~~Panic~~

By EmmaElf

Rated: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Tolkien and New Line own everything. *sigh* I make no money off of this either.

Summery: When a cave-in traps Aragorn and Legolas in an old mine near Rivendell, will they be able to survive the aftermath?

Time Frame: Pre-LOTR

A/N: This story was written for the Teitho contest on the Mellon Chronicles website. Therefore, I based some of the assumptions in this piece off of the delightful MC Series by Cassia & Siobhan - such as Aragorn and Legolas’ friendship, the idea that elves sleep with their eyes closed when hurt and Legolas’ dislike of caves, but otherwise this story is all mine and infringes on no one else’s work. Thanks for the inspiration and the fun contest ladies!

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"Don’t panic!" Aragorn tried to keep his voice calm despite the terror raking its razor edged fingers up and down his spine. "Stop trying to move, just be still and don’t panic."

"Easy for you to say!" a gasping, obviously very panicked voice replied in the darkness. The words echoed oddly through the small space. "You’re not the one that... had a mountain fall on you! Estel, Estel get me out of here!"

Aragorn cringed. He had never heard his friend sound quite so desperate or out of control. He could have taken exception to that statement, because technically a mountain *had* fallen on him, but he was too worried right now to be sarcastic. He scrabbled around on his hands and knees in the inky darkness, searching for a way out or anything that might help him. He found only dirt and rocks... and more rocks. He tried to stand up and hit his head on the low ceiling. Swearing and rubbing his head he tried to reign in his own panting breath as the air became increasingly stale. The tiny bubble of a cave that he found himself trapped in was claustrophobically small. But it was nothing compared to where his friend was trapped.

Legolas could not move. He had fallen on his arms so he could not even wiggle his fingers, pinned as they were between his stomach and the hard stone floor beneath him. He could barely breathe. The tons of stone that had fallen on him pressed heavily against his back, grinding him painfully into the ground. It was a miracle he had not been crushed to death when the ceiling of the tunnel collapsed on he and Aragorn, but just at the moment the elf wasn’t feeling too lucky.

Trapped in a very small, triangular cubbyhole between the floor and two opposing slabs of broken stone, the elf could not even lift his head. The hard, jagged edge of one of the huge slabs of shattered granite which had saved his life dug deeply into the elf’s side, further impairing his breathing. He could not see it, but the stone had sliced through his leather jerkin and the flesh beneath. Dark blood was spreading across the edges of the torn fabric.

The prince grit his teeth in pain. His side burned and his left wrist, trapped under him at an impossible angle, screamed in agony. Worse than the pain though, was his absolute inability to move. He strained his head, trying to turn it even a little. He was desperate to shift the incredible pressure that felt like it was trying to snap his neck. He panted hard from terror, pain and lack of air. His lungs strained against the stone coffin which trapped him. Dust and grit filled his mouth and nose as his rapid breathing stirred up the stone dust that covered the earth against which his face was brutally pressed.

"Estel!" was that pleading, frightened voice really his? "Estel, are you still there?"

Aragorn looked grimly around at the destroyed tunnel. "Where would I go?" he thought dryly. "I’m here Legolas, I’m here, I won’t leave you." He tugged urgently at the stones that kept Legolas from him, digging with his hands because he had nothing else with which to dig.

The dust his own attempts to breathe was kicking up choked Legolas and he started coughing. There was no room to cough in his tiny stone sarcophagus. Terror rippled through the elf’s being as it seemed a troll punched the air out of his lungs and refused to let him replace it. Fear made his heart race, increasing his need for air, which in turn increased his panic.

Aragorn could hear his friend’s desperate struggle for breath echo and rasp painfully. The elf’s wild struggle was making the rocks burying him shift and grind against one another dangerously.

"Lasto beth nin, Legolas!" //Listen to me!// "You have got to calm down, I know, I know it’s hard, my friend, I know... but please, Legolas, you’re going to bring the whole thing down, please, please my friend..." the ranger pleaded earnestly in elvish, trying to calm the elf down before he killed himself.

