, when Aragorn is around 25 and lives at Rivendell with Elrond. I've gotten the idea to write such a fic while reading all stories of the 'Mellon Chronicles' by Cassia and Sio. I especially liked the story 'Sickness', and since I love a good portion of angst, I wanted to write my own, twisted story where I can torture Aragorn and Legolas....although I probably can never keep up with the two, they're such great writers. You don't need to read their stories to understand this one, you just need to know that Aragorn was raised in the house of Elrond, living together with his foster brothers Elladan and Elrohir. And he's a good friend of Legolas^^

Another thing: I'm German and live in Germany (whoa, logic^^). I learn English in school and am no native speaker. Therefore it can be that there'll be some mistakes, or that some sentences might sound awkward. I usually have my stories corrected by a beta-reader, so it shouldn't be that bad, but I find it incredibly difficult to describe scenes, so I'm sorry if that sounds a bit boring. It wasn't my intention.

Fever Dreams

by Kaeera

Chapter 1: Rain

Rain poured down in cascading waves, so thick that it was impossible to see more than a few feet beyond. Gray clouds covered the sky, crashing into each other and molding into different shapes, bringing more rain down onto the two travelers in the forest.

"This had to come," Aragorn muttered darkly, blinking through the raindrops. It was cold and his clothes were drained with icy water - not a very comfortable feeling.

"You have to see it this way - it's better than fighting against orcs," Legolas, his travelling companion, tried to lighten the situation. Since he was an elf, he didn't mind the cold temperatures as much as his human friend, but he too found the wetness uncomfortable.

"Right now I'd rather fight against something," the ranger grumbled, "Then I would at least become warm!"

This earned him a chuckle from his friend, who just shook his head. "We shall reach Rivendell during the next two hours, there you can rest and warm up," the elf shot a glance towards the human, "or should we search for a dry resting place now and continue after the rain has stopped?"

Aragorn sighed. "Legolas, there won't *be* a dry resting place in this rain. Let's just travel faster - the quicker we walk, the quicker I can change into dry clothes." He tried to wipe the water away from his face, but didn't succeed - the rain was falling that heavy that it was like walking through a lake.

It was quite ironical that it rained now, when they were travelling home from Mirkwood, and not during the sunny days they had spent there. The ranger resisted the urge to mutter a curse at his incredible luck; it seemed as if he and Legolas could never manage one journey without any problems. Surely, compared with other accidents they had managed to step into, this was harmless, but still...it *was* cold, his fingers were freezing and he was probably getting a cold out of this.

Right on cue he had to cough, which earned him a concerned glance of his elven friend. "Are you getting sick?" the archer asked, remembering the fact that humans tended to become sick, in opposite to elves.

"Ahh, I probably caught a cold in this weather," Aragorn waved it off, "That's the bad thing when you're human."

The concern didn't quite leave Legolas' face. "Estel, I don't know..." he said, addressing the ranger with his elven nickname, "If you are sick, it might be better if we rest..."

The ranger shot a glare towards his friend. "Honestly, I'm not deathly ill, it's just a little cold. It will get better as soon as we reach Rivendell and I can take a hot - very hot - bath."

Legolas shrugged, not quite convinced by this answer, but deciding that there was no way to change the human's opinion. "Somehow, we can never manage it to enter Rivendell at full health, can we? One of us is always injured, or sick, or unconscious...." He shook his head. "Your brothers will kill me."

"Well, they both have their share of dramatic homecomings themselves," Aragorn commented dryly and huddled together in his cloak, trying to get a bit warmer. "So they shouldn't be that big-mouthed. I remember that one time when Elrohir was shot by orcs and Elladan had to drag him home....father wasn't very pleased."

"I can see why," Legolas had to grin while imagining this scene.

It was very dark in the wood, although it wasn't even late afternoon, but thick, heavy clouds covered the sky and no sunlight could pierce through. The constant dripping of the raindrops made it impossible to hear anything else, a reason to be extra careful. A cold wind blew past them.

It hadn't been like that when they had wandered off from Mirkwood some days ago. Aragorn had visited Legolas for a month and now the prince was coming to see Rivendell, looking forward to meet the twin brothers and Elrond again. On their departure, the sun had been shining and not a single cloud had covered the sky.

The first days had been peaceful, no orc attack, no traps, no accidents and beautiful weather - it was just too good to be true.

That morning it had started to rain, only lightly at first, then heavier and heavier until the two friends were soaked to the bones. If Rivendell hadn't been near, they would have searched for a dry place to stay until the worst was over, but they were both eager to reach their goal.

The ground was muddy and often Aragorn would slip, only his fast reaction rescuing him from falling on the ground more than once. He rubbed his hands against each other in order to warm up his frozen fingers, but it was no use. Once again a cough escaped his lips, which caused Legolas to look at his friend.

"Don't even start," the ranger warned and continued to walk without another word. The elf shook his head and followed, but couldn't clear the worry from his face; he knew that his friend was cold and that it was doing nothing good if he was walking around in the rain like that.

Aragorn himself was rather grumpy. He found it highly irritating that it was only - and always - him who became sick. Plus, he knew that his father as well as his brothers would fuss over him as soon as he reached home and announced that he was sick (which he wouldn't, he silently promised himself, after all it was just a cold, after all!).

Sometimes it was really frustrating to live together with immortals, who thought of him as a child, even if he would count as an adult under humans with his twenty-five years.

The ranger rubbed his forehead and winced as a slight pain shot through his temples. Great. As if it wouldn't be enough to freeze like that, no, he had to get a headache, too. Rain continued pouring down the sky, trickled down his face and under his clothes. It was extremely uncomfortable.

The two walked at a steady pace through the trees, which didn't give them much shelter from the wetness. More than once a branch was moved by the wind and a flood of water splashed down on elf and human, soaking them even more, if that was possible.

Aragorn had just rubbed his eyes free as such a flood hit him at full force. He yelped as the icy water ran down his face and quickly jumped away, but it was too late. The ranger let out a frustrated growl while Legolas tried to suppress a snicker.

"You look like a drowned cat," he told his friend.

"Well, it won't be long and I'll *feel* like a drowned cat," was the gloomy reply as the human once more tried to dry his face, with the same result as ever - none.

*****************

"It is booooring," Elrohir sighed, tracing along the wooden table and glancing out of the window. The rain made it impossible to go outside and forced the twins to stay in the house, although they had planned to go hunting today.

"Then do something," was the calm reply of his brother, who sat in a corner of the room and was reading a book.

"What could I do?" his twin whined, "I can't get out in this weather!" He sounded more like a five-year-old than the immortal elf he was.

"You could, for example, clean the stables and stop going on my nerves," Elladan suggested, not once looking up from his book. He received an angry glare from the other elf.

"Very funny," Elrohir mumbled and continued staring into the rain. It didn't rain very often here in Rivendell, and when it did, then at full force. One was immediately soaked when one went outside in this weather, and although they both were not in danger to become sick, they didn't found it very amusing to hunt in this kind of weather. "I wonder what Estel and Legolas are doing." he mused, "Do you think they're out there in this weather?"

"Probably not," Elladan replied absently, "Nobody travels in such a weather, it's too uncomfortable. I bet not even the orcs leave their caves today. I guess they stayed at Mirkwood for a few more days."

"Yeah, but we're talking about Estel and Legolas!"

Elladan looked up. "Oh. Right," he frowned. "Well, then they *are* probably out there in this weather, and if they are I will have to teach Estel a lesson as soon as he comes home - he knows that he gets sick easier than we do!"

Elrohir shrugged. "And he probably forgot it, or he doesn't care. You know Estel." The elf stretched and looked once again out of the window. "Well, we don't even know if they are out there, so there is no use discussing it."

"May I remember you that it was you, my dear brother, who started this discussion?" Elladan raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Because I was bored. And I still am."

"That's your problem," the older twin turned back to the book he was reading and tuned everything else out.

"That's not fair," Elrohir grumbled, but was being ignored by his twin. "Elladan? Hey, Elladan?" He didn't receive a reply.

"Oh great!" the dark-haired elf rolled his eyes and stood up. "Well, maybe going to the stables isn't that a bad idea. At least the horses are a better entertainment than you." he walked to the door, waiting for a reaction.

But Elladan didn't hear him, or didn't want to hear him. Elrohir sighed once more and shook his head. "What a boring day," he murmured and left the room.

On the outside, the rain continued to fall on the roofs of Rivendell, filling every gap and hole in the whole area. A cold wind blew through the sky so that sometimes the raindrops weren't falling vertically, but nearly horizontally, if that was possible. A bad weather, indeed.

*****************

He was cold. He had been cold for the last hours and it was making him grumpy.

And he was wet. Dripping wet. His boots were full of mud, and the water had soaked them, too, so that with every step he made, it felt as if he was walking through water. It was difficult to move his cold, white fingers, and it cost all his will to keep his teeth from chattering.

