Aragorn did not move, nor speak, as he gazed on his target. It was a cloaked figure, their breaths were heavy as a dark liquid oozed out of their mouth, which Aragorn quickly pressumed as blood.

"Ego!" A man. It was a man. A man speaking in another language.

Aragorn still would not dare to move. He was still as a rock as he watched the stranger started coughing again. His whole body shook as he did so.

"Are you wounded?"

"Ego!" The man spat again.

Aragorn warily took a step forward.

The man shifted, and as he did, his cloak was lifted and Aragorn could see his presumably clothes soaked in deep dark color.

Blood.

"You are injured."

"I said 'go'!" The man yelled in westron, he had a strange lisp as he spoke, one that Aragorn could not place.

"Please, let me see-"

The man spat out another word. In the 'other' language, this time longer. Yet with the tone, Aragorn knew it must've been a bad word.

"I need to see your wounds."

Aragorn kneeled down, just two steps away from the man.

"Please."

"Do not come close." The man hissed, yet Aragorn paid no mind.

He stared as the man's soaked clothes. He stared as the man started coughing, he knew he could not just sit there and watch.

His mother told him, multiple times, 'It was not right to stay still and watch if we could help.' and Aragorn could not help but wanting to do so.

Now. If only he could just knock the knife away..

He watched the man's shocked expression as he lunged ontop of him, Aragorn bent the man's wrist so that he dropped the dagger before the man could do anything. Then, he struggled to pin the man down.

It was not hard to do so, as it seemed the man's injuries were worryingly bad. It was as far as Aragorn could tell however, for the man lacked any strength and it was quite hard to make out the wounds in the dark.

One thing for sure, that it smelt like a rotten egg.

For Aragorn learnt things from the healing ward,-as he often went there to watch the healers, it fascinated him-, and a strange odor from open wounds were never a good thing. He once saw flesh turned green, that the healer had to cut it away.

Aragorn shifted many times so that the dim light could illuminate the wounds, somehow. Yet as his eyes began to adjust, Aragorn could make out a long line, stretching from the man's shoulder to his torso.

It was not a clean cut. It was jagged, with different depths and widths. It was a very terrible cut that Aragorn had to bit his tongue to stop himself regurgitate.

He was a grown man. He could do this. He was no boy. He had seen the healers. He helped them. He could do this.

Aragorn slowly peeled off the stranger's clothes, watchful over the man's groans of pain. He examined the wounds as best as he could, tapping it lightly, only to pull it back quickly as it earned a howl of pain.

With the help of the knife, Aragorn managed to create a somewhat sufficient bandage strips. He dabbed the wounds very very carefully with it, as he needed to clean it firsthand.

In the end, he could not for the darkness made him unable to see.

Aragorn backed away to try to see the wounds again, yet widened his eyes and his jaw dropped as he realized he was not 'healing' a man after all.

An elf.

A real, living, elf.

He had long strands of hair, darkened with dirt and dried blood, and ears that were too pointy for a man.

Aragorn thought of the stories. The dangers he had been told of elves. How dangerous they were. Yet he looked at the injured elf, and could not help but feel..

Remorse.

He needed help.

Aragorn did not care. The elf was now his patient. And he was not letting anyone dying on him, man or no.

The elf breathed. Uttering words. Aragorn leaned in,

"What?"

He strained his ears to listen,
"Athelas.."

"What?"

"Athelas.. K-... Kingsfoil. ..Heal.." The elf coughed violently.

Kingsfoil. He heard the name before. Somewhere..

Aragorn bolted up straight as he ran for the creek. There was no time.

He was forever glad that when he returned, the elf was still there. Alive, thankfully.

He had seen many herbs used as healing properties in the ward. Aragorn really did not consider anything anymore as he popped two leaves in his mouth, chewed it untill he thought it was adequate, then rolled them in his palm before stuffing it to the elf's wound.

The elf groaned in pain once again as Aragorn spread the makeshift salve to wounds. It would sting, surely, yet the dunedàn could not imagine what unbearable pain the elf was having.

The moon was high as he tied the bandages tightly around the elf's shoulder. Aragorn made sure it would not move nor shifted as to hurt the elf further, then he draped over the elf's long cloak over his body. As to hid him.

"I would not go for long," Aragorn said as he looked up to sky. Presumably it was near ten, he definitely missed dinner.

"I would return tomorrow morning. Please refrain yourself from moving, as it would worsen your injuries." He continued, not long before he was on his feet and started running back to Laketown.

X

He did, miss dinner. And his father had slap him, twice, for 'playing' untill passed twillight,-turned out, Leon had keep his mouth shut and pretended to think that Aragorn had return earlier-. Yet he did not care. He couldn't even sleep.

He was thinking about the elf.

Aragorn heard of them. Only their dangers and such as and so forth. He thought-no. He knew that elves wouldn't be that much of bad. For they were also living beings, they would not just attack without any reasons.