Legolas went still, but Aragorn could still hear the frantic, hissing gasp of his friend’s struggle for breath. "It’s all right, Legolas, we’ll get out of here, I promise," the ranger continued to sooth as he muscled shards of rock and shattered wood from the tunnel’s broken supports out of the way. "Elladan and Elrohir are outside. They know where we are and they’re sure to have heard the cave-in. They’ll come for us, we just have to hang on."

Legolas’ breathing had slowed slightly, but although his voice was calmer now, the words he spoke sent chills down his friend’s spine. "I don’t think I will make it that long," he whispered hoarsely. "It’s crushing me, Estel."

Aragorn bit his lip hard. "Then we’ll just have to get you out of there." His hands were bleeding but he did not care. A large chunk of stone blocked his frantic digging and he had to try to find a new angle from which to attack the problem.

"You should... save your air," Legolas said softly, his voice beginning to slur a little.

"Then maybe we should stop talking," the ranger returned with a forced hint of jocularity.

"We should..." Legolas’ voice was soft but disturbingly vulnerable. "But then I am alone," he whispered.

"No, you’re not alone," Aragorn refuted. "How are you doing? Are you hurt?"

"Broken wrist I think, something wrong with my side perhaps. That and about a million pounds of stone. Otherwise I’m just fine," the elf grit out through his teeth.

"I see that it hasn’t managed to squeeze out any of your attitude." Aragorn tried to keep his friend’s spirits up, even as his own began to nosedive. Everywhere he tried to dig he was met with another impenetrable wall of stone. He couldn’t break through, he could not reach his friend.

Dizzy from exertion, lack of air and the pounding he had taken when the tunnel came down, Aragorn was forced to halt a moment. Leaning back against the rubble behind him, he closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts and his strength. His body ached and he might have a broken rib, but he had been otherwise spared most of the wrath of the falling tunnel. He looked up and for a moment thought he saw a faint twinkle of light in the ruined ceiling a few inches from his face. An instant later it was gone and he wondered if he were hallucinating.

"Estel?" Legolas could hear that his friend had stopped moving.

Slowly, Aragorn pulled himself back to his knees. "Just taking a breather."

"That’s all right," the elf said softly, his voice muffled by the stone that separated them. "I just... I just wanted to make sure you were there."

This time Aragorn couldn’t hold his tongue. "Legolas, where do you think I could go?" He chuckled.

Legolas snorted softly.

An hour of fruitless digging confirmed Aragorn’s fear that there was no way he was reaching the elf by himself.

"Legolas?" he said after a moment. Legolas had fallen silent some time ago and that worried the ranger.

"Legolas... I... I can’t reach you. But we’re going to make it out of this. Listen, I think the cave-in has opened some cracks to the surface in the tunnel roof. That’s why we’re still getting air. I want to see if I can make any progress that direction."

"You’re going to leave?" Legolas’ voice was faint and fairly steady considering the circumstances, but Aragorn could hear the hesitancy that laced the question.

"Legolas, I’m just going to dig, I’ll still be right here," the man assured.

Legolas closed his eyes, knowing how terribly childish he was being. He drew his courage and peace back around him, trying to tune out the walls crushing in around him. "You do whatever you need to do, Estel. I want you to make it out, even if you have to leave me behind, all right?"

"No one’s leaving anyone," Aragorn said testily as he began probing the broken layer of stone and debris over his head. He coughed as he loosed a shower of dirt on his face and had to wipe the earth out of his eyes. "So stop talking that way."

Hours crawled by, but Aragorn made little progress. Thick beams of broken wood, stone and earth blocked him at every turn. As time dragged on he began to believe that perhaps Legolas had been right and they were going to die here. He had almost given up hope when the beam he had been struggling with for what seemed an age, finally shifted. A massive shower of earth rained down around him as the unstable cave shuddered and groaned.

Suddenly afraid of what he had done, Aragorn pressed himself back into the corner of his tiny enclave, throwing his arm up over his head to protect himself.

When the dust settled, there was more air in the tunnel then there had been. Far overhead, faint glimmers of light broke through the gloom.