The only thing Aragorn could think of was his warm room in Rivendell. He closed his eyes. Ahh, the possibility to change into wonderful dry and warm clothes, to drink a hot tea and eat something, to take a warm, thick blanket and lie down on the bed - no rain, no water, no cold wind, no freezing.

He was impatient to reach his home and quickened his pace, although his head was firmly protesting. The headache had increased during the last half hour, a dull pain behind his eyes which made it difficult for the young man to concentrate. His cough had increased, and more than once he found Legolas looking worriedly at him.

The elf was indeed concerned by the condition of his friend. He feared that the ranger might fall gravely ill if they didn't reach a dry place soon; and there was nothing he could do.

Aragorn stumbled about a tree root and would have fallen if Legolas hadn't caught him. "Easy, Strider," he scolded and gently helped the man to stand again. "You are really sick," he then stated, looking into the face of the human. The ranger's eyes were glazed, a sign of fever, and he coughed again.

"I hate it," croaked Aragorn and glared at his friend. "It's always me! It's unfair!"

Legolas smiled slightly. "Well, it doesn't lie in our power to change it, and right now I would rather see you in Rivendell than discussing about this topic. You have a fever, and this cough doesn't sound so good."

Aragorn nodded. "It won't be long now," he said, blinking through the rain and looking at the familiar surroundings. "We should reach Rivendell soon."

The elf nodded. "Then let us walk, my friend, for I really want to leave this unkindly weather."

The two started once again and wandered through the wet, dripping forest. The wind was blowing into their faces now, and with the wind the raindrops were coming, splattering against the skin of the two friends and rolling down their cheeks. They had to put their hands in front of their eyes in order to shelter them from the icy rain.

Legolas found himself hovering over his friend, carefully watching how he walked. He couldn't help it; as an elf he wasn't used to sickness, knew just how to treat bleeding wounds, but knew nothing about the cure of illnesses.

He had once experienced how Aragorn had become ill, and they had been in Rivendell then, with the help of Elrond. He certainly didn't want to live through the same out here in the woods without any help.

Therefore he was more than relieved as he finally saw the familiar buildings of Rivendell reach up from the trees. He flashed his friend a quick smile and guided the ranger through the entrance. Nobody could be seen, for everyone was inside the house, where it was warm and dry. Only the guards were outside and nodded them a short greeting.

Legolas walked up the stairway, followed by a tired and aching Aragorn and entered the palace. "Now you can get your warm bath," he smiled to the ranger and was once more concerned when he just received a weary nod. Maybe they should go to Elrond immediately...

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps which were coming nearer. Around the corner walked a very gloomy looking Elrohir.

However, the face of the elf immediately brightened as he recognized the two wet figures. "Estel! And Legolas!" he quickly walked nearer. "We were just talking about you, thinking that not even you were that stupid to travel in this weather, and there you are..." the twin shook amused his head.

"It wasn't our fault," Aragorn pointed out and coughed, "We were caught in surprise."

"Are you ill?" Elrohir wanted to know, totally ignoring the ranger's statement. He stepped nearer and pressed his hand on the forehead of the young man, causing Aragorn to jerk back. "You have a fever," he stated and sighed. "Seems that Elladan was right. You should better go and see father. Are you okay?" He asked Legolas.

"I'm well," the prince replied while trying to quench the water out of his long hair.

"Now that's a surprise," Elrohir muttered and clapped Aragorn on the back. "Come on, now, you will get even sicker when you stand around like that. Go to your room, fetch some dry clothes and I'll go and search out father."

The ranger didn't object, knowing that he wouldn't succeed - especially because he felt really sick. He went to his room and Legolas to the guestroom. It was a relief not to feel the water on one's face, and to walk around in a warm house instead of the cold forest.

Slowly his fingers were coming back to life again - they started to hurt. Figures.

Aragorn entered his room and leaned his head against the wooden door. He was feeling....very tired, still very cold and his head was hurting. He was just glad that he was home.

Slowly he pulled his shirt off, which was dripping with water, and threw it over a chair, took a towel and dried his soaking hair. Then he changed his clothes until he was wearing a dry outfit. Content to be relatively warm again, he let himself fall on the bed. His hair was still damp and his throat was hurting, but it didn't seem that bad now that he finally was at home.

Aragorn took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar smell of his home. Yep, he had really missed it.

It was so soft and nice on the bed that the man would have fallen asleep, if the door had not opened. He jerked up and saw Elrond entering, followed by Elrohir and right behind Elladan. A huge smile appeared on Aragorn's face and he quickly scrambled out of the bed. "Hello father," he smiled and hugged the elf.

Elrond returned the hug, glad that his foster son had again returned home, and this time relatively unharmed. "It's good to see you, Estel." he told the ranger and then looked closer at him. "Although you are ill, as Elrohir told me?"

"Just a cold, nothing more," Aragorn coughed.

Behind his father, Elladan sighed. "Estel, the day you and Legolas will come home without any injuries or sicknesses or poisoned wounds is the day orcs learn to fly! What did you think, travelling in this weather? You know that you get sick!"

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Hey, the weather was good in the morning and when it started raining, we were already on the way and there was no shelter. I can't do anything about the weather, you know, it's not that I wanted it to rain." He rubbed his aching eyes. "Believe me, I didn't want to become sick either."

"But..."

"Stop, you two," Elrond raised his hand. "It has happened and nothing can change it now. And you Estel," he placed his hand on his son's forehead, "you have a slight fever. You're right, it's probably just a cold, but we don't want to risk anything - after you've eaten something, I will make you a tea and then you will go to bed. Immediately."

The ranger sighed. "Yes, father." In truth he was quite happy about this suggestion, because he felt like he could drop any second now and sleep for days.

The lord left the room, while Elrohir and Elladan stayed behind. The twins plopped down beside their adopted brother, who blinked at them out of glazed eyes. Aragorn's headache was increasing, but he didn't want to show it, for he knew that it would only cause his brothers more concern. All he needed was rest, and that he would get.

"It's good to be home," he smiled and let himself fall on the bed again, closing his eyes.

"And it's good to have you back," Elrohir laughed. "It was getting boring without you two. Nothing happened, and we couldn't do anything because of the rain."

"*You* couldn't do anything, I was quite content in reading," Elladan pointed out.

"Yeah, whatever," Elrohir waved his twin off. "So tell me, Estel, what did happen to you in Mirkwood? And don't tell me nothing happened, because I won't believe that. You always get caught in an adventure if you're together with Legolas."

"I would rather express it the other way round," an amused voice interjected. Legolas, now in a new and clean outfit, had entered the room and walked smiling towards the three. "I always get caught in an adventure when I'm together with Strider. In this short time I've know him, I have endured more injuries and been caught in more dangerous situations than in the time before I knew him - and that has been quite long!" the prince laughed, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Aragorn chuckled softly. "Oh yes? Well, I guess I have just to live with the fact that danger awaits me everywhere." He grinned up at his friend, glad to be safe again.

The four chattered animatedly until the food was brought along with the tea Elrond had prepared. The elven lord chased the three elves out of Aragorn's room so that the ranger could sleep and cure his cold.

They laughed and shouted him a 'Good Night', which the ranger replied in rolling his eyes at them. His father also wished him a good night and shut the door.

Alone in his room, it didn't take long until Aragorn was fast asleep, curled up in his blankets while on the outside the rain still poured down from the sky as if there wasn't an end.

*****************

It was in the middle of the night when he woke up again. The fire had nearly died, just a dark red gloom was filling the room with its light.

At first Aragorn was disorientated and didn't know why he had woken up. He raised his head - and started coughing. The coughs were coming out deep from his lungs and hurt in his chest. He tried to take a deep breath, but failed miserably.

The fit didn't stop, instead it became more difficult for him to breath. The ranger tried to suppress it, but it only made things worse. His whole body jerked with the coughs, and when the fit finally stopped, he sank exhausted down on the pillow.

A hammering pain in his head which made it impossible to focus on anything, and he blinked wearily, once again cursing his luck. He was sweating, and yet it was cold. Aragorn buried himself deeper in his blankets, but it didn't seem to help; he shivered nonetheless. His throat hurt from the rough coughing fit.

The ranger groaned and put a pillow over his head. Being ill was far worse than having an open wound. It made ones mind hazy, and the fever made everything seem blurry.

He lay awake for quite some time, hoping that the pain would go away, but it didn't. Instead it was increasing, now partnered with a deep ache in his chest. Every breath he took rattled deep down, and Aragorn grew worried. This wasn't supposed to happen, had he caught a normal cold. It never hurt like that.

Slowly the young man tried to rise into a sitting position. The whole room whirled around him and he groaned once again, clutching his head. Another coughing fit made it impossible for him to move, and he spent the next minutes in desperately gasping for air. Sweat was rolling down his forehead.