Aragorn kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself however, as he knew his father would especially be furious had he ever find out.

It was one thing Aragorn never liked doing.

The sun was barely up when Aragorn left the bed. Slowly tiptoeing, he passed his father's chamber and quickly made his way to the woods. He carried a small leather satchel, filled with more kingsfoil,-courtesy of the barn nearby, as the people of Laketown used the weed as the animals' food-, fresh bandages, a small knife, a roll of thread and a decent needle he managed to snag, also a flask of water.

He breathed in relief whence he saw the elf was still where he had left him off. Yet he nearly dropped his satchel whence he saw the elf's eyes were open, glazed.

No.

Aragorn scrambled to the elf, his hands trembled.

He did not kill him. No. He healed him how- What had he done. He had left him-

Aragorn froze his thoughts however, as he saw the elf's chest slowly, but steadily, rose up and down.

With shaking hands, Aragorn felt around the elf's neck. He felt the skin warm under his fingers, and that a pulse was beating.

He jumped when the elf suddenly gasped for air. He blinked his eyes, and all of the sudden Aragorn could see clear sky blue, filled with emotions.

There were pain, worry... confusion..

"Are you alright, sir elf? I need to change your bandages, and mayhap stitch your wounds, too." Aragorn spoke in a whisper, he did not want to make the elf uncomfortable.

The elf cough in response, hoarse, as Aragorn began to work on his shoulder.

He bit his lip whence he saw the red seeping through the makeshift bandages. Slowly, Aragorn peeled it off. The elf elicited a groan as he did so.

Aragorn would've empty his stomach, had he had his dinner or breakfast.

The wounds were worse than he could imagine. It darkened, with suspicious black tar oozing out from it. The wounds were jagged and messy. And many skins and flesh were ripped off.

Aragorn was not sure as to what he could do.

He could not stitch it. Well he could, but only the minors. The larger one however, he really would have no choice but to only bandage it up. He could only hope it had not hit anything vital.

Aragorn took out the thread and needle. He saw the elf gave him a side look as the thread was colored pink. Yet how could he blame him? It was the only thread Aragorn could find.

He began to stitch up the lower and upper parts of the wounds, as they were a lot more able to be sewn back together. Occasionally, Aragorn would say words of comfort whenever the elf groaned or winced. He did it as painless and neat as he could, remembering those times when his mother taught him to sew his blankets.

Aragorn dabbed the wounds with a clean wet cloth after. Then he pressed his thumb to the elf's dry lips, before slowly dropping small trinkle of water into his mouth.

The elf drank as if there was no tomorrow. Aragorn had to stop the elf from drinking too fast, for it would damage any internal injuries he had.

He set the flask aside before taking out the kingsfoils. Grounding them once more in his teeth before pressing it to the elf's wounds. Aragorn settled few more leaves ontop of the wounds. Lastly, he wrapped the bandages, not too tight nor loose, around the elf's shoulder, then his sides.

"I dass carnen?" The elf whispered hoarsely, as Aragorn was busy washing his bloodied hands.

"Aye?" Aragorn called, turning to the elf.

"Forgive me, for I do not know what of you are speaking."

There was a pause, then the elf spoke,

"Is... it done..?" The strange lisp was heard once again.

"Aye. Your wounds are quite bad, sir. I really do wish you will not move much as it will worsen them." Aragorn said.

"I-..." The elf rose his head, a strained expression on his face before he laid back and sighed,

"I thank you."

"Twas my pleasure, sir." Aragorn said.

Silence hung between them as Aragorn began to pack his things. Putting them carefully in his satchel, as they were mostly 'borrowed' things. He really did not want to explain if anything was broken or lost.

His ears perked up when he heard the elf whispered, barely,

"Why saved me.."

"Because, sir, you are injured," Aragorn tapped the edge of the elf's mouth lightly. He oblidgingly opened it, letting Aragorn pour more water.

"And I am raised in a house full of healers. I know better than to let a man die." Aragorn paused for a moment, then continued,

"Or elf. Dwarf. What ever."

The elf let out what could be said as a strained chuckle.

"You are a strange boy."

"So I'm told."
It was true. Aragorn was often told that he was a strange boy, whom liked to spend times with healers, yet also very adventurous. He had a knack of breaking rules, also.

"You do not know.. of my kin.. then? Rumours.."

"My father often said twas not good to only believe in rumours. We must see to it ourselves, he would say. Twas by then we could judge."

"I-.." The elf trailed off. He had a look of disbelief and shock.

"...Many thanks." He said, in the end.

"You are most welcome." Aragorn said without a falter, smiling.

X

Ppbfffttt.

Elf ish saved aye cheers mate.

Translations ;
- Ego = Go away! (in a rude way)
- I dass carnen = Is it done

...Uh.. I dunno what to put here. But uhhhhhhhhhhh-

Uhhhhhhh-

I hate school. I need sleep. Okay enjoy and leave a review, I'll just...... *scoots away slowly*

Bye.