"Legolas! I think I see daylight!" Aragorn called excitedly, shaking dirt out of his hair and off of his overcoat.

There was no answer.

"Legolas?!" Joy turned to fear. "Legolas, answer me, please!"

Legolas’ lungs fluttered weakly. He could barely breathe at all anymore. He heard Aragorn’s voice from a long way off and fought to answer.

"Go, Estel," he murmured with what little breath he had. "Go."

Aragorn was torn. He might be able to dig his way out of here eventually, but how could he leave Legolas behind?

"I... I’ll get my brothers, together we can get you out of there. Hang on, Legolas, just hang on," Aragorn promised.

The long, arduous journey to the surface was grueling. Inch by painful inch, Aragorn slowly worked his way upward. The light he had seen before soon faded away, leaving him in complete darkness. Levering himself upward into the small space he had just cleared above his head, he pushed down on the broken support strut he wanted to climb atop. Without warning, the beam shifted sharply. The ranger lost his grip and slid sideways as the thick support strut upended next to him. The jagged wood racked across his arm, leaving a wake of stinging agony, but Aragorn managed to catch himself before he could fall completely back down the narrow tunnel he had already cleared. His heart pounding, the ranger hung suspended for a moment, furiously jamming his back and legs against opposite walls of the little tunnel. When he could finally hear something other than the furious hammering of his own heart and labored breathing, the ranger resumed his slow ascent.

Dust and dirt particles danced in the spotty patches of watery light reaching him. They wove in and out before his blurry eyes as he clawed his way slowly along. After a time, to his despair, he found that rather than growing brighter, the light was dimming slowly. Soon he was trapped in the narrow crack of earth in complete darkness. It was disorienting and made him dizzy. He didn’t even know if he was going up anymore or had taken a turn somewhere and was merely burrowing sideways deeper and deeper into the hard, cold earth. Some part of his weary mind noted the irony that if he died here, no one would have to worry about burying him.

The human’s body screamed for rest, but he dare not. Somewhere below him, Legolas was still trapped under thousands of pounds of stone. Aragorn might have a little time before he was in serious trouble, but Legolas did not. If he was not released soon... he would die down there. Aragorn shuddered involuntarily. That would be a cruel death for one of the Eldar, especially knowing how little Legolas loved caves or enclosed spaces. Doggedly, the human pressed on.

The dark journey became a hellish eternity, but afterwards he could not have recounted a single detail about the tortuous, agonizing struggle. His mind seemed to have blocked it out. What he did remember was finally pulling himself free of the broken earth and staring up at the stars overhead. Dawn was approaching, and he was stunned to realize how long they had been down there. They had gone into the tunnel early in the day... they had been trapped down there over twenty-four hours.

Struggling to his feet, Aragorn stumbled and found it difficult to walk. He was exhausted, and, he realized, bleeding from a deep cut to his arm that he had not even noticed acquiring somewhere during his long climb. His vision was blurry.

"Help! Elladan, Elrohir, can you hear me? HELP!" he called out as loud as his raspy throat could manage. They hadn’t gotten very far into the cave, he had to be somewhere near the entrance still... where were his brothers?

"Help..." he stumbled and fell to his knees, fighting blackness. He could not lose it now. He had to get help for Legolas!

The grass was cool and wet with dew under his fingers... he realized it was also wet with blood. He cursed silently. He had no idea he was bleeding this much... and how long had it been going on? He had no way of knowing, but it was little wonder it was hard to hold a coherent stream of thought.

"Estel! Oh Valar, ESTEL!" Worried voices came to him like someone speaking in a dream. Strong arms wrapped around him and he found himself blinking up blearily at the familiar face of his brothers as dawn began to paint the sky pink.

The relief was incredible. Another face entered his line of vision. He realized numbly that Glorfindel was there, as well as a number of others from Rivendell. The twins had obviously gone for help when the cave-in occurred.

The golden haired elf lord reminded Aragorn of his friend who was still trapped. "Legolas!"

Elladan’s worried face filled the human’s vision. His brother looked very pale. "Estel, can you hear me? Ai... Estel..."