Knowing that this wasn't normal, he decided to call one of his brothers, maybe they would help him. However, the more Aragorn moved, the more difficult it became for him to stay awake. His vision became black for a moment and his shaky legs wouldn't support the weight of his body. He only managed a few steps until he collapsed on the floor, pain burning now in his chest. He gasped for air, black spots in his vision.

Then welcoming darkness surrounded him and took the pain away.

Chapter 2: Nightmares

"Estel, what's wrong? Estel? Estel!"

"By Valar, he's burning with fever! Father, what happened?"

"I don't know. Carefully take him and lay him on his bed, I will examine him immediately."

Voices echoed around him. He couldn't make out who spoke, everything was a blur. He was being moved and laid down on a softer ground.

"This isn't a normal cold, is it?"

Worried voices spoke around him. Aragorn wanted to know what was happening, but he couldn't open his eyes. There was pain, yes, and it seemed as if it was the only thing that existed.

"I believe his lungs are infected, he has difficulties breathing," a deep voice with a concerned tone in it said. Aragorn immediately recognized it as Elrond's.

Every breath he took raced through his body like fire, and often a cough shook his body, leaving him weak and exhausted.

He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to tell them not to worry, but realized that he couldn't do so. The pain controlled everything, and Aragorn slipped back into unconsciousness.

Images were haunting his mind. He was running through the forest, followed by dark shadows, trying desperately to escape. They were everywhere and he had lost his sword as well as his arrows. He jumped over roots and stones, his breath fast and shallow. He knew that he couldn't keep this up any longer, but he had to escape, had to find a way...

The shadows laughed. Aragorn looked around and gasped in shock as he noticed how close they had come. He tried to quicken his pace, but his legs were tired and achy and wouldn't obey. He raced through the woods, avoiding the branches which snapped into his face, his mind whirling with fear. They couldn't catch him, they would kill him and...no, they just couldn't.

Once again he looked back and saw the shadowy figures, evil eyes shining through the black hoods and staring at him with a hungry gaze. He shivered at the pure evilness in their gaze.

The trees were opening to a small clearing. Aragorn ran through it, turning right. He didn't know where he was, he just ran blindly through the forest, searching for a way to find an escape, a safe place, or at least a weapon to fight....

He stumbled over a stone, nearly falling to the ground. His mind raced. If he fell, there wouldn't be time to stand up again, for the shadows were fast. He jumped over some bushes, wanted to run further...and stopped right in his track as a he realized that there wasn't any more wood in front of him, but a large, wild river.

The water was flowing very fast. Aragorn inwardly cursed, turning his head. The eyes of the ranger widened as he saw the shadows approaching. He had only two chances - either fighting with his bare hands or...he looked into the water. Even a very good swimmer would have had his problems in crossing this river, and Aragorn knew that his swimming skills weren't good enough to survive in such a wild river.

The decision was made as one of the shadows screeched in a horrible voice. Without even thinking further, the man leaped into the icy cold water.

Elrond looked worriedly down on his human son, once again placing his hand on the man's forehead. Aragorn was burning with fever, and every time he breathed, there was a deep, rattling sound in his chest which scared the elf. He knew everything about healing wounds, but his knowledge was limited when it came to human illnesses.

"What is wrong with him?" Elrohir asked, looking with wide, worried eyes at his father. It was him who had discovered Aragorn's sickness, for his room was nearest to the human's room.

Elrond shook his head. "He's very ill. It's not a normal cold, his lungs are affected, too." The elven lord scolded himself for not seeing this sooner. If his son died because of this...he would never forgive himself.

But now was not the time for guilt, they had to help him, and fast.

"We have to get him to drink this tea," Elrond instructed, "It will ease the cough a bit, although I can't fully suppress it, since it helps cleaning his lungs, but maybe it will ease his sleep a bit."

Legolas stayed behind, staring frightened at the shivering form of his friend. Oh, it was his fault...if he had just insisted on searching shelter in time, if they hadn't traveled through the rain...the pale face of Aragorn frightened him, and so did the coughing fits and the labored breathing; the elf had never experienced something like this before.

"Oh, Estel, please...." he whispered, frightened beyond scare. If this would be a fight, then he could do something, but standing helplessly and watching his friend struggle like that was....nerve-wracking.

****************

He was drowning! The cold water entered his lungs, and he coughed underwater, which only worsened the situation. Aragorn tried to swim, but there was water everywhere! He couldn't breathe, he just couldn't...

He started panicking and trashed wildly around with his arms and legs. The cold water was paralyzing him, and he just couldn't swim properly.
Then his head broke through the surface and he gasped for air. He was once again pulled under water by a wave hitting his head before he could finish his breath. The need for air became overwhelming and he felt his muscles slackening.

Aragorn opened his mouth and felt how the water entered his lungs. His eyes widened in panic.

He couldn't breathe! He was suffocating, he needed air, he would die, he...

"Come on, Estel, don't give up, just breathe!"

How could he? There was water everywhere! He couldn't breathe water, it would kill him.

"Hold him upright, he isn't getting enough air!"

"But why, father?"

"There's phlegm in his lungs which stops him from doing so. We have to get it out as soon as possible." The voices sounded panicked. "Estel, son, breathe!"

Father?

They were pleading desperately now.

Oh, and how he wanted to breathe. The problem was that he couldn't! Red spots clouded his vision as his body screamed for air he didn't receive. The icy water was everywhere around him, pulling him down.

Aragorn was scared. He didn't want to die, not yet! And he certainly didn't want to die like that. He had always expected to die in a battle, but not to drown in a river...

In the distance, he could hear the shadows laughing as he struggled for his dear life. He could hear clearly the painful thudding of his heart in his chest.

'Help me...'

"He doesn't respond!" the panicked voice of his brother, Elladan.

'What are they doing here?' the ranger wondered, while being pulled deeper under water. He had given up struggling now, his vision unfocused and blurry.

Strong arms wrapped around his upper body, shaking him forcefully. Voices shouted, people were running around and he was caught in the middle, unmoving.

'What is happening?' he sank deeper, slowly losing consciousness and becoming more aware of the rustling and voices. He was at two places at once, struggling in the water and lying in his bed in Rivendell. But in both places he couldn't breath and the pain in his chest seemed to be exploding.

"He has to cough the phlegm out of his lungs, but it will hurt him a lot. Elrohir, give me the water!"

He moved his hands, trying to swim through the river. Liquid was running down his throat, and he panicked once more. The need for air was unbearable, but he couldn't breathe water, it would kill him... Iluvitar, no! No!

Aragorn's consciousness disappeared and he started fading away.

"Estel, will you please breathe now," a voice full of tears commanded, "For it's far too early for us to lose you!"

"Oh Valar no, his lips are turning blue," another one gasped.

'I'm sorry...' Aragorn thought, as he heard the worry in the voices of his brothers. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he remembered that it was always him who caused others to worry.

His limp body swirled through the water and was thrown against a stone by the forces of the rolling waves. The movement caused him to open his mouth in shock and he gasped.

"That's it, Estel, breathe, you can do it, just breathe!"

His whole body trembled and suddenly he started coughing vigorously. Every cough hurt in his chest and clouded his vision more. Strong arms wrapped around his upper body, holding him in place while the coughs shook his weak body...

And suddenly he wasn't under water anymore, but back in his room in Rivendell. He didn't open his eyes, but immediately knew the change. The coughs were still wracking his body and Aragorn wanted to stop them, wanted to breathe instead, but somebody soothed it away.

"Let it go, just cough, it will clear your lungs. Don't suppress it."

His mind was that foggy that he could barely make out the words, but in the end he did what he was told, merely because he lacked the strength to do otherwise. The coughs didn't stop and his vision was kind of fuzzy. Someone held him up, supporting his body. Fear grabbed Aragorn. What if the coughs never stopped? He needed the air, he was...

Pain shot through him like fire. His chest was burning and suddenly thick phlegm was in his mouth. Somebody wiped it away, and another person wiped the sweat from his brow.

Then, when he thought that he couldn't bear it any longer, the coughs finally subdued and Aragorn took a deep breath. Sweet air filled his lungs and the red spots disappeared. He took the next breath, and another one....slowly his brain started working again and the ranger could focus on what was going on.

He could hear the noises more clearly, although he found it still difficult to understand the words which were spoken. His whole body ached and the dull pain in his chest wouldn't disappear.

The arms were still wrapped around his body and he idly wondered who was holding him. Then his mind focused on breathing again, for every breath was painful and shot a sharp pain through his body.

"Legolas, can you hold him a little longer?" someone softly asked. It took Aragorn quite a while to figure out that it was his father who had spoken. Then someone lifted his face and placed a cup against his lips.

"Drink, Estel, it will make you feel better."

Aragorn didn't want to drink anything, his throat was to sore and he knew that it would hurt quite a bit. But the voice was persistent and wouldn't take the cup away, until the ranger finally swallowed a mouth full. It hurt, how he had expected it, and he clearly felt how the liquid ran down his throat to his stomach.

