Return of the Ranger
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings. This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only, I'm not being paid for it, and I hope it amuses!
Ah, so you're finally home, are you?
Do you know how long I've been waiting? I've hardly had a decent night's sleep! I've worried about you all day long! I've agonized! I've prayed! I've asked Lady Galadriel to locate your whereabouts with her mirror!
Don't interrupt me while I'm ranting, Aragorn. And Legolas, you're getting blood on my new carpet.
The possibilities were endless! Anything could have happened to you! In fact, anything usually does happen to you! And the letter you wrote, the don't-worry-about-me-I'm-fine one, only added to my concern! And how did you expect to fool me with the I'm-fine-but-I-urgently-need-some-bandages letter? I'm an Elf-Lord! I'm not stupid!
Follow me to the infirmary, both of you. I am very disappointed by your behavior.
If he can't walk, then carry him, Aragorn! Honestly, isn't it obvious?
Now then, put him on that bed. You sit down here and give me an explanation. It had better be a good one too! I can tell that he did not trip, and that he did not catch a cold. Try something a bit more plausible. He got clobbered by orcs again, didn't he? And he was poisoned as well, right?
Aragorn, Thranduil is going to kill me! Do you think I enjoy telling him that his son is almost dead? I wish you would take responsibility for once.
Nonsense. Your wrist isn't broken, Estel; it's just sprained.
Of course I love you! You're my son! Stop looking so sad; it irritates me. Princes come first anyway. I'll stitch up that minor scratch later.
Oh, good, Erestor, there you are. Could you bring me my medical knife? It's in that drawer over there. Thank you.
Now, Aragorn, where were we? I remember, you were going to tell me how you and Legolas got hurt this time.
No, start at the beginning. Why were those men chasing you in the first place?
Aragorn, it's just blood. If you don't want to watch me perform surgery on Legolas, then don't look. Continue with the story.
Remember the time when you got captured by slavers? Didn't they use the same trick on you then? And remember the man who said he was a friend and turned out to be a spy? Don't you learn from your past mistakes?
Legolas! You're awake! How do you feel? How many fingers am I holding up?
No, I'm not holding up two fingers. Why don't you close your eyes for a while and think happy thoughts. Pray continue, Aragorn.
So you ran into a cave? What did I tell you about caves? They always collapse!
And that's how you broke four ribs and dislocated your shoulder? I don't believe you. People do not break that many ribs by simply falling off a horse.
You fell off a cliff? Thought so.
Legolas? Are you conscious?
Good. Perhaps you could tell me how you and Aragorn were captured by the orcs.
All right. I see it is time for my little lecture. I wrote it while the two of you were gone. It's titled 'Why You Should Not Get Captured by Orcs'.
'Getting captured by orcs is not convenient. For anyone. If you get captured by orcs, they will hurt you. Then people like me will have to heal you. Then you will have to lie around in bed while others make sure that you are comfortable and happy. Then you will get grumpy and throw something at my advisors. Then my advisors will be annoyed and threaten to move to Lothlorien. Then you will get up and go away and get captured by more orcs. You will get hurt again. You will come back to Imladris and beg for help. And I won't give you any!'
I am sick of simply being in your life to keep you alive and make you feel better. I am sick of binding up your wounds and bathing your fevered brows. I am sick of giving you advice that you refuse to heed! I am sick of boosting your languishing egos. I am sick having to tell you that I love you despite the fact that you are an adopted mortal. I am sick of having to write to Thranduil to say that his son is critically injured. I am sick of being worried! I am sick of being taken for granted!
Hold out your arm, Aragorn. I have to stitch it up.
Stop wincing. It can't be that bad. Here, bite this rag.
I'm sick of this whole silly set-up! I never get to have fun! I'm always the person you get to save, or who gets to heal you. Why don't I ever get to do some of the fancy sword moves I learned during the Last Alliance? Why?
Yes, I know fancy sword moves. No, I am not demonstrating them for you, Aragorn. You might hack your leg off.
Look at poor Glorfindel. He's a great Elf-Lord. He fights ringwraiths and battles other dangerous enemies. But you two are the ones who people love and adore! It's not fair.
There. Can you move your hand now, Aragorn?
Can you breathe again, Legolas?
Good. I am going to bed. And I'm locking you both in the infirmary. Don't even move. Don't fall out of bed. Don't accidentally knock over a candle and set the room on fire. Don't open the window, because a warg might get in. Don't talk to each other. Don't sing a sappy Mirkwood ditty. Don't get into trouble. Don't get kidnapped. Don't get murdered. Don't bother me.
What is it, Glorfindel? I'm tired. I hope this is important.
You have an urgent report?
What? Lord Celeborn has been abducted? Mirkwood is under invasion? There's a spy in Imladris sending messages to the Enemy?
Aragorn! Legolas! I need you for a moment!