The ranger could not see himself and had no idea why they were so alarmed, or why his body was failing him in such a frustrating manner. He struggled weakly with the strong hands holding him.

Elrohir tried to hush his brother as he supported him, but Aragorn would have none of it. "Legolas is still down there! He’s trapped, we’ve got to go, we’ve got to help..." Aragorn’s knees buckled and he sank back into Elrohir’s embrace. The young elf lord scooped him up quickly, holding the ranger like a child while Elladan did something with the ranger’s arm. Aragorn couldn’t tell what his brothers were doing. He couldn’t see them anymore. He could not hold a steady train of thought. All he could think of was Legolas. He had to go back, he had promised! But his body had other ideas. Blackness darker than the fading night swept like a twilight tide over the ranger’s senses, and he knew no more.

 

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He was standing on a mountainside. In the distance a great, red eye was glaring at him as he clutched the sword in his hand tightly. Then the eye faded although the horizon remained dark. The world seemed empty and cold, but in a crevasse in the barren rock, a small, white sapling bloomed. He walked towards the tree, but found that it changed as he reached it and he was no longer on a mountain but in a garden, listening to a stream babble. The stream began flooding slowly, washing up to cover his boots. He looked down and found that it was not water at all, but blood. A deep, crimson flood of blood flowing out to cover the garden and himself...

Aragorn cried out, and as he did, the blood and the garden faded to darkness. He felt hands on his arms. They held him down, but were gentle, obviously meaning no harm.

"Hush, calm yourself, Estel. Come back to us..." a soothing voice spoke quietly in elvish.

Aragorn’s eyelids struggled open and he found himself staring up into the face of one of his brothers. At the moment he didn’t try to figure out which one. He was in his room, in Rivendell, of that he was sure at least, although it seemed unconscionably bright.

The elf, who was in fact Elrohir, touched his brother’s brow gently. "You’re awake," he commented with a small smile. "I thought you were going to sleep forever."

Aragorn tried to sit up, but thought better of it when his head flared with pounding pain. "How long...?" he asked groggily as he tried to focus his thoughts. He covered his eyes with one hand to keep the sunlight out. He found he could not move his other arm.

Elrohir helped him take a drink of water and pulled the drapes shut a little, bringing the light levels in the room down to something tolerable. "Three days, Estel. You had us very worried."

"Whas... wrong with me?" the ranger still wasn’t completely lucid.

Elrohir reseated himself on the edge of his brother’s bed. "You lost a lot of blood. Far more than you should have been able to. When ‘Dan and I found you you were so drenched in it that all your clothing was stained of crimson soaked earth. Your arm and your side were torn open and I believe you suffered some skull fractures. It’s a miracle you survived, brother," the elf whispered with grateful tenderness.

Aragorn tried to get his mind to focus on what his brother was saying. It was hard to think, but suddenly one thought shot through his mind like a bolt of lightening. "Legolas!" he nearly shouted, sitting bolt upright despite the pain.

Elrohir caught him, quickly pushing his brother back down before the jolt of activity and adrenaline could make him pass out again. "Daro! Stop that, Estel!" he chided as the human sank weakly back onto his pillows, head spinning.

"Legolas," Aragorn repeated hoarsely. He didn’t understand his brother’s complacency. "Where is he? He was trapped, he..."

Elrohir smiled slightly. "Roll over," was all he said.

Aragorn, now badly confused, did as he was told. The argument forming on his lips died as he did so.

Long, blonde hair spilled across the pillow next to him. Legolas’ head was bandaged, his hair flowing out from under the clean white strips swathing his brow. His eyes were closed, but Aragorn could see the steady rise and fall of his chest under the covers.

Careful of his own wounded arm, Aragorn rolled all the way over, facing the prince. "Is he going to be all right?" the ranger asked Elrohir worriedly.

"Yes, if he can get any rest," Legolas answered for himself. His voice was raspy and faint, but unmistakably dry as he opened one eye to look at the ranger next to him.

Aragorn could have hugged his friend if he hadn’t known how painful that would be for both of them. He was immensely relieved.