A cold cloth was placed on his forehead, easing the pain a little.

Lying there, Aragorn found it incredibly difficult to stay awake and slowly slipped back into the darkness.

********************

Elrond let out a breath of relief and gently stroke over his son's face. Aragorn had scared him deeply, for he had suddenly stopped breathing. He and the twins had spent the last minutes in trying to get his lungs to work again, while the face of the human slowly turned blue.

He was resting now, but his fever was still very high.

The pale face of Elrohir appeared, looking down on the still form of Aragorn. "That was damn close," he whispered frightened.

Elladan put a hand on the shoulder of his twin, trying to support the other elf. He too clearly remembered the horror they had all endured during these few minutes in which Estel hadn't been breathing. They had helplessly watched how slowly the color left the human's face. He looked at Elrond. "Will he be okay now?"

The elder elf sighed. "I don't know. His lungs are still congested and we can't get the fever down. It's up to him if he's strong enough to fight this," the lord rubbed his temple, hating the fact that he could do nothing but wait and give his son some medications to ease the pain.

Legolas leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ranger. He had come so close to losing the best friend he had ever possessed, and it troubled him deeply. It reminded him once more of the fact that Aragorn was mortal and that once the day would come on which his friend would close his eyes for the last time. The prince had always tried not to think of that, but now these scaring thoughts came forcefully to his awareness while he watched the motionless, pale human in the bed.

How often had they fought together? How often had one of them risked his life for the other one? And yet he had never thought that he might lose his friend because of an...illness. It seemed rather ironical that he died of that, after he had survived so many wounds, so many poisons...

No! Aragorn wouldn't die, and he, Legolas, wouldn't even think of that!

And all they could do was wait. Wait and hope. Legolas sighed and sat down on a chair, intending not to leave the room until his friend was better.

Obviously the twins were doing the same. As mischievous as they normally were, as serious they seemed now, for they deeply cared for their little brother. They both watched over the ranger, like Legolas did, praying for the best.

It was all they could do.

They were hunting him again and he stumbled through the woods, fear evident in his wide, panicked eyes. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why were they always hunting him?

These shadows were far more frightening than orcs, for they resembled pure evil and they longed to pull Aragorn into the darkness. The ranger ran as fast as he could, but he was already exhausted while the shadows didn't seem to have any troubles keeping up with him. Panting, Aragorn pressed his back against a tree, too tired to flee, and they circled around him, ready to catch the human.

He raised his fists, determined not to give up willingly.

'My poor, pretty boy;' one of the shadows whispered teasingly and was by his side in an instant. Before Aragorn even knew what was happening, the dark figure had already kicked him forcefully in the stomach, causing the man to double over in pain.

'Trying to escape us, although you know that there's no chance for you, pretty one,' it hissed triumphantly.

'Go away,' Aragorn spat out, fury in his eyes. 'I have nothing to do with you!'

'But we have something to do with you,' the shadow chuckled softly. 'With you and your pretty elf friend, that's it!'

The ranger's eyes widened at this statement. What....Legolas? Did they know of Legolas? Had they hurt him? The questions wouldn't leave him alone, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it would only threaten the prince if he told them that he knew him.

But it was too late, the shadow had seen the emotions running through his eyes.

'Oh yes, I am indeed talking of Legolas Greenleaf, your oh-so-strong best friend. We captured him long time ago, but unfortunately he didn't survive long in our prison - poor elves, so resistant against normal weapons, but so weak when you know how to handle them.'

Fear gripped Aragorn's heart at this. It couldn't be true...could it? No. They were lying. They had to lie! Legolas couldn't be dead, he wasn't dead!

Trying to convince himself, the human didn't look at his captors. 'You won't get me,' he growled and rose to a fighting position.

'You want to fight?' the faceless shadow seemed to be amused by this fact. 'Well....it won't help you much, you know,' he stated as a quick blow was thrown at the ranger's head.

Aragorn fell to the ground, his vision spinning, and groaned. Hell, he hadn't even *seen* someone run at him! These shadows were fast, even faster than elves...

More kicks and punches landed on his battered body, he didn't even have the chance to hit back once. Soon he was lying on the ground, hunched up in pain, but not giving away a sound.

'Bind him,' one of the shadows advised. 'We will take him with us.'

All the struggling didn't help Aragorn. They tied his hands up and forced him to walk between them. The ranger closed his eyes in despair. What was happening? He couldn't even remember how this had started...

*****************

"We simply can't keep the fever down," Elrohir was frustrated. Morning was dawning and still Estel was shaking and sweating at the same time, burning with the fever which raced through his body.

He once again put the cloth in cold water and laid it on his brother's head. For a few seconds it seemed to ease the pain of the human, but then he again started to move around, face twitching painfully.

"He's delirious," Elrond said softly, carefully brushing a strain of the dampened hair away. It troubled him deeply to see the silent battle his son had to endure, and once again he placed his hands on the younger's face, falling into healing trance.

Legolas and the twins waited anxiously for him to say something and exchanged worried glances.

"I think he's dreaming," Elladan spoke softly, as if not to disturb his father.

"Yeah, but the dreams don't seem to be pleasant," Elrohir pointed out, looking at the distressed face of the human.

It was silent for a while the harsh breathing of Aragorn and an occasional cough were the only sounds in the room. Legolas wearily placed his head on his hands. "I totally understand why he hates getting sick," the elf proclaimed.

The twins nodded their agreement. It was bad when one had to stay in bed after being hurt, but it was even worse when one had to stay in bed with what seemed to be no reason.

It was then when Elrond came back from his healing trance. Aragorn had eased slightly under his touch and seemed calmer now, but they knew that it wouldn't last long.

****************

'Where are you taking me?' Aragorn demanded.

'To a place you'll like to see,' the shadow answered roughly and pushed the ranger forward. The man stumbled over the rough ground and growled in anger. He hated being a prisoner, it was such a helpless feeling!

Out of the corner of his eyes he glanced at the shadows, once again wondering *what* these creatures were. They were wearing black hoods, their faces covered by black cloth. Their movements were swift and they didn't make any noise as they walked through the forest. These were neither humans nor orcs.

But what then?

Aragorn shook his head. This whole chain of events seemed somewhat illogical and confusing, and the ranger didn't know what to make out of it. He couldn't even remember what he had been doing in the forest! Was he out hunting? Had he been travelling with Legolas? Maybe he had hit his head and had lost his memory; Elrond had told him once that that could happen.

'Stop,' one of the creatures hissed. Aragorn looked up, confused by these actions. They had entered a small clearing. In the middle was a used fireplace; obviously someone had camped here not so long ago.

However, it was the sight of a motionless figure on the ground which made Aragorn's heart stop. His eyes widened in panic as he recognized the familiar blond hair and clothing of the motionless elf.

'Legolas!' he gasped and struggled against the bonds, worry for his friend sweeping over him.

'Pretty, pretty elf,' one of the shadows snarled and shoved the ranger towards the pale figure. In horror Aragorn noticed that his friend's eyes were closed, a sign that he was either hurt or dead. Neither of the possibilities seemed very attracting.

'Legolas...' Aragorn called, trying to catch the elf's attention. Fear crept over him like a spider, grabbing with ice-cold claws for his heart. Legolas couldn't be...

'He won't answer you,' the shadow seemed to find the whole scene amusing, 'Never again!'

'What...what have you done to him?' the ranger shouted in anger, tears spilling down his cheek. 'What happened?' He was deeply scared. He couldn't understand what was going on, and every time he tried to remember, there was only emptiness in his brain.

'What, you don't remember?' his enemy mocked, 'Don't remember that it was your fault? We attacked you, and he was defending you. Then you ran away like mad. Took us quite a while to find you, but you didn't stand a threat against us. No human will ever defeat us! You are too weak.'

'Who are you?' Aragorn tried not to show his horror. It had been his fault...no, he would never run away, would he? But guilt already gnawed at him.

'We are the shadows. We are the nightmares. Call us whatever you want - humans gave us many names. They all fit and yet no one is correct. However, dear Aragorn, we will hunt you, hunt your soul until you give up, until your last spirit is destroyed....'

Slowly he shook his head. 'No....' he whispered and stared at the still figure. On Legolas' face was a bloody scratch and the elf was unusually pale. He hadn't even stirred during the time Aragorn had watched him. 'Legolas....' his plea disappeared unheard in the mist of the forest.

"Legolas...."

The prince's head shot up when he heard his name. He quickly was by Aragorn's side, hoping that the man had woken up, but the elf soon realized that he had spoken in his dreams.

"I'm here, my friend," he said softly, noticing how restless the ranger had become. Legolas felt his forehead and frowned in concern at the hot skin. The fever hadn't dropped a bit during the last hours, and it was draining his friend's strength.

