Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

A heavy burden

So... there's not much suspense here to people who read the movie. But I found absolutely not realistic that Aragorn could have returned on his own after such a fall. It was actually even more stupid to write this whole warg attack fall out stuff, but Peter Jackson wanted it so... even if it's not in the book, I'll make do :p

The young lady dismounted, her expression grim. And then, Arod made something highly unusual. Instead of enjoying the little bit of greenish weeds that grew on the banks, he walked to Aragorn's body and nuzzled the side of his face.

— "Arod!"

But the horse was undeterred. Horrified, Frances came closer when mere seconds ago she dared not. She wanted his body undamaged, to offer Aragorn a decent burial; the last gift of a friend to another. As she arched against the horse to shoo him away, the ranger's chest heaved. Not so much, only the fraction of an inch. But enough for her to jump out of her skin. The blasted man was alive!

Astonished, Frances' hands trembled as she set her ear on his chest. Her mind refused to believe it. But his heart, beating faintly under the soaked shirt, confirmed otherwise. Aragorn really was alive! Had she not been so concerned, the young lady would have danced with joy. But so dire was the situation that she didn't take much time to think. Pushing the ranger to his side with a grunt, she was pleased to feel his muscles resist to her ministering. No water came out of his lungs; he had miraculously escaped drowning. There was no amount of words to express Frances' relief as she watched his chest raise and fall. It would have been very miserly indeed to find him alive only to lose him to pneumonia because of dry drowning.

Drained, Frances collapsed alongside Aragorn. The coarse sand and rocks were uncomfortable under her bottom, but she couldn't care less. The muscles were already numb from all the riding. Still, her mind was getting hazier than her body. They had come close, very close to losing the leader of their fellowship. She stayed motionless for a while as the idea sunk in, the sun continuing its course over the hills as she kept a hand on Aragorn's unconscious form. He breathed evenly, slowly, like a clock endlessly ticking until its spring broke.

In, and out. Frances concentrated on the slight movement of his chest until eventually the shock started to fade away, clearing her mind for the task at hand. Aragorn was hurt, but not as much as would be expected from a man tumbling down a cliff. The guy was lucky, or very well looked after. The ranger had yet to stir, giving her some time to fish out the first aid kit from her worn-out bag. Poor thing, there was not one spot of cloth unscathed from the terrible treatment it had to endure.

Pushing Aragorn back to his initial position, the young lady roamed her hands on the tall form, assessing if any bones had snapped during his fall. Relief washed over her as the ranger whimpered at her touch. Good or bad sign, she didn't know yet. Consciousness would come soon enough. Frances was no nurse, but she knew the basics of healing. The gash on his shoulder needed tending, and she set on working the bleeding wound the best she could.

Aragorn stirred several times while she cleansed it, awakened by the pain. Frances' eyebrows furrowed as she tried to apply a rough dressing over it. She couldn't bandage it lest she undressed Aragorn, and that was too difficult a task for the moment. They needed to clear the area and get to safety. And the man was so heavy. She could never remove the thousand layers of clothes and put them back without hurting him more, especially with him slouched in the sand.

— "Are you finished yet?", came a drowsy voice.

Frances started, her eyes meeting grey ones. She saw relief wash over the ranger's face as he realised that he was, at least temporary, safe and sound. His body relaxed in the sand, and he blinked.