"It took us almost a day to dig him out and he was unconscious by the time we reached him, but he’s going to be all right, Estel," Elrohir gave a more detailed answer. "You are both blessed to be so hard to kill."

Legolas exhaled sardonically at that pronouncement, but pried both eyes open long enough to give Aragorn a warm smile. The prince still hurt everywhere. His wrist was immobilized in a splint and his ribs were bound tightly. He had been bruised so badly he could barely move. But Elrohir was right, they were both alive and that was not something they could take for granted after an experience like this.

"I need to go tell father that you are both awake. I will return, just try to rest," Elrohir said after a few moments, rising and crossing to the doorway.

Aragorn watched him leave and then turned his gaze towards the injured elf next to him. He didn’t move his head because that hurt far too much. "If he’s going to tell them we’re awake, why does he want us to rest?" he asked in slightly sarcastic confusion.

Legolas chuckled and then winced. "Ow, ow, stop, no laughing." He wheezed, smiling and grimacing at the same time as his broken ribs shifted. He was still very, very tired and his senses were dulling back towards sleep as his wounded body tried to heal itself.

"How long do you think they’ll keep us in bed?" Aragorn asked after a minute. He was in pain, but no longer tired enough to go back to sleep.

Legolas, whose eyes had drifted shut, opened them again with difficulty. "Probably longer than we need, but just at the moment, that’s actually an appealing thought."

Aragorn had to agree for once. He felt as if he had lost a battle with a stone giant, which in some ways he had. The longer he was awake, the more he noticed how much different parts of him ached. He fidgeted uncomfortably, shifting his position on the bed several times.

"I told you we’d get out." The ranger broke the silence yet again.

Legolas did not open his eyes this time. "Estel, I’m going to ask for my own room. A *quiet* one," he hinted none too gently. He didn’t want to be pulled all the way awake because then he too would be fully conscious of his pain again.

"Sorry," Aragorn murmured. He fell silent but continued shifting in small, distressed movements. His arm had started burning firecly and he wanted to lift it up onto his chest where it would be more comfortable, but his shoulder seemed to have been immobilized, or else he simply wasn’t quite coherent enough yet to completely control his body.

After five minutes of his friend’s fidgeting, Legolas gave up trying to rest and rolled painfully over to face Aragorn. It took a lot of effort to move, but he reached out and clumsily lifted Aragorn’s arm onto his chest for him, sensing what the man needed.

Aragorn’s closed eyes sprung open and he found Legolas’ face a few inches from his own. He could see the flush of pain upon the elf’s fair features and felt guilty. "I’m sorry," he apologized. "I didn’t mean to disturb you."

Legolas just smiled faintly and let himself sink back down into the pillows, cradling his broken wrist against his hurting ribs. "It’s all right."

Silence hung between them, but it seemed Legolas had something else he wanted to say.

"Estel... I would have died there by myself. I owe you my life and that is not something I will forget," the prince said quietly. "My bow and my life shall ever be at your service."

Aragorn knew that his friend was a proud elf and did not admit to weakness or need very easily. He accepted Legolas’ statement as the sincere sentiment that it was.

The ranger smiled back. "If I hadn’t had you to fight for, I would have died too," he admitted. "I would have stopped to rest in the tunnel when I felt I couldn’t go anymore and I would have bled to death under the earth. So I would say we are even, mellon-nín. Although I would be a fool to refuse such a valuable pledge. There is no one else I would rather have by my side."

Legolas let his head tilt forward a little, so his bandaged forehead rested against the bandages on Aragorn’s forehead as they lay facing one another. Sleep was tugging hard at the elf and he let his own weariness bleed through to affect his friend. They could both use some more rest.

"Me either," the prince murmured as sleep began to steal both of their consciousnesses away. "Even trapped under the earth."

"Even then," Aragorn murmured his consent.

When Elrohir returned with his father and his twin, they found the two friends sleeping, face to face with their heads touching. Black and blonde tresses wove together onto the pillow and at least while they were resting, the lines of pain were gone from their faces.

Elrond smiled. Both now, and for whatever the future held, they would both be fine.

 

 

THE END