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Merry woke to a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.
"Time to wake up, Merry."
"Mmm." He mumbled, stretching, and blinked open his heavy eyes. "Alright, Frodo."
His cousin smiled at him, and rose from his crouch. "Have you got Pippin?"
"Always." Merry managed a smile, and Sam flashed him a pleased look from where he was fiddling with a strap by his pack.
Frodo nodded gratefully. "Breakfast is nearly ready." He said, before turning towards Sam to help.
Merry eyed their twilight surroundings dubiously, but in the end just sighed. After nearly a fortnight of arguments, he'd given up on calling meals what they should be. He yawned, stretching, and finally rolled up.
Glancing at the sleeping Hobbit beside him, Merry smiled rather reflexively. Pippin was curled into his side, blonde curls a mess, face hidden in his elbow. "Time to wake up, Pip." He murmured, reaching out to shake Pippin's shoulder gently.
"Hmm." Pippin sighed, like every morning, and Merry settled in for an argument.
"Thank you, Mr Legolas." Sam flushed a ruddy pink, clearly still embarrassed by being handed his plate by an elf.
"You are welcome." Legolas smiled faintly, crouched next to the small campfire they were hiding beneath the trees. "Though I cannot claim to be your cook."
"Hasn't stopped you in the past." Aragorn murmured, glancing at the Elf with a small smile.
"Hmm." Legolas eyed the man for a moment, something playful in his expression. He murmured something softly in Elvish, that made Aragorn laugh quietly, and then smiled briefly around at the group. "Enjoy your meal." The Elf carefully didn't name which meal they were to enjoy, and flashed Merry an amused look when he snorted. "I will return soon." He shifted to his feet smoothly, barely a flicker of motion and he was standing, and Aragorn startled.
"Legolas, wait, take something with," Aragorn started to offer a plate, but the elf took two steps and jumped into a low hanging branch, and disappeared in seconds. "-you." He sighed, expression rather put-upon, and Merry gave him a sympathetic look.
He'd witnessed often Aragorn's attempts at feeding the Elf, and how frequently Legolas seemed to dismiss such a necessary thing.
"I'll take it off your hands, Strider," Pippin offered, hopefully, and the Ranger gave in, with a quick eye roll.
"Elves." Gimli muttered, with a soft huff, steadily getting through his own meal. "Can't be reasoned with."
Aragorn, quite obviously, hesitated. Perhaps he didn't want to agree, when the somewhat unpredictable animosity between Gimli and Legolas had at last begun to settle. "Well." He cast Pippin a small smile. "Nevermind."
"Nevermind." Pippin agreed, grinning, and generously pushed a piece of bread towards Frodo's plate. "Here, cousin, have some more."
"Thank you." Frodo smiled fondly, squeezing Pippin's wrist gently. "Did you sleep a bit better?"
"I should think so." Merry interjected, teasingly. "Given the storing."
"I don't snore!" Pippin cried, too loudly, and Gandalf looked up from his pipe sharply.
"Lower your voice Master Peregrin." The Wizard intoned, softly. "The wilds are no place for your yelling and play."
Pippin flushed, and Merry bit his lip, reaching out to gently squeeze his cousin's wrist.
"These cloud-berries are lovely." Frodo said, hastily, though he kept his voice low. "Lucky to find them, in such a place." The quiet trees around them felt close, though the small clearing they'd found to camp in had been fairly well sheltered by their boughs.
"Hmm, lucky." Gimli agreed, tossing a handful into his mouth.
"Legolas found them." Aragorn said, a smile playing about his mouth.
Gimli froze.
Merry ducked his head, glancing at Pippin to exchange an amused look. Beyond him, Frodo and Sam were doing the same.
"Kind of him." Boromir contributed quietly, from his spot opposite the well-hidden fire, dark eyes amused.
"Humph." Gimli muttered, and went back to his breakfast.
Merry watched subtly though, and smiled to himself, as the Dwarf finished every single one of his berries.
