NOTES: Aragorn's POV

A Secret Untold - Chapter 15

Kneeling down, I carefully picked up the elf prince. Tall and strong as he was, he felt as weak as a child in my arms. His unseeing eyes stared up at the sky. I had seen poisoning before, but never had it gripped my heart with fear as it has this time. I lifted him onto the horse, where he flopped forward onto its neck until I climbed up myself, leaning him back against my chest as I urged the horse forwards, back towards Rivendell. The horse heard the urgency in my voice, and we rode swifter than the wind towards the last homely house.
"He must not die, he must not die," I whispered to myself, over and over.
But what if he did? How could I live if he died? I felt it was my fault. If I had not let myself be caught out by that orc he would not have had to save my life. If he hadn't had to do that, he wouldn't be so close to the cold grasp of death.
I looked at the elf's face. It had turned a strange grey colour, and sweat was pouring from his skin. The wound on his arm had bled through the makeshift bandage I had placed on it, and his whole arm was swollen, his clothing now tight against it. With one hand holding him on the horse, I pulled hard with the other in an attempt to rip the fabric away. The bandage came away with his sleeve, and I shuddered to see the state of the wound. Ominous looking yellow poison sat under the skin around the wound whilst blood still trickled from it, the skin was turning a bruised purple. I removed the gauntlet on the injured arm, trying to relieve some of the pressure the poison was causing, and urged the horse faster. If Legolas did not get help soon, he would die.
"Hold on Legolas," I whispered to him.

We reached Rivendell after a few hours hard riding, I had pushed the horse to go faster than it had before. Approaching the gates, I shouted to the gatekeeper, "Open the gates! Legolas is injured! Get help!" Hurriedly the gatekeeper had opened up the entrance to Rivendell, and another elf had run towards the house of Elrond. I followed swiftly, Legolas still unconscious in my arms, and was met by Elrond at the door. Taking one look at the prince, he motioned to me to follow, and almost ran to a room on the first floor. I laid Legolas on the bed, and Elrond bent over him, placing a hand on his forehead.
"Poison?" I realised he had asked me a question.
"Yes. Orcs." I tried to explain what had happened, but found I could not find the words. Elrond nodded, understanding, and spoke quietly to the healer who had entered the room. She disappeared for minutes, then returned with a bowl filled with a greenish concoction that steamed gently from the cloth as it was dipped in the liquid and applied to Legolas's wound.
"Leave us a while, Aragorn," Elrond spoke without turning away from the prince, one hand still on the elf's forehead, the other on Legolas's chest, over his heart.
"But...but...I cannot," I told him. He stood up and turned to me.
"I know Legolas is a great friend of yours, he is dear to me also, but I need time alone to heal him...and you need some healing yourself," he pointed to a gash on my cheek which I hadn't even noticed. "Go and wash, and sleep, you need it," he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and led me through the door. "Do not worry. I will not let him die," he spoke gently, but his words had a determined edge to them.
"I hope not," I whispered as the door closed gently behind me.