"Legolas...no...." Aragorn whispered, obviously distressed. He was dreaming, and it didn't seem to be a pleasant dream. The elf took his hand. "Calm down, Strider," he spoke in elvish, "I'm here. You are safe."

But the ranger didn't seem to hear his soothing words. Instead he grimaced in pain. Sweat was trickling down his forehead and Legolas quickly wiped it away. He glanced through the room, where Elrohir was sound asleep on a chair. He and the twins had never left Aragorn's side since the night, and it was now nearing the evening. They felt all exhausted, but nobody had the intention to go to sleep until Aragorn was better.

Elrond was in his rooms, trying to find a cure for this human sickness. Legolas hadn't seen the elven lord for over an hour.

"No...." Aragorn whimpered, "You can't be dead, Legolas, please not...."

The elf froze at this statement. Strider was dreaming that he was *dead*? Well, that explained his distress. "I'm not dead, Estel," he whispered into his friend's ear. "Believe me, I'm alive and healthy, more so than you. Just listen to my voice and come back. Don't give up to this illness, I know that you are stronger than that!"

Maybe it was his voice which had helped, or maybe just his dreams had changed....whichever it was, Aragorn wasn't as restless as before and had calmed down a bit. Legolas seemed relieved and looked at the table with the tea on it. They were told to force the human to drink every hour, for it would keep him from becoming dehydrated.

But it was always a great struggle to get Aragorn to drink; he started coughing and trashing around and just wouldn't gulp the tea down. Somehow, it was even more difficult to take care of an unconscious Aragorn than of a conscious.

"It's time again, is it?" Elladan interrupted his thoughts and stepped behind Legolas. "We have to give him the tea."

"Yes." Legolas stood up and filled a cup with the green liquid. "Shall we wake Elrohir?"

"No, let him rest. I fear it might be a long night and we need every ounce of strength we can get." the twin sighed and took the cup out of Legolas' hands. "You will hold him, and I'll place the cup to his lips. He's always calmer in your presence."

"Let's just hope that it works better than last time," Legolas stated and took Aragorn's upper body in his arms. "Come on, Estel, it's time for your tea."

The ranger struggled against his grip and Legolas was forced to hold him closer. He could hear the breath rattling in Aragorn's chest and the sound scared him greatly. Elladan gently held the cup to his brother's lips, forcing the man to drink the tea. Surprisingly, it went well, and Aragorn relaxed visibly.

"Good," Elladan said and stared with weary eyes at his brother. "I guess that's a good sign...well, I hope," he brushed with one hand over his eyes.

Legolas just nodded and wiped a strain of Strider's hair away. It was unnatural for the human to be that silent, and that still. Usually he would never stop talking, or doing something, full of energy and, well, full of life.

By Valar, Estel, I can't lose you. Not yet.

****************

How much time had passed? He couldn't remember. All he saw was the horrible image of his dead friend, lying on the forest ground in a pool of his own blood. And the nagging voice of the shadow, which kept screaming in his head that it was his fault, that it was because of him that Legolas had died....although he still couldn't remember what had happened.

And in fact, Aragorn didn't care.

He had just sunken to the ground when finally the realization had sunken in that, yes, Legolas was dead and that, no, he couldn't do anything to change this. At some point the shadows had taken him again, shoving him forward on their way through the forest, but Aragorn wasn't interested in escaping anymore. He felt numb, like dead on the inside. Legolas had been his best friend and he had trusted him with his heart and soul. The ranger had always experienced that it would be him who died first, for Legolas was immortal, or that they would die together while fighting, but not...this. He hadn't even been there to help the elf in the last minutes of his life. He hadn't even been there...

The pain was immense, and grief overtook the normally so energetic human. His shoulders slumped, he stumbled weakly behind the shadows, not caring for his own sake. It was wrong. It wasn't supposed to happen that way.

'I'm not dead,' the voice whispered in his ear, and he stumbled in surprise. Hadn't this been the voice of...no. Aragorn shook his head. No illusions. He had seen his friend, had felt for the non-existent pulse. Legolas was dead, and nothing would change it.

A small, silver tear rolled down his cheek as he followed his captors.

Chapter 3: Helpless

(Songlyrics are from the song 'Evening Falls' by Enya)

Night had come over Rivendell and still Aragorn's condition hadn't improved. The ranger was caught in his delirious state, often screaming and thrashing around in his bed, only kept still by the force of his brothers and Legolas.

Time passed slowly for the immortals as they helplessly watched how their brother and friend struggled for his dear life. Many threads had they faced in their long life time, but never before they had felt such an agonizing despair.

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were warriors and thus used to be able to fight and defend the ones they loved. However, this silent battle in which they could do nothing but watch was wearying them, and cutting deeply in their hearts.

The pale skin of Aragorn and the dark circles under his eyes showed clearly his bad state, and the ragging breathing didn't make it better. Every time when another coughing fit seeked the ranger, the elves tensed at the painful expression in the face of Estel. Every breath seemed to be an obstacle for the young man, which was the more difficult to defeat the more time passed.

In his delirious state, he would often mumble and toss around, whispered words only he could understand, pleading for help and cursing invisible demons.

Even Elrond, who had returned to the room after studying a few of his books, couldn't clear the worry from his face. "I believe I know now what this is," he had told the three younger elves, "Humans refer to this as 'pneumonia', which can develop from simple colds. It can be dangerous if the fever doesn't break, but if we can manage to keep his temperature down, he should survive it."

He should survive it....

Never before Legolas had been that worried. If....if they just had stayed in Mirkwood, if they just had searched for a shelter....so many ifs, and they all had one in common: Aragorn's life was depending on it. The elf once again took the hand of his hallucinating friend, trying to calm him down.

"He's being haunted by nightmares," Elrohir said hoarsely and glanced at Legolas. "And we can't do nothing to help him..."

"Estel is strong," Elrond stated calmly. "His body is young and full of life. I firmly believe that he will survive this."

But Legolas saw the worry in the elder elf's eyes, and he couldn't believe his words. "Don't give up, nin mellon," he whispered. What trouble was Aragorn enduring in his dreams? They couldn't know, and they couldn't help. Strider was unable to hear them, unable to hear the comforting words. He was a prisoner in his own world in his mind, and only he could find the way out.

One way or another.

Another coughing fit shook the motionless body on the bed and immediately Legolas leapt forwards, pinning the ranger back on the pillow. The human gasped for breath, opening unseeing eyes and closing them again.

"Calm down, Strider, Calm down," Legolas whispered, as the ranger struggled against his grip.

The coughs subdued and silence sank once more over the room. Legolas sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. He wouldn't be able to stand this any longer!

'No! Let me!', he shouted as the shadows grabbed him from behind. Aragorn tried to kick at them, suddenly finding his strength again. Cold fingers were holdings his head and his arms, and he couldn't seem to escape them. Tears started spilling down the ranger's face. It was hopeless. Everything was hopeless, Legolas was dead and he couldn't find a way to flee...

'They shouldn't have named me Estel,' he whispered gravely and slumped to the ground. 'I don't earn this name, for I have brought doom instead of hope.'

'Pretty one, tired of fighting?' one of the shadows snarled and kneeled down in front of him. Aragorn glared at the creature, unwilling to talk with it.

'It's so easy to haunt you!'

'What do you mean by that?' the ranger spat out, not wanting to play this game any longer.

The shadow laughed cruelly. 'If you remember...then we will stop haunting you. But if you don't remember....you will never escape!'

Aragorn's heart hammered in his chest with sadness and fear. Remembering? He couldn't remember anything. How had he come here? What was he doing? Why was Legolas dead? And, most important of all, who were these creatures?

'Speak more clearly or stay silent,' he said between gritted teeth.

Instead of receiving an answer he was roughly shoved to the ground. 'Very well.'

And then they disappeared.

Aragorn gasped in shock and scrambled to his feet. The shadows had gone, leaving him alone in a part of the forest he had never seen before. The ranger spun around, searching for any signs, any tracks of the creatures. but he couldn't find any.

'Am I going crazy?' he slowly wondered. No noise could be heard. He was all alone.

The ranger carefully walked around, tracing the ground with his eyes. No footprint, no crack, nothing. In fact he could only see his own tracks. If he hadn't known it better, he would have sworn that he had come here alone, according to the ground.

Slowly he sank to the ground. 'This is wrong,' he murmured, 'It isn't supposed to be like that, it's simply wrong!'

It seemed as if everything slipped out of his control, out of his reach and he was unable to prevent it. His whole world turned upside down...and he was standing beside and watching!

Once again the picture of his dead friend entered his mind and shuddered. Aragorn would never, ever forget this scene; the blood which matted the blonde hair of the elf, the pale skin and the motionless body. The still face which would never laugh again, never jest with him, never scowl at him...no, he just couldn't believe it! Didn't want to believe it!

'Oh Iluvitar, what is happening?' the human whispered, looking at the sky. He didn't receive an answer.