Legolas frowned, faintly. The trees were whispering of a strange wind, coming down from the East. The branch he crouched upon creaked, warningly, and he shifted his balance slightly. Something, just on the edge of his hearing, bothered him. The bubbling of the winding stream disguised much of the noise of the forest, though the birds were strangely quiet, this morning. He'd filled their water skins before dawn, from a lower point, much closer to their camp.
Backtracking as he had, covering their path from the previous day through the trees, had taken Legolas barely any time at all. But now, at the edge of the range of a potential whistled warning, Legolas hesitated.
Something was drawing him East. Something catching at his attention, something strange.
The tree he was in shivered, though its leaves moved not at all.
Strange, strange, strange- it hummed, and Legolas froze, searching to the very edge of his hearing and sight, without moving his head. His hood should shield his blonde hair from watching eyes, but it decreased his peripheral vision.
The wind brushed past his cheek, and something cold skittered down his spine. Like a feather, drawn across bare skin.
Legolas's hand drifted upwards, towards his quiver, bow strung and humming in his left hand. But he had no target.
There was nothing.
And eventually, caught up as he was in the low murmurs of the wood they'd sheltered in, he nearly startled at the low two-pitch whistle that rang out.
Query-location?
If someone were not paying close attention, they might assume the sound had come from an early woken Screech owl, that hunted these parts once the sun descended.
Aragorn would certainly want to get started, as the last wisps of sunlight disappeared into the encroaching shadows.
But Legolas still hesitated, glancing around again. He still felt as if he were being watched.
Query-location?
The Greenwood whistle came again, a little more urgency lancing through the two notes.
Legolas took three steps, landing silently in another tree, and crouched again. He would be no more than a shadow, from the ground. But he waited, every sense stretching outwards for six breathless heart beats; and eventually relaxed, when nothing moved. In the end, he could not bring himself to worry Aragorn for what was most likely a coming storm that the forest worried for.
Legolas pursed his lips, and whistled.
Clear-return.
The three climbing notes were only subtly different, but to a trained ear such as Aragorn's, their meaning should be clear.
As he half-expected, Aragorn didn't reply. A pair of Screech owls was believable, but a flock would not be.
Legolas paused, casting about once more, but there was still nothing; no footprints, no disturbed branches, no signs of company.
He slipped into a neighbouring tree, glanced over his shoulder once more, and extended his thoughts a little. The tree he'd left was settling already, unused as it was to Elvish presence, and the small copse he'd hidden in were murmuring again of the wind.
Only one, a rather young beech tree, still felt concerned.
But Legolas could not justify delaying to explore more, when he might be needed by their company. He slid his bow over his back, hand landing reassuringly on the hilt of his knife, before he slipped through the trees and retraced his careful steps South.
Legolas landed near-silently, and Aragorn looked up, sharply. "What happened?"
The rest of their company turned too, Gimli startling from where he'd clearly been about to lift his pack. The Hobbits looked rather shocked too, and Legolas realised that none of them had heard his short warning chirp indicating his imminent arrival, that Aragorn clearly had.
"There is no pursuit, I was simply delayed." Legolas replied, calmly. The Hobbits relaxed, and Boromir nodded once, firmly.
"Make ready." Aragorn ordered, with a quick gesture to the others. "We should make a start."
"Should be gone already." Gimli muttered, eyeing Legolas, but tonight he ignored it.
"Estel," he slipped into Silvan, as Aragorn moved calmly to his side. "There was something strange, along the path we travelled yesterday. Along our path," he hesitated, ensuring his expression was calm. "A presence."
"A presence?" Aragorn asked, lifting a curious eyebrow as if they discussed the weather, but his jaw was tight. "And yet you said there was no pursuit?"
"There was nothing." But yet he hesitated. "But the trees spoke of strange things, four leagues West."
Aragorn frowned. "You went so far?"
Legolas opened his mouth, about to argue the need, when Gandalf appeared. For such a heavy cloak that dragged a little on the ground, he could move nearly as silently as an Elf.
