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To Resist both Wind and Tide	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4390 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do nto own Lord of the Rings and no money is made from this story, just fro fun.Characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five: Rumours and Lies

It could not be denied, Aragorn thought, that the elf looked less like a corpse and more like the figure of grace, beauty, and strength he was; less like a warrior dying of his wounds and more a fair, young ellon quiescent in repose. He looked, the man decided, innocent and rather vulnerable, inspiring the desire to protect and nurture him that currently filled his heart. Aragorn had never felt the sensation this strongly, though his gift for healing frequently engaged his compassion, centred as it was around the need to give succour and end suffering. Of course, he shared a more intense link with the Wood Elf than with most patients, the bond of life over death, and this must surely explain the depth of feeling growing within him.

Mayhap this exchange of light is a real phenomenon.

If so, what were the implications for him, having received some portion of the ellon's unusual power? Why had Elrond failed to instruct him in the technique and any possible repercussions? Perhaps it was particular to Wood Elves. He checked his patient over one more time. Legolas' vital signs were more stable, heart and breathing nearly normal; the fever appeared to have vanished; the disgusting ooze of yellowish pus was drying up. It pleased him to believe the brief massage and the stolen kiss had instilled energy sufficient to bring about such positive change. Naturally, his clinical treatment had not been without benefit.

Aragorn had cleaned off the poison's residue and carefully irrigated the nasty arrow-hole, surprised to find the tissue more wholesome when he did, the putrid odour diminishing as the diseased flesh easily sloughed off under the laving. The rent in the lung itself was sealed and elsewhere bright and clean blood spilled from the gash. The Ranger carefully packed and rebound the injury in clean bandaging and moved Legolas to lie upon a blanket supplied by Selwyn. While there was insufficient water to wash the long, yellow mane, its mangled state did not detract from Legolas' natural splendour, especially since he was unclothed and fully revealed, a well-shaped and rightly proportioned form that as nearly personified perfection as any ellon Aragorn had ever seen. He smiled and ran a hand through the tangled tresses.

Not so tall nor so formidable in aspect as Glorfindel, but just as magnificent in his own way. Nor is he as solidly noble and regal as my brothers, yet there is an air about him of wild gentility, if such is the right word to use. Here is a natural, unspoiled soul with raw vigour that bespeaks both ferocity and uncompromising valour.

It was not strange to him to sense these qualities bound up within a physique as refined as that of a dancer, with features of such elegance to rival the Lady Galadriel. It was widely held that all the First-born are beautiful and as compared to other races this was true. Compared against one another, as Aragorn had been granted much leisure to do over his growing years, there was definitely a spectrum of refinement within which distinct individuals must fall, ranging from merely pleasant regularity of features to superlative, breath-stealing magnificence. Legolas definitely occupied the exalted end of this scale.

"He is fair, but not what I expected in a sylvan warrior," Selwyn interrupted Aragorn's silent appraisal by indicating he had been engaged in much the same mental activity. "Stories say they are tall, imposing people with great strength of body and an even mightier gaze. I thought him a maid, for males are seldom so…delicate in form."

"Aye, he is pleasant to behold," agreed Aragorn, smiling over his shoulder, "but do not let the comely face and lithe body deceive you. This elf could easily defeat either one of us, or even both at once, if he was well and whole."

"Yes, even a snake can be beautiful while still being poisonous," Selwyn gave a sour grimace as he eyed the unconscious figure.

"And, like a snake, acts only according to his nature: without malice. Unlike a snake, this elf is capable of sacrifice and courageous action when doing nothing would have prevented the injury you see," Aragorn lectured. "Why is there such apprehension for the First-born among the Rohirrim?"

"We are not fearful of the fair folk," insisted Selwyn. "Rohan and Lothlorien occasionally engage in trade and exchange information pertinent to both countries' welfare, when need demands. The folk of the Golden Wood are perilous but righteous. Likewise, we know of the High Elves of Imladris and the legends of the great deeds those people made in times long past. Wood Elves are another breed altogether. They are treacherous and cunning, adept in black arts and sorcery; some say it is they who have brought the darkening of Mirkwood."

"Some say lies," retorted Aragorn. "None of the Wood Elves are known to be evil, Selwyn. They keep to themselves. Never have I heard of them making war with anyone, unless it is Orcs, and thus to defend their people and their country is no less than their right and duty. Would you do anything less for Rohan?"