Aragorn brushed through his damp, brown hair and flinched. If he just could grasp the memory...there was something with a river, but every time he wanted to grab it, the memory slipped away and left only a vague feeling of....yeah, of what? Fear? Pain? Panic?

Rather forcefully he stood up. 'Whining won't help,' the ranger growled, annoyed with himself. 'Legolas wouldn't want me to give up. I have to find out what's happening, if not for me, than for him!' Determined he set his jaw and started walking.

The forest was unknown to him. He had never been here before, and his first mission would be to locate his current place, so that he could find a way home.
Aragorn decided to search for a big tree which he could climb. From up there he would be able to see over the wood and maybe recognize a few landmarks.

It didn't take the ranger long to find such a tree. Remembering the numerous times when he had played with Elrohir and Elladan in the forest, he started climbing, his movements swift and noiseless. The tree offered thick branches and Aragorn found it quite easy to reach the top.

But when he wanted to grab for the last (and highest) branch, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. The human doubled over in pain, his free hand desperately searching for hold. The world seemed to spin around him and he felt the strangest of feelings, as if....as if his body was pulled away!

Aragorn gasped and struggled to remain standing on the tree. He was high over the ground and a fall would mean his certain death. His mind whirled and he imagined hearing voices - in his head. They were calling him by his elven name, but he didn't understand what they were saying.

'Go away!' the ranger shouted, fearing that he was loosing it now. Hearing voices when nobody was there was never a good sign. What had these shadows done with him? Had they somehow tricked his mind? Or poisoned him?

He pressed his back against the tree, his heart hammering in his chest. Surely they were playing their evil tricks on him, waiting until he became mad, until he gave up and did something stupid....Aragorn gritted his teeth. He wouldn't allow them to do that! He wouldn't give up!

'Calm down,' he took deep breaths, suddenly realizing the dull pain in his chest. 'It's all in your mind, none of this is true,' Aragorn tried to reassure himself. But unfortunately it didn't work. The deep ache only increased, making it difficult to breath. His lungs rattled.

//When the evening falls and the daylight is fading,
from within me calls - could it be I am sleeping?//

Grabbing the branch closer, Aragorn closed his eyes. He wasn't ill, was he? He couldn't fall ill, he would never make it to a safe place in time and Legolas didn't know where he...

And Legolas would never come to his help again because he was dead. The realization hit him full force, and the ranger hid his head in his hands and cried for his fallen friend.

He had never felt more alone in his life.

//For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely.
close to home - I cannot say.
close to home feeling so far away//

**************

Lord Elrond placed his hands on the head of his foster son, inhaling deeply. He had to pry the man out of his feverish nightmare, or he would be lost in the darkness forever. As he slowly sank into healing trance, the twins and Legolas watched anxiously.

Elrond could feel the distress in Aragorn's mind. The ranger was hallucinating and it was keeping him from the needed rest. He had to ease his mind so that his body could recover and fight the fever which was still raging through his body.

He spoke calming words in Elvish, hoping that they would enter Estel's mind and soothe his nightmares away. The lord knew that delirious dreams were often as real as life, and they mostly were so scarring that they left the poor soul who had to witness them crushed and frightened. Elrond just hoped that this wasn't happening right now, for he could fight against an illness, but not against the evil of one's mind.

Aragorn was weak, so weak...the numerous coughing fits had made it unable for him to breathe properly and the lack of air was eating his strength. Breathing took too much energy, energy which was needed in fighting the fever. Plus, the ranger hadn't eaten since he had come home yesterday evening and the lack of food was also doing nothing good.

They had to get him to wake up, and they had to do it soon.

Once again he whispered the calming words, sending them into the mind of his youngest son, hoping that, even in his delirious state, Aragorn would somehow hear and understand them.

Then he blinked and woke up from his trance, aware of the questioning looks his sons and Legolas sent him. "I think I have calmed him down," he said, "Although I fear that it won't hold long; the demons of his dreams are strong."

Slowly the elder elf stood up, brown hair disheveled and lines of worry etched into his elegant face. "You should go to sleep," Elrond turned to the three younger elves.

"Father, no!" Elladan shook his head. "How can we sleep in a situation like this? Estel needs us!"

"True, but he needs you at full health and not a weary elf who will drop down every second," Elrond's look was stern. "Elladan, please. I do not tell you to leave Estel, I just tell you to take a chair, sit down and rest a bit."

At first it seemed as if the older twin wanted to say something, but then he just nodded and plopped wearily down on the mentioned chair. A slight smile appeared on Elrond's face. "Thank you," he nodded and then spoke louder, "I will go to my room and prepare a special medicine. It will take me some time, so take good care of him and call me if his condition changes."

He received three weary nods. The elven lord turned around and hurriedly left the room. In the hall he met a servant of the house and winked him to him. "Can you please bring some food for my sons and Legolas?" he pleaded. "They will need it, and I fear I can't convince them to leave the room long enough to eat."

The servant nodded and made his way to the kitchen. Elrond sighed and walked to his study, eyes clouded with worry. He had always hated it, every time when his son had come home injured and poisoned. It reminded the elder elf painfully of the fact that his youngest son was mortal, and that once he would leave him - and there was nothing Elrond could do against that.

He felt helpless due to that fact and knew that his sons - and even Legolas - were feeling the same. It wasn't obvious when Aragorn was awake and healthy, for he was always full of energy and while quarreling around with him neither Elrohir nor Elladan thought of this dark fact.

But in these times, when the young human returned home and was sick, or was injured...they were always reminded of it.

He was so young, barely a child in an elf's eye, and yet it wouldn't take long until he had to go on his own, dangerous journey on which, Elrond knew, they couldn't protect him. Darkness was rising, and it was Aragorn's destiny to fulfill his heritage.

There were times when the elven lord wished that there wouldn't be such a heavy burden on the shoulders of his son. That he was just a normal human. But even Elrond couldn't change the past.

Although he had a great view from the top of the tree, it didn't help him much, for he realized that he was in an area of Middle-Earth he had never traveled before. Aragorn sighed. 'Figures,' he murmured gloomily.

He once again sat down on the branch, pondering what he should do now. His chest was still aching, but the pain had subdued to an agreeable level. The young ranger was in a rather difficult situation; he had no supplies, no weapons and he was caught in the middle of wilderness without any idea where he was. He was, to be quite frank, totally lost.

For a moment he wished that the shadows had taken him with them, but he immediately shoved the thought aside. He couldn't think like that!

Aragorn decided to climb down again and check the area for food instead of sitting and worrying - he wouldn't get anything out of *that*. But right when he wanted to start climbing, he heard the voices - again!

This time it was only one voice, and it spoke in the gray tongue. Dumbfounded the ranger listened, realizing in awe that this was, in fact, the very voice of Elrond. Joy swept over him, but was immediately replaced by worry.

It couldn't be his father, there was nobody in the near. And yet he could hear clearly the words which were spoken. Words trying to calm him down, and pleading him to wake up.

That didn't make sense. Aragorn was awake, wasn't he?

He dug his fingernails into his palm. Yes, it hurt. He was certainly awake, he was hurting, he could hear everything and...

The voice didn't stop.

'Father, where are you?' he cried in despair. He didn't receive a reply, and it drove him mad to be unable to answer. It was the most helpless feeling he had ever experienced.

His head started hurting, and once again he had to clutch for the tree in order to steady himself. If it continued like that, he would certainly fall to the ground and break his neck.

Aragorn was panting heavily. It drove him mad, this whole ordeal, and he quickly scrambled down the tree. On the last few meters he slipped and landed with a painful noise on the ground.

For moments he just lain there and stared at the blue sky which stretched over him. The ranger frowned in confusion. Something seemed wrong about this sky; somehow he had the impression that it should be raining. That it shouldn't be good weather...

Wait a moment. Raining?

There was something with raining, a memory, just hidden in his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to pry it away. Rain; rain in the forest and he had been traveling - with Legolas, yes. It had been cold and he...

The rain, cascading down from the sky and soaking them to the bones. Gray clouds, which covered the sky and made it impossible for the warm sunlight to pierce through. His wet fingers, numb with cold. The throbbing pain in his head as his headache grew more intense.

With a startled gasp he opened his eyes. Aragorn remembered! They were traveling home from Mirkwood when the rain had caught them in surprise, and then he had frozen terrible and caught a cold...but what was then? Blurry images of Rivendell and his brothers wandered this mind, he couldn't make out a connection between them.

A groan escaped his lips. His head was hurting more and more, and the ranger was growing frustrated. Couldn't he trust anything, not even his own mind?

He finally stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. Luckily he hadn't broken anything in the fall, but his back was bruised and hurt quite a bit. Aragorn decided to walk into the general direction of...well, he didn't know of what, but it was at least a general direction.

He staggered slightly as the world once again whirled around him. The strange feeling - as if his soul was pulled away - entered his consciousness.