"What is the matter?" Gandalf asked, in lilting Silvan, moving to Aragorn's other side. "Legolas?"
Legolas hesitated again, eyeing the trees that surrounded them.
"Something strange, four leagues West." Aragorn interceded, with a frown. "Scout ahead, and then return to ensure we are not followed."
"Of course." Legolas smiled suddenly. "The Hobbits are watching."
Aragorn chuckled softly, clapping Legolas's shoulder. "Well done, my friend."
"At least Silvan does not worry the carrier, hmm." Gandalf smiled faintly, squeezing Legolas's arm. "Be on guard, watcher."
Legolas nodded, still keeping his expression relaxed and open. "I'll return soon." He could feel eyes watching them, the distrust from both Gimli and Boromir that dragged at him more heavily, the further the went.
"Go no further than a whistle." Aragorn switched back to Westron, clearly just as aware of their observers. "Two leagues." He corrected, and Legolas lifted his eyes to the heavens briefly.
"Very well." He agreed, though, but glanced over his shoulder at the footsteps of an uncertain Hobbit.
Samwise Gamgee hesitated, at the edge of their little gathering. "Ah," he flushed. "Forgive me, Mr Strider, Mr Gandalf," Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just," he held out a small cloth-wrapped bundle. "Mr Legolas, I thought, if you were going scouting again-"
Legolas smiled slowly, stepping forward to accept the gift. "My thanks, Master Samwise."
"Oh." Sam flushed a deeper red. "Please call me Sam, Mr Legolas."
"When you call me Legolas, my friend." Legolas smiled at the other Hobbits, who hurried forward to prompt Sam back into motion, clearly struck dumb at being so called such a thing. "I will see you in a few hours."
"Safe hunting." Aragorn wished, and Legolas nodded, tucking the berries away safely.
"Safe travels." And he glanced at Gandalf once, who nodded, and slipped back towards the trees.
"Oh." Sam sighed in wonder, watching Legolas take a single step, and go flying back into the trees.
"That was kind of you, Sam." Frodo praised, gently.
"Imagine not eating breakfast." Pippin said, wonderingly. "And doing all that walking that he's doing."
"Legolas hardly ever walks." Aragorn said, coming to stand beside them. "He is a Wood-elf."
Frodo smiled fondly, but Sam stared up at Aragorn with wide eyes. "Does he fly everywhere then, like he did then?" He whispered, flushing again when he heard a snort from Gimli.
"Not quite." Aragorn smiled. "He runs, Master Samwise." He gestured. "Come, now. It is past time we were gone."
The whistle came several hours later, from close by.
They all startled, even the Hobbits, familiar enough now with the noises of the forest that such a whistle stood out to them all.
Hold position-
Aragorn raised a hand, and Boromir stopped the Hobbits with a gesture. Bill dragged Sam for a further two steps, before the sweet pony stopped too, ears pricking.
"Was that Legolas?" Pippin asked, at a fairly low volume, but there came immediate soft hushing from his cousins.
"Hush now, Pip." Frodo whispered, far more effectively. "Let's just wait and see."
Holding-, Aragorn confirmed, a low whisper of a whistle. If Legolas was so close, he would almost certainly hear it.
The wind had picked up a little, blowing cold from the East, and Aragorn stretched out his every sense, searching for danger.
"Should we stay on the path?" Boromir asked softly, moving to Aragorn's side with a creak of leather. "Or seek shelter?"
To call the small deer trail they were currently on a path was generous. "We wait." Aragorn murmured, loud enough to be heard by their tightly grouped company, but hopefully quietly enough that nobody outside their immediate bounds should hear. "Legolas will send word soon."
Urgent, enemies, East-
Aragorn swore beneath his breath, and whistled a rapid reply. Confirmed-enemies-East and then a separate, shorter order, Return, and turned to the hobbits. "Enemies come from the East. We must find somewhere defensible."
The Hobbits faces split with fear, eyes widening, but they made not a sound.
A whisper of air, and Legolas landed among them.
Pippin startled backwards with a soft cry