"Of course not!" snapped Selwyn. "Yet, your view of these sylvans is as once we believed, also. Maybe once they were like other elves, but in these days the Wood Elves have become malicious, indeed."

"How so?"

"In short, some of the herders wanted to expand trade and rather than attempt taking the horses over the mountains, our contacts in Lorien suggested we go to Mirkwood and speak with the King. We were promised word would be sent ahead from the Galadhrim, an introduction of sorts. A small group of herders then set out and of the ten men and twenty horses, only two men returned. They had been taken captive and interrogated, claiming the Elves were trying to steal their souls right out of them. They say Wood Elves attacked and killed the rest of the party and the horses were scattered."

"That cannot be true," Aragorn blurted out. "If warfare broke out, there had to be a reason."

"Aye, that being their wish to take the horses and enchant our men, so to have spies here in Rohan when they were released."

"Why would the woodland folk want to do this? They have no need to steal when they keep horses of their own. This notion of enchantment is understandable but incorrect. As you remarked, the gaze of elvish eyes can be strong enough to terrify, but the power of the First-born to see into men's hearts does not include capturing the soul." It was obvious to Aragorn that the Wood Elves had been attempting to get at the truth. As to the ambush, he could not credit it.

"They kept the horses; none have the like of ours, not even elves," Selwyn said proudly. "What you say about sorcery I can aver when speaking of other folk, but Wood Elves are not like other Elves. Besides, we believe it was done to teach us a lesson: disturb the folk of Mirkwood at peril of life and limb. Rohan lost eight good men to sylvan arrows."

"Yet, for warning they could simply refuse the trading party, turning the herdsmen away at the borders. It does not make sense, Selwyn," Aragorn argued, absolutely certain the story must be false. He had heard and read of the efforts of the Wood Elves in the Last Alliance, and by all accounts King Thranduil was neither cowardly nor devious.

"There are any number of things they might have done," rejoined Selwyn. "The fact is they chose aggression against a peaceful trading party. We are not strong enough to challenge them else the two countries would be at war." He did not add that some people feared the Elven King wanted the lush grasslands of Rohan for his own, weary of his dreary wood.

"Those are grave words," intoned Aragorn.

"They are and I will not argue them with you further. I have said I have no wish for the elf to die here and now you understand why. Your depiction of his folk coming to Rohan for revenge is one I do fear. Beyond that, I am not one to hold every Wood Elf to account for what may have been the deeds of a few."

"Then there is doubt in your thoughts, at least." Aragorn was glad to know it and smiled. "I am certain we can discover what really happened. Perhaps Legolas knows something of it."

"Perhaps so." The Sheriff of the East Wold sighed, looking up and out into the ancient trees, exuding an uncommon combination of intrepid uneasiness. He'd sent his one remaining comrade to walk a perimeter and ensure there was no hostile activity headed their way, expecting him back in quick order. Selwyn was literally counting the seconds. His eyes met Aragorn's and he made a face, half chastising frown and half grimace of dread. "How much longer will this treatment take? I do not think it wise to keep an open fire burning for very long."

"Agreed," nodded Aragorn, "but I need to keep watch over him for a time while he sleeps. If the infection resumes, I may need to reopen the wound. I cannot allow the lung to become putrid, for then it may be impossible to save him." He tested Legolas' pulse again and gently lifted one eyelid, gratified to observe the pupil's contraction in response to the light. The shuttered eyes blinked and partially opened; the Wood Elf's hand lifted, searching, and grasped lightly to the man's when he found it.

"Kalrô," he muttered, shutting his eyes again.

"Yes, Legolas, I am here. There is no need to stir just yet; rest and recover your strength, mellon." Aragorn squeezed the long fingers and Legolas inhaled in a hitched and gasping manner, indicating there was still great pain around the lung, and slipped deeper into his healing slumber as the breath left him. The man wondered if the physical contact maintained the exchange of soul-light the archer needed or if only the caressing touch was effective. He was inclined to repeat it, but was rather too conscious of Selwyn's presence to do so.

"What is that he calls you?" asked Selwyn, still suspicious, for Thorongil was not said to keep company with elves. This man must be in league with the woodland folk, a spy sent here to gather information in preparation for an invasion.

"An elvish word, his name for me. The First-born are like that; they look at you once and give you a name and no matter what you tell them that is how you will be called thenceforth." Aragorn smiled, thinking of the translation Legolas had revealed, but kept that to himself.

"So that is you real name," the Sheriff nodded. It must be as he suspected. He would have to get both intruders to Meduseld for interrogation. The pair must know the Woodland King's plans.

"I am called many names," admitted Aragorn. "In Imladris I am Estel while to Gondor and Rohan I am Thorongil and to the folk of Eriador I am simply Strider, a Ranger of the hinterlands. For Legolas alone I am Kalrô." He was not aware of the warmth in his tone as he spoke this last part and did not quite understand Selwyn's arched brows and knowing look.

Selwyn decided the man really was Thorongil, but enchanted. No doubt being this elf's lover meant he would protect him staunchly, even as he had stated earlier. Having a man so well known to the Rohirrim along to get him past the Marshals of the Mark was a clever ploy and the Sheriff wondered now if the elf was only a spy or something even worse. Rohan was about to crown a new King and if he escorted these two to Edoras, mayhap he would be aiding the plans. Could this elf hope to murder Theoden King and plunge the country into disorder and chaos?

He opened his mouth to speak, for Aragorn was eyeing him closely, the man's gaze almost as hard to hold as an elf's, but before he could utter a sound an ominous groaning and creaking noise echoed through the woods. It died away slowly and the two men shared anxious expressions of puzzled dread. Even as they reached the same conclusion and moved to kill the flames, a shriek of terror raised the hairs on their necks and the tempo of their hearts. Aragorn hastened to Selwyn's side and held out his hand. "Sword," he ordered and the Sheriff did not hesitate to comply, drawing his own in kind. They stood side by side, allies in necessity, enmity forgotten, ready to fight whatever came at them through the cluttered wood.

The eerie grating of wood against wood made them clench their jaws, the bizarre noise growing ever louder and closer. Aragorn moved quickly to Legolas', resting in relaxed oblivion, and stood over him, prepared to die defending the one who had saved his life but dearly hoping it did not come to that. A hasty bargain with Manwë asked the Vala to spare him, reminding the King of the West that without help Legolas must surely perish. A loud crashing of leaves and limbs accompanied the pounding of feet and the men tensed for battle. Simultaneously they stumbled in mid-charge when Selwyn's comrade burst into the clearing, gasping and whimpering, eyes huge and face white as Ithil.

"Beldon!" shouted Selwyn, sheathing his sword and gripping the man firmly at the arms. "What is it; what is out there?"

"Trees!" wailed Beldon and broke from his captain in terror, running for the open grasslands as the creaky moaning resumed. A second or two later more branch-thrashing ensued as the man's horse breached the glade, neatly leapt the blaze, and went galloping after.

"What in Arda?" demanded Aragorn, but he had no need of words for what his eyes could see. Contrary to everything he knew of green life, these trees were not ordinary, stationary, rooted denizens of the forest. They were moving, closing in on the clearing with surprising speed, and for a moment all he could do was gape in shocked denial.

"Now you see!" yelled Selwyn. "Tell me this is not the doing of your Wood Elf. He has set the very trees upon us!"

"Nay!" shouted Aragorn. "Legolas would not do me ha…"

He was cut off as Tuilelindô head-butted him in the back, her dark intelligent eyes rolling with fear. She danced back to her master, took his hair between her teeth, and yanked. Legolas came out of his reverie with a yelp.

"Ai! Bâ! Ni khaustâ," (Ai! Stop! I am resting.) he complained groggily and blinked blearily around, pushing up on his elbows with a groan. "Kalrô?"

"Im sí, Im sí" assured Aragorn, crouching beside Legolas to settle a cautioning hand on his shoulder. "Mellon, gerim trastad. (Friend, we've got a problem.) Do you think you can ride?"

Legolas' became alert just as a series of loud and strident clacks and claps rang through the clearing, a sound like wooden staves striking one another. It was not something he was familiar with but the noise was menacing for that fact if nothing else, and Tuilelindô was certainly frightened. He pushed himself to his knees and caught sight of the fire, disbelieving his eyes at first. Vaguely he recalled some discussion about it, but he'd been on the brink of collapse at the time. Had that not been part of the fever dream? The threatening noise repeated and grew louder.

"Ai! What idiot made fire in Fangorn?" he cried. Without waiting for the answer, he extended his arm straight out, pointed toward the crackling blaze palm downward. Lowering his hand abruptly, he spoke in loud tones of command: "Alnar!" (No fire!) Instantly the blaze extinguished itself; not even a wisp of smoke remained to bear witness to its brief existence. As for Legolas, he wobbled a bit and then simply crumpled into a senseless heap.

Aragorn and Selwyn stood staring in open-mouthed disbelief, again, fear and fury suspended in the wake of this display of elvish authority over so potent an element as fire. Their eyes moved from the scorched pit, in which the charred wood was cold and black, to one another, to the strange trees poised just on the verge of the clearing. It would seem the Wood Elf's action was a surprise to them as well. Then Selwyn's horse half-reared, pulling at reins secured to a bush, and Tuilelindô whinnied anxiously as she nosed her master. The trees began moving again. So did the men.

Selwyn dashed for his horse and sprang upon its back, ripping the leather leads from the shrub and shouting as he kneed the animal into a lunging run. He took no note of Aragorn's progress, deeming it time to cut loose his prisoners and leave the man to whatever fate befriending a sylvan elf earned him. He hardly needed to direct the horse, who waited barely long enough for Selwyn's rear to meet the saddle before breaking into a frantic gallop, aiming for the meadows of the Wold, weaving through the threatening trees, dodging outreaching limbs, lathered sides heaving.

Aragorn observed this with the thought that Selwyn was a wise man, sheathed his sword, and scooped the limp archer from the ground. Tuilelindô stood still, quivering and snorting, as her master was slung over her shoulders once more and the man hauled himself up behind. Legolas exhaled a short cry of pain and struggled to adjust his position, dimly recalling recent events. Behind him, Aragorn had just sufficient time to snatch a handful of her black mane and circle an arm about his friend's waist before she bolted. Legolas doubled over, clutching tight to the man's arm, his mare's mane, and consciousness, too. Unsure as to what exactly was happening, he trusted Tuilelindô's instinct to flee and did not attempt to guide or slow her.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, it occurred to Aragorn to wonder what offence he had committed and which Vala he had so incensed to call down upon himself such dramatic and persistent torment. Uruks from Mordor, Orcs from Dol Guldur, on wargs yet, enraged Wraiths, a sickly sylvan for whose life I am now answerable, Wood Elf-hating Rohirric knights, and now attacking trees from Fangorn Forest. Beyond that he was supremely grateful the doughty mare was too swift for the peripatetic oaks and ashes as the brighter light of the open meadow beckoned.

Man, Elf, and mare burst onto the plains and Tuilelindô kept running, trailing the thundering company of the Rohirrim as the horsemen urged their chargers for every ounce of speed. In short order the rear-guard spotted the stragglers and a shout accompanied the men's disbelieving stares. Word raced through them faster than their steeds galloped and the calvary increased its pace, many faces looking back on their pursuers with as much fear as if the trees were still after them. Selwyn called orders in their native tongue that Aragorn did not catch but it was not hard to figure out. Nonetheless, the company was not at first willing to abide by the commands, hoping instead to out race the stranger and his unwelcome companion.

"Ai Valar, horse slavers," Legolas growled, watching the throng galloping ahead. "What have you done, Kalrô? Tuilelindô, meina dele Taurê Smalta, askarâ!" (Tuilelindô, I want to get going to the Golden Wood, quickly!) With what strength he had Legolas urged his mare for a new direction, desperate to escape. She obeyed, swerving northward so that they drew apart from the thundering mass of men and horses, heading back across the Wold.

"No, Legolas!" Aragorn shouted in his ear, which made the ellon cringe. A brief over the shoulder glare chastised the man. "Apologies, mellon, but we need these men and their supplies."

As it turned out, Aragorn had no need to be dismayed. Behind them arose a clamour of yells and curses as Selwyn raged at his troops and they persisted in objecting. The word treason drifted through the air. Aragorn looked back to discover the Sheriff closing on him and the rest of the horsemen reluctantly following. Legolas' head ducked beneath his arm and a most obscene expression in dwarvish issued from his lips. He shifted until he was nearly lying on the mare's neck, pulling Aragorn down with him, and uttered an urgent command in Tuilelindô's ear. She responded with an unprecedented burst of energy the man would not have thought possible given the effort she had already exerted.

The chase was on; Tuilelindô giving the utmost to meet her master's request, ears back, neck flattened and stretched forward as she sped over the ground, cutting the air before her as straight and true as a well-aimed arrow. The determined charger bearing Selwyn was just as frantic to gain on the mare, nostrils flared and muscles driving to propel him close enough to catch her. The horses poured over the plain, hooves grabbing up the turf and shoving it behind them, clods of grassy earth ripped away and flung through the air, tails streaming and manes whipping their riders' faces. Yet weight was no small factor and the sylvan horse carried two riders while the Rohirric steed only one. With every stride the Sheriff's charger was gaining. The moment came when they were racing head to head and Legolas directed a chilling glare at Selwyn that made the mortal catch his breath.

Abruptly, the Wood Elf slowed his horse to a canter and swung her in a wide arc that sent her hurtling directly into the clump of the galloping cavalry. Shouts of surprise and fear arose and more than one lance levelled at the oncoming mare, but not a single horse would bear its rider into effective striking range, dodging, twisting and twirling away as Tuilelindô split the herd in twain. Those spears launched buried uselessly in the soil. More shouts arose as Selwyn ordered defensive measures only and had his men surround the labouring mare and her exhausted master. Reluctantly, Tuilelindô reduced speed to a mincing walk as she continued to wheel and dance, trying with what means left to her to protect Legolas. His voice soothed her and she relented at least, halting in the closing circle, head up, sides heaving in mighty gusts, great heart pounding, defiant even in defeat.

"Mellon, I beg you to let me handle this situation," Aragorn whispered, bent close to Legolas' ear. An exasperated eye swivelled to meet his and he hurriedly continued, dropping his voice even lower. "And I must plead with you not to reveal the name Aragorn to these men."

"What? Why?" Legolas, caught off guard by the unexpected request, forgot to challenge the grim-faced horseman guiding his blowing horse through the ring of lowered lances.

"It is a name I only give to those I know and trust," Aragorn muttered hastily, grey eye locked with bright blue, and was gratified to see the anger there melt into wondrous amazement. He smiled and squeezed Legolas' shoulder with his free hand, straightening as he raised his gaze to met Selwyn's aggravated scowl. "This is hardly necessary. Have your men draw back, Selwyn; we are no threat to you. I thought that fact was established."
"The only facts I have in hand are those my eyes have gathered," answered the horseman. "I have seen things told in legends and folk-lore," he added, raising his voice and meeting the concerned faces of his men. "Here is a Wood Elf, injured and in the care of a man who claims allegiance and friendship with Thengel King." Murmuring arose as the riders discussed the statement, not overly surprised for their comrade had already told them this and more. Selwyn went on. "I have seen trees walk, intent upon our destruction, it seemed. Mayhap the elf commands them and…"

"Fool! No one commands the trees of Fangorn," scoffed Legolas. This did not go over well with the men of Rohan.

"A spy!" one shouted. "He is one of those who murdered our friends, Selwyn."

"Aye, he deserves death!" shouted another and the rest raised their angry voices in agreement. They shook their spears and had Selwyn not been in the way it is doubtful the interlopers would have lived past the moment. It took a good deal of voluble convincing, Selwyn demanding restraint from his men, Aragorn begging Legolas to keep his mouth shut, before the situation eased. Aragorn, keeping a firm grip on Legolas arm, spoke.

"Legolas has not murdered anyone," he said calmly. "If there is a grievance between Rohan and Greenwood, more violence is not the way to end it."

"Grievance? That is a nice word for killing honest tradesmen," retorted one of the horsemen.

"No Wood Elf has killed anyone from Rohan," countered Legolas. "It is Rohan who betrayed the people of Greenwood."

"Liar!" one man accused and strove to drive his horse past Selwyn's. Tuilelindô ably managed to remain behind the Sheriff's war horse as the milling animals jostled and bumped one another. Things settled when Selwyn grabbed the horse's bridle and thrust it backward.

"The sylvan people do not lie," insisted Aragorn. "Legolas saved my life, knowing nothing about me or from whence I came. Is that the act of a killer?"

"If your life served his purpose, it might be, " said Selwyn. "Mayhap you are enchanted."

"Ai Valar!" Legolas spat. "Verily do I wish I possessed that skill, sir, that I might gain my freedom."

"Indeed, I am not enchanted, Selwyn," Aragorn asserted. "My thoughts and actions are my own."

"How can we know this? We know nothing of you," said one of the men.

"I have proofs in the form of letters from Gondor that attest to…"

"You might have waylaid Thorongil and stolen those," another interrupted.

"No matter who he is," Selwyn broke in, "we must decide what is to be done. I am loath to lead them to Meduseld in case the elf works some other magic about which we cannot guess. Already I have seen him control fire at will, extinguishing the blaze that so incensed the trees of Fangorn."

"And by so doing saved our lives," commented Aragorn.

"Yet even if this elf is an enemy, we are Men and not Orcs," Selwyn continued. "We do not strike down a defenceless opponent without just investigation of the matter at hand. This one Elf was not responsible for what happened to our folk, but maybe he knows something of it. That is what I mean to learn."

"I know much about it," growled Legolas in fury, "and it is your people who…"

"Legolas, be quiet!" fumed Aragorn.

"Mayhap it is time to choose a new Sheriff," called one soldier.

"That is your right," said Selwyn, "and I will step down if that comes to pass, but this is not the place or time for it. If I am in the wrong I will accept the censure and punishment of my King. Until then, I say we attempt to act like men of reason and unravel this confusion."

"There is no confusion in my mind," snarled Legolas, addressing the Sheriff. "Let me pass if you are honourable, sir; I am as eager to leave here as your men are to have me go."

"Legolas, these men are not in league with the Shadow," said Aragorn.

"Do you now call me a liar, too?" asked the Wood Elf, much aggrieved to find the man would side with his own after all. "Get you down, then, and join your people."

"These are not my people," Aragorn corrected sharply, "but neither are they enemies, to your kind or to mine. It is clear that Darkness has once more driven a wedge between nations that should support one another. I hold that both claims are lies."

"A valid consideration," announced Selwyn. His men complained and he bellowed for silence. "Hear me out: if this is a ploy of the Shadow then we have all been used for its ends. Is that our creed? Murder has been done on both sides, this much seems true, for the Elf's wrath is genuine, but who has done it?"

"Wood Elves," came the answer. "They were seen to slay our people and run off the horses brought to make trade."

"Nay! It was a party of men from Rohan who lured my kin out from under the trees, lulled into trust by pleasing words spoken in the King's halls. An envoy went forth to see these tradesmen and their horses. Alas, lances speared them even as they entered the sunlit valley," countered Legolas. His words ended in choked misery and he dropped his face against the mare with a groan, for the pain was of body and soul both. Worn out from the chase and bereft of the adrenalin that had carried him through it, still weak from the poison's assault, Legolas found himself unable to go on. "Ai, Kalrô, to what end have you brought me?"

"Forgive me, my friend; I meant no such trouble to burden you," answered the man, truly distressed to see how strongly the elf was affected. Indeed, it was a tragic tale, whichever version was correct.

"It would seem your friend still requires care despite that gallant race across the plains," said Selwyn, wisely knowing his men could not but appreciate the skill with which the elf managed his steed. It was a small point, but presently there was nothing else in the captive's favour.

"Aye, he does, no matter his denials," agreed Aragorn. Legolas did not try to contradict him. "Your men want answers," he continued, having decided on a course that might move them from hostility to patience. "Let me tend to him and then we shall uncover the truth of this matter. If it is as your fellows claim and Legolas' people are the aggressors, then I will personally escort him to Edoras to face the just punishment of the King. Even more, I will go myself to the realm of King Thranduil and carry the tidings of this tribunal."

"What?" mumbled Legolas, making an ineffectual effort to unseat Aragorn. "Betrayer!" he hissed in despair and ceased his struggle, falling listless against Tuilelindô's neck. As for the mare, she was thoroughly confused, sensing her master's pain and anguish but also his unwillingness to harm the man. That being the case, she remained still.

"I will not betray you," claimed Aragorn. "I will not abandon you, Legolas, for both you and I know these charges are false. However it seems or whatever these men were told, Wood Elves do not attack unprovoked. Even the folk of Dunland know this to be true. Trust me, mellon. We share a bond of life over death."

"So I thought," grieved Legolas and sighed heavily. He was in no condition to fight; he had no choice but to accept these terms, biding his time until he was stronger. Then, he would teach this treacherous man a lesson he would not soon forget and render these horse-slavers so fearful of sylvans that they would never again set foot across Anduin.

"Then we are in accord," announced Selwyn. "We will camp here while the elf recovers and then we will hold trial. If our findings indicate the Woodland people have harmed us, then this elf will pay for all. Does that suit?" His stern glare and uncompromising tone made it plain he expected no disagreement. Grudgingly, his men signified their assent and dismounted, setting up tents and tending their chargers. Many a cold glare passed over the disabled elf and his protectors.

Selwyn met Aragorn's troubled gaze with cold misgiving. "Do not be alarmed; he is safe for the time being," he said. "I hold you responsible for his actions here. If he attempts to kill anyone, I will name you equally guilty and both your lives forfeit."

"I alone answer for what I do," announced Legolas, voice low and fraught with misery, "no matter how repugnant, even though it must crush my heart."

In silence the two men regarded him, uncomfortable with both the statement and the evident sorrow with which it was uttered. Their eyes met uneasily and Selwyn dismounted. "You may have the use of my tent." He held up his hand and spoke gruffly as he saw Thorongil poised to offer thanks. "It is not for your comfort or his, but to isolate you both from my men. I will not have any of them harmed because of zealousness to avenge their kinfolk."

"I see." Aragorn was grim but not hopeless. Selwyn displayed a cool head and an ability to manage his troops even under trying conditions. This equanimity promised that the truth must overrule his doubts. He slid from Tuilelindô's back and pulled Legolas down with him, hefting the ungainly collection of lax limbs with difficulty. The archer clutched to him, arms about his neck, suddenly rigid as his body protested the jostling and jarring.

"You mean to see me dead now?" he ground out, trying without result to stifle the rapid gusts of breath required to see him through the tearing agony.

"Nay, I mean to see you well and strong, and yes, I know that once you are you can easily defeat not only me but any man here," Aragorn murmured quietly, meeting the sylvan's eyes honestly. "I trust you will not kill what you have suffered so much to preserve, mellon. There is more at work here than can yet be perceived at first telling. Trust me and mayhap both Greenwood and Rohan will deal a blow to the masters of Dol Guldur." He took an educated guess in mentioning the black tower, not forgetting the ellon's unusual proximity to it and the remnant evidence of torture on his body.

Legolas peered into the calm grey eyes and sought for the lie that must be there, hidden so well he had missed it, but he found only that which had inspired his decision to befriend the human. Aragorn was noble and must have a reason for his seemingly traitorous behaviour. Legolas groaned in exhausted misery and leaned his head against the man's shoulder. "So be it. I will go on trusting you until the moment these men condemn me and you try to fulfil your promise. Then it will be as I have said: I will not be taken alive."

They lurched toward the tent Selwyn was erecting, Legolas unwilling to show weakness by being carried there. Inside, he gratefully laid his battered body down and sighed.The blanket was coarse and rough against his skin, the ground hard beneath it. He wished for a soft nest of ferns and pine boughs but he did not want to complain.

"Quenching the fire depleted me; my light ebbs even as I try to heal. Yet now I have desperate need to heal fully and quickly. I will need your assistance again, Kalrô"

"Ah, you mean the giving of soul-light? I confess I am not sure how it works, mellon, but if you say it aids you then, of course…"

"Are you a healer or not? Can you not detect improvement? I must say I find your claims of tutoring by Lord Elrond difficult to credit."

"I noted the healing when I cleansed the wound," Aragorn answered defensively. "Lord Elrond did not instruct me about this light sharing procedure. I am thinking it is a sylvan method." He knelt beside Legolas and tentatively began the soothing caress, glad to see the Wood Elf relax. It was a little disconcerting to note the evidence of the body's responsiveness as tiny pink nipples tightened up and became as dark as garnets, while a slight quickening of the penis warned that full arousal might result. "Uh, like this, mellon?" Aragorn swallowed as he met the ellon's dreamy gaze.

"Aye, perfect," Legolas sighed, shivering and reaching up to run his hand over Aragorn's bare chest. "Why are men so hairy?" he asked.
"Thus Iluvatar made us," shrugged Aragorn, face colouring as he watched Legolas respond, moderately alarmed to feel himself begin to experience a like sensation of desire. He abruptly stopped and sat aside, making a pretence of looking through the pack Selwyn had left in the tent. "Mayhap he has way-bread," he muttered, unable to meet Legolas' troubled eyes.

"Why did you stop?" the archer demanded.

"I, uh, find the treatment a bit…intimate," the man admitted, daring a quick glimpse of the hurt expression on Legolas' face. "I just have been schooled to remain more removed from such…personal contact with my patients."

"Patient? Is that what I am? What about our bond of life over death?" fumed Legolas, now feeling embarrassed to have let this stranger get so close to him that he had shared his light. Why had he done that? Why had he cared so much to ensure this mortal lived? He rolled over and presented a rigid back, legs drawn up against his chest and arms hugging them. "No wonder, trained by Noldor, whose aid kills as often as it cures."

"I do not mean to offend," pleaded Aragorn, "but this is all new to me." That was not entirely true; he'd had his share of lovers, the first being Lindir, but he had never been drawn in this manner to a patient. For some reason, the natural barrier that usually existed between him and those in his care failed to develop. He reached a tentative hand and trailed his fingers over the stiff spine, pleased to see the faded bruising completely gone. At first, Legolas became even more unyielding, but Aragorn was genuine in his desire to lend help and this was made evident through their point of contact. It was much easier to do without watching Legolas becoming aroused. Gradually, the ellon relaxed and stretched his legs out, but refused to roll over.

Legolas sighed in sombre resignation, deeming he had somehow stepped over a boundary he did not understand, some Noldorin custom perhaps. He realised that his caress had unsettled Aragorn, though the man's response could not be denied, and so he decided not to touch him again until he fell into sleep. Still, there was that assuring remark about names and trust to consider, and the contact was filled with the man's light. He gave freely without reserve and so Legolas grew content. He sighed again. "Who was stupid enough to light a blaze in Fangorn?" he queried.

"Ah. That would be me, Legolas," Aragorn admitted. "I needed hot water to steep the cleansing herbs and purify a blade in case I had to excise the diseased tissue."

The Wood Elf half turned to look over his shoulder in wonder. "You made the fire?"

"Well, I had Selwyn do it because I was tending you. There was no harm in it; the blaze was very small and fully contained."

"No harm? That is absurd. Would you be insulted if someone came to your home and set fire to it?"

"I didn't set fire to Fangorn, Legolas, and I felt the forest would understand that I was helping a Wood Elf. Surely that must count for something."

"Why? No elves have ever lived in Fangorn, though legend says sylvan elves taught the trees to speak. Yet we acknowledge they are sovereign beings with the same rights as any others to freedom. Why do men assume that just because they cannot hear or understand what is being said, that nothing is being said?"

"Ai! I respect green life, Legolas. I just thought the trees would understand what I was doing."

"Not without telling them and not without asking their permission first," he explained, exasperated. "Very poor manners." Legolas laid back down fully and shivered a little as the rough fibres rubbed his skin, and that reminded him of something else. "Where are my clothes, Kalrô? I cannot go around naked in front of all these men."

Aragorn was silent a few moments, prompting another half turn and seething glare from the Wood Elf. He cleared his throat and sent a particularly soothing caress over the ellon's shoulders. "Well, in all the excitement of being taken prisoner by Selwyn and then having trees chasing us, and being taken prisoner again, I left them behind. I am sorry, mellon." He offered an apologetic smile but the expression barely had time to take shape before he was struck a resounding slap on the cheek, so sharp the clap was loud and stung his face. He reeled backward in surprise, hand to his burning cheek. "Ai! You are fast when you want to be."

"That was promised you and you have more than earned it."

"Perhaps, yet I resent that you must have used light I just gave you to achieve such quickness."

"That you earned as well, placing me in this perilous predicament, naked and wounded and weaponless. How can you call me friend?"

To that Aragorn had much to say, attempting to reassure Legolas that he would not allow any harm to come to him. He offered his shirt as a temporary cover for ellon's nudity and was growled at so fiercely he feared another blow was imminent.

Yet Legolas was weary and needed sleep more than anything else, and in spite of his complaints he still trusted the man. He finally rolled over and reached for Aragorn's hand, settling it over his heart. "Kalrô, is it safe to sleep?"

"Aye, Legolas; I will watch over you."

"No more attacks and forced flights?"

"No, I am sure Selwyn will manage his men properly."

"You have your sword?"

"I do." He drew it forward and laid it on the ground beside the elf. "I will use it in your defence; have no fear."

"Even against men?"

"Yes, Legolas, even against men."

That seemed to finally convince the elf. He smiled as the blue eyes blinked twice and glazed over, lids dropping almost all the way shut but not quite. Aragorn found himself continuing the healing caress and humming a soft song, hoping he would not need to use violence against the men of Rohan but committed to do so if it was needed.

Aye, a bond of life over death, even as he said.

Just thinking this gave him a serene feeling of comfort, not doubting the bond would endure throughout his life-time and beyond.

TBC

The title is taken from "What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide." which is from Shakespeare's Henry VI, part 3, Act IV, Scene III
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To Resist both Wind and Tide

Chapter Five: Rumours and Lies