Dammit, Legolas, go away.

"Gimli?" Legolas asked from where he sat at the base of a tree.

Aragorn shrugged. "He'll live." He knelt before Legolas. "Let me tend to your wounds."

Legolas reached out and dragged two fingers down Aragorn's face. "You are covered in blood."

"None of it is mine." Aragorn tipped Legolas' face up into the light. He carefully swiped a damp cloth over the cut on Legolas' forehead.

"It bleeds, but it is not serious."

"Mmm. Perhaps." Aragorn cleaned the cut carefully. He probed around the edges of it.

Legolas sighed and let his eyes fall closed.

"This needs to be stitched." Aragorn rummaged through his things and found a needle and thread. He thrust the needle into the fire to clean it. When it was cool again, he threaded it and held the edges of the cut together as he stitched carefully.

Legolas didn't make a sound.

"It will scar," Aragorn said, "but you'll heal." He bandaged it carefully and started to stand, but Legolas caught his wrist.

"Now you." He took the cloth from Aragorn and slowly, carefully cleaned the blood from Aragorn's face.

When he was done, Aragorn took the cloth back and turned away from him. "I thank you."

Legolas caught his wrist again. "Please. Stay with me a while."

Aragorn's breath hitched, but he did not leave.