This was getting even more confusing. Now the pain in his head was so immense that he clutched his temples in agony and let out a scream. Dropping on his knees, he shut his eyes in the pure terror of what was happening. The world circled around him, seemed to disappear and was replaced by other things....

He swayed like a drunken man, eyes wide in fear. Sweat started trickling down his forehead.

Suddenly he couldn't bear it anymore and jumped up. His feet started running, although he hadn't given them the order to run, and he raced through the forest as if he was hunted. Aragorn's mind screamed no, but his body wouldn't obey. Something was telling him that he was being hunted by evil things, and right on cue the shadows appeared once again.

They cackled as they followed the ranger through the woods. 'Flee!' was his only conscious thought, 'Get away! They can't get me!'

//As I walk there before me a shadow
from another world, where no other can follow.
carry me to my own, to where I can cross over...
close to home - I cannot say.
close to home feeling so far away.//

He had his eyes closed now. He didn't want to see them.

**************

Legolas jerked up as a loud, howling scream disturbed the eerie silence in the room. Aragorn was lying on his bed, sightless eyes opened in fear and despair, screaming in sheer terror.

As quick as a lightning the elf was by his friend's side, as well as the twin brothers. They tried to hold him down, but the human seemed to have found strength from somewhere; he fought against them with all his power.

"Estel, calm down!" Elrohir commanded in fear, but the ranger wouldn't hear him. He was now trying to get out of the bed.

"No!" Elladan grabbed him from behind, his strong arms holding the human in place. Aragorn was still struggling madly.

"What is wrong?" Legolas asked frightened.

"I don't know," shouted Elrohir, desperately trying to calm his brother down, "Probably a nightmare, I really have no idea. Estel, please, stop it!"

The door of the room opened with a loud bang, and Elrond rushed in, casting a worried look at the scene. "What happened?"

Elladan shook his head, tears glittering in the normally so merry eyes. "We don't know. He was calm, and from one moment to the next he started screaming and going mad...OW!" he yelped in surprise and loosened his grip a bit. Aragorn had just bitten him in order to come free.

The human immediately took his chance and jumped forward, his gray-blue eyes opened wide in terror. Legolas grabbed him by the shoulders, but was thrown back by the force of the ranger. They both tumbled to the ground.

Aragorn was breathing heavily, whimpering slightly as the pain in his chest increased. He wasn't really aware of his surroundings, still caught in his devilish nightmare. He wanted to stand up, but was forced by Legolas to stay down.

"No!" Elrond commanded and the prince let his hands fall down, surprised.

"But we can't let him walk around..." Legolas objected.

"I know. But he's frightened if you catch him like that, and it will only make things worse. His mind isn't here right now, he's merely reacting on whatever nightmare he is having." The lord kneeled down in front of the ranger who had crouched down in a sitting position.

They were everywhere around him, he was caught! But he wouldn't give up without a fight, these shadows shouldn't get him, never! He could sense their presence as they tried to grab for him.

Away, he had to get away! He had to flee! But he was trapped, there were too many of them and they were so much stronger...

'Go away,' he screamed in his mind, trashing around and kicking his legs.

//Forever searching; never right, I am lost
in oceans of night. Forever
hoping I can find memories.
those memories I left behind.//

From his place on the bed, Elladan watched the scene and massaged his hurting hand. Blood was trickling down from the part where Estel had bitten him.

"Estel," Elrond spoke softly in the gray tongue, "Nobody wants to hurt you. You are safe. This is only a dream, nothing is real. Do you hear me? It's all an illusion! It's all in your mind, and you just have to wake up. Nobody wants to hurt you..."

Aragorn whimpered and pressed his back against the wall, resembling more a scared kid than the strong ranger he usually was. He seemed to stare right through them, his gazed fixed on terrors only he was able to see.

But some of the words seemed to sweep through, for he visibly relaxed. Moving carefully, Legolas slowly walked nearer and lowered himself to the floor until he was on eye-level with his friend.

"Wake up, nin mellon," he whispered. "Everything is okay, you won't be hurt. Just wake up and come back to us..."

The whole scenario changed from one moment to the next. The atmosphere grew....friendlier, and the shadows seemed to disappear behind, to melt away. Aragorn let his guard drop and slumped to the ground. He felt so tired, so exhausted....

Then a voice filtered through the clouds in his head, speaking clearly to him. 'Wake up, nin mellon', it said, and he recognized the soft voice of his elven friend.
In disbelief Aragorn stared at the dark trees around him and whispered softly. 'Legolas?'

//Even though I leave will I go on believing
that this time is real - am I lost in this feeling?//

"Legolas?" the word was barely audible, but nonetheless the three elves picked it up with their keen hearing. Legolas smiled in relief as the ranger addressed him. "Yes, it is me, my friend," he said and noticed how a look of utter disbelief crossed the face of the human.

"Try to get him into his bed," Elrond advised, "Without scaring him further, if that's possible."

The ranger shivered, his eyes still wide and his pupils dilated. It was quite obvious that his mind was elsewhere, and it troubled Legolas to see his friend like that.

"Come, Strider," he said soothingly and put one hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

Everything was hurting, but strangely he felt safe. He still didn't understand what was happening, but right now it didn't mind. He just wanted to sleep....wanted to close his eyes...

Memories flooded his mind and he was confused by the amount of images he was seeing. It was raining, Legolas was talking with him, he entered Rivendell and....no dark shadows. They had disappeared. Wearily, the ranger looked around, fearing to see the foul creatures in a circle around him, but the forest was empty.

He swayed slightly as his tired mind tried to connect the memories in a more or less logical way. Legolas was dead....Legolas was talking with him....the voice of Elladan, shouting something...

His father, serious face, talking in a calm voice, speaking Elvish and chasing the nightmares away.

His eyelids dropped as the tiredness flooded his whole body, leaving him weak and without strength.
Aragorn slumped to the ground, unconscious.

He had barely time to catch his friend as Aragorn once again faded into unconsciousness. Legolas held the still form of the human in his arms and listened to the even breathing.

Elrohir inwardly breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding. Carefully he helped the elf prince to lay his little brother on the bed again, where they covered him with thick blankets. Face still pale, the human resembled more a child than the man he was.

Aragorn was sleeping now, and it seemed that the dreams had left his mind, but his fever was still high and the color of his face was pale. Elrond laid a hand on his forehead and spoke softly. "He must rest now. "

The twins nodded, and Legolas sat down on his chair again, hoping for the moment Strider would wake up and recognize him as the one he was. It was scary to watch how he was caught in his own, little dream world.

It was really strange...his mind was pending between two worlds, and both of them seemed real. It was like floating through darkness, the gloomily silence only interrupted by whispers in the gray tongue. Aragorn wasn't afraid any more, he was just mildly confused. He could feel soft cloth under his body, and wondered for a moment if he was still in the forest or somewhere else.

Voices whispered around him, but he wasn't frightened. He knew these voices, they were friendly. They knew him. They wouldn't hurt him. He would be able to rest.

//Like a child passing through, never knowing the reason.
I am home - I know the way.
I am home - feeling oh, so far away//

Chapter 4: Resting

(Songlyrics are, once again, from Enya)

Warm sunlight illuminated the room and a few birds could be heard singing. Morning was dawning, and the ranger had finally settled down, sleeping soundly. Elrohir was curled up in his chair and stared down at the still form of his human brother. They had come so close to loosing him, so close...

The fever had dropped in the early hours, and they had nearly cheered in relief, had not Elrond told them that the illness wasn't over yet. This was merely the first step; Aragorn's lungs were still congested and he would be troubled by the coughing fits for some time, until the phlegm was cleared from his lungs. It would be a slow recovery and each step would be painful. They all knew the human, very well aware of the fact that he would soon grow tired of staying in bed.

Elrohir didn't mind, if just Aragorn was alive and had his senses again. If it was needed, he would drug his stubborn foster brother to keep him in bed. And he couldn't imagine that Elrond would disapprove.

A small smile touched his lips at this thought. The elf could clearly imagine Aragorn's reaction if they would ever dare to drug him without his approval. He wouldn't be happy, no, definitely not.

Elrohir's thoughts traveled back to the time when *he* had been on the receiving end of such a treatment. It had been long before Estel's time, after a hunting trip of Elladan and him. Taking a dare with his brother that he could manage to climb down the cliff hadn't been such a good idea; he did well, until he met the very unfriendly eagle in his nest. The bird had attacked him and Elrohir had taken a rather long fall to the ground, with a very painful landing.

He could recall the face of his brother while he had been falling, which had been a strange mixture, between utter disbelief, worry and agonizing fear. Poor Elladan, this accident had given him quite a scare.

Elrohir himself had been lucky; some bruises, a light concussion and a broken leg. However, he hadn't wanted to stay in bed at Rivendell and kept getting up, until his father - annoyed by his rambling and stubborn son - had forced him to drink a drugged tea.

The elf shook his head. Why did this memory come to the surface now? It was over five hundreds of years ago, and nearly forgotten.

"Thinking?" the soft voice of his brother interrupted the silence.

Elrohir looked up. "Yes," he replied absently.

Elladan stepped nearer and stood beside the chair his twin was sitting in. "About what?" he wanted to know.

The small smile appeared again on Elrohir's face. "About that accident in the woods, when I fell down the cliff." He put his chin in his hand. "I just remembered how I hated being so weak and being bound to bed while everyone around me was able to walk. It was annoying."

Now Elladan smiled, too. "And you drove us all nuts because you kept scrambling out of bed although you weren't supposed to. You didn't come very far until you collapsed, and we always had to carry you back to bed."

"Well, it was boring."

"I can imagine."

"It was still no reason to drug me senseless."

"Why not? You didn't obey. And besides, it was fun."

Elrohir scowled at his older brother. "I didn't think that it was funny. I couldn't stay awake even when I wanted it!"

Elladan smiled mysteriously. "Yes. That was why I thought it funny! You kept mumbling very interesting things in those days."

"I wouldn't have if you had simply let me!"

"Letting you continue to hurt yourself?" Elladan raised an eyebrow. "I saw no reason in that. We were all growing tired of your escapades and fearing that your leg would never heal if you continued to put weight on it!"

"And because of that you put so much sleeping herbs in my tea that I spent the next three days in the dreaming lands! I couldn't think straight when I awoke, and I clearly remember how I hated this feeling!" The younger twin pouted.

Elladan just smiled, mirth twinkling in his gray eyes. Then his gaze wandered to Aragorn. "It would be nice to try that on Estel," the elf mused and grinned.

The forest was calm, very calm. Beautiful. Peaceful.

Aragorn closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the fresh air. Not far away birds could be heard singing, a sign that no danger was lurking around. The ranger stretched on the ground, back on the green grass, and stared in the sky. He couldn't quite remember what had happened, but he knew that he was safe now. That he was okay.

More or less.

His memory was still missing and at some rare occasions he could hear voices although there was no one around him. The ranger frowned. That had sounded like his brothers in one of their usual bickering - but the twins were nowhere to be seen. He shook his head. His mind was playing tricks again.

Fortunately he wasn't afraid this time, and the pain had faded to an agreeable level. Warm sun shone into his face and made the human relax. He closed his eyes, enjoying the peace and the warmth.

Legolas stared out of the window, back turned to the still sleeping form of his friend. He felt tired, but he would never leave Aragorn's side, not until the human had woken up and recognized him. The elf let out a sigh. What was it with humans that they were always cold, or sick, or whatever? How did they endure it?

He was startled in his thoughts by Elrond who stepped besides him. "Worrying?" he asked.

"Merely thinking, my lord," Legolas answered and glanced at the elder. "Sometimes I think it's not fair that humans are so....well, weak, compared to us." He shook his head. "I've never bothered about this before, because I always thought that all men were cruel and didn't deserve better..."

"And then you met Estel," the elven lord finished the sentence for him.

Legolas simply nodded. "He's a great friend, and I can't endure the thought that he will have to face the destiny of all men; that one day he will age and leave us. He's so fragile, sometimes. He walks in the rain and out of the blue he gets sick. And yet he is a very strong fighter, able to match an elf."

"I guess you should better not share these thoughts with him," Elrond smiled slightly. "Especially the 'fragile' comment." Then his face grew serious. "But you're right; the idea of Estel dying is a dark cloud over my heart, and I hope that I will be far over the sea when that happens."

The lord of Imladris turned around to look at his youngest son. "It's in times like this when the fear haunts my heart. It's easy to forget when he's healthy; and when he's at Rivendell, quarreling with his brothers. I guess we just have to make the best out of it, and be grateful for the time we've been able to spend with him."

The prince of Mirkwood once again looked at the still figure on the bed. Aragorn's face was pale, and his breathing pattern was labored. Nonetheless his status had improved greatly over the last hours, and Elrond and announced more than happy that the danger of him dying was over now.

Elladan walked over to join his father and the blonde elf. "When will he be awake?" The elegant elf asked, glancing over at his foster brother. He had always been a bit on the overprotective side.

"Not for some time," Elrond told him, "These coughing fits have exhausted his body greatly, and he needs every rest he can get. I fear that the next days won't be very pleasant for him, for his lungs are congested and it will take its time to heal."

"What is it like?" Legolas wanted to know. Being sick was totally strange for him, and he couldn't fully understand this burden of men.

"This illness is very much like poisoning, especially the fever. However, additional to this fever comes the infection of the lungs which makes it incredibly difficult to breathe. He will be in a lot of pain for the first days of recovery."

Elladan shook his head. "It seems typical for Estel. Only he can go out on something as simple as rain and catch something that extreme."

"Yeah, well, it's probably because he has lived with elves for his whole life time. It's easy to forget that oneself gets sick when one lives together with people who never get sick," Elrohir corrected mildly.

Legolas glanced once again at his silent friend on the bed while the twins were discussing. He could fully understand why Aragorn was annoyed at times; he had been raised in a house with immortal people, with people who did neither freeze nor catch colds. He must have felt as an outsider every time he was sick or had to wear warm clothes while the elves walked around swiftly on the snow.

One would never assume of such doubts if one saw Aragorn arguing with his brothers. The man always kept his spirit and would often attack the twins verbally with such an amount of mirth that one could only laugh.

Legolas missed Aragorn's voice in the conversation. Something was lacking, a counterpart to the elves...

He remembered how it had been when he had been poisoned, which had happened quite often in his life. The feverish dreams, his body, betraying his weakness, and the immense feeling of helplessness had been overwhelming. The elf had hated it, he remembered it clearly. Everybody had been fussing over him and he wouldn't be allowed to leave his bed until the healers declared him as healthy. Which was always a few days later than his own opinion of being perfectly okay.

He had no doubt that Aragorn would feel the same. After all, the ranger was as restless as Legolas when it came to injuries and staying in bed. If not even more restless, if that was possible. Ah well, weren't they all? The twins weren't better, either, trained healers they were.
When one of them had to stay in bed, the other one would always be there and nag him constantly, their bickering echoing through the wide halls of Imladris.

Aragorn could sense how the time passed. Could even tell the seconds, but strangely he didn't care. He was floating, only half-conscious, caught somewhere in the middle between dream world and reality. He could vaguely remember frightening scenes of himself fighting against an overwhelming enemy, or falling into a river, nearly drowning. But all these images were somewhat blurry.

Then there were other memories; people pinning him on the ground, yelling at him, and forcing him to drink something. He himself, caught in the middle of this, screaming in sheer terror...

Confusion swapped over him. Why should he scream? Why should he be afraid? It didn't make sense...

It was annoying him greatly, this nothingness around him. If just his mind wouldn't be that foggy! He could barely think straight, and he found this highly irritating.

'I want to wake up,' he screamed in silent frustration, his voice echoing unheard through the silence. 'I want to be able to think clearly and to see what's happening! I want to be able to move my body! I want to be able to breathe properly without any pain....'

He didn't know where the last one had come from, but it seemed important. There was a vague memory of burning pain in his breast, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Aragorn certainly didn't want to experience this again.

Then another form of pain crashed down on him; the grief over the loss of a great friend and never ending sadness. However, his mind seemed to be divided in two, one part believing that it was true, that Legolas had died, and the other part insisting that it couldn't be, that he had heard his friend's voice only a few hours ago.

Aragorn once more cursed the fogginess in his brain, desperately wishing for this to be over.

Elrond stroked the sweating face of his son, relieved to notice that the fever had dropped a little bit. Aragorn seemed calmer now, sleeping and resting his exhausted body. At least the danger of his death was over now, and it took a great burden from the Lord's heart. He would have hated it to see his human son die because of a stupid illness.

However, the elder elf also knew that the recovery would be quite a long - and painful - one. Knowing his son, Elrond knew that the boy wouldn't stay in bed long and probably make himself sick. The Lord of Imladris sighed. He would deal with this later.

His gaze wandered towards the twins who were, sitting on two chairs, still bickering with each other. A small smile tucked at the corners of his mouth.

Over 3,000 years old, and yet they still manage to act like children.

He found this very amusing and inwardly promised himself to bring this up the next time the two insisted that they were indeed grown-up.

Some things would never change.

Consciousness slowly returned to him. At first everything was kind of blurry, and he didn't know what to make of it. Then his mind became more aware of his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that he was lying on his back on something soft. That itself seemed to be logical; if he had been unconsciousness, it was only natural to awake on the floor. Aragorn tried to open his eyes, but realized annoyed that he lacked strength for that.

Therefore he tried to analyze his current situation - and to remember what happened. There seemed to be fog in his mind, preventing him from recalling important memories. He was on his back, and he felt weak. That were the first two things he could state clearly. There were hushed noises