Reasons to Hope, Reasons to Live

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Return to Emyn Arnen

Hope you'd like this chapter.

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The songs of birds, combined with the sound of running water, filled the area with a peace and tranquillity that starkly contrasted the tension within the cave where Faramir, Legolas, and the Rangers had taken shelter. It had been five days and six nights since Aragorn, Faramir, and the Rangers had found Legolas and Orophin. During that time, Aragorn had fallen into a fever, his body struggling to heal from the wound inflicted during his confrontation with Orophin. The air inside the cave was thick with unspoken worries, and the steady rhythm of the river outside was a cruel reminder of the time slipping away.

Opening his eyes, Legolas blinked away the sleepiness before he slowly rose. He was gradually regaining his strength now that he was rested and nourished, and his body slowly cleared itself of the lingering effects of the drug. His eyes fell on his feverish husband, watching as Aragorn's chest rose and fell slightly but steadily. He reached out and touched Aragorn's forehead, checking his temperature. The fever had not broken despite the Rangers' efforts to reduce it. According to one of them, the terrain's flora lacked a specific plant to help lower the fever. They had to return to the city as soon as possible if they wanted to save the King.

Legolas' eyes scanned the cave, taking in his surroundings. One Ranger was sleeping in one corner of the cave; Faramir was nowhere to be seen, while the other Ranger was guarding Orophin, tied at the far end. Staring at the Lórien Elf, Legolas frowned. He hadn't spoken to or even approached Orophin since he was rescued, yet he felt a pressing need to confront him about many things. The words he wanted to say felt like hard lumps in his throat that he couldn't swallow or speak out. Legolas didn't know why he hesitated to talk to Orophin or dismiss this urging to address him. However, he knew this wasn't the right time for such a confrontation. If he were to face the one who had killed his daughter and made his life miserable, he would do it when he was strong. He didn't want Orophin to see even the slightest hint of weakness.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Legolas turned and saw Faramir standing in front of him with a small jar in his hand.

"Good morning, Faramir," he replied with a faint smile.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Faramir asked, lowering himself beside Aragorn's body.

"I'd like to bathe before anything," Legolas said.

"Of course," Faramir said, his tone gentle. "You can take Aragorn's travel bag and use his spare clothes."

Legolas glanced down at his husband before looking back at Faramir, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he finally replied, his voice quiet but grateful. He touched Aragorn's hand briefly, a silent promise to return.

"He'll be fine," Faramir reassured. "I prepared a herbal drink that may help with his fever. Go and have your bath."

Legolas nodded before standing up and going to the small pack of belongings.

Faramir watched him go, his own heart heavy with worry. The Steward had always admired the bond between Aragorn and Legolas, a bond forged through years of friendship and battle, now tested by the gravest of circumstances. Both, he realized, were struggling with their inner turmoils. Still, the way Aragorn fought for Legolas and Legolas' own fight to come out alive touched Faramir deeply, as did their concern over the well-being of the other despite their own difficult circumstances. He sincerely believed that no matter how challenging times would be for the two, they would prevail because they had each other. He turned his attention back to Aragorn, gently lifting his head and placing it on his thighs before dripping the medicine between the King's slightly parted lips. Aragorn stirred a bit and swallowed before he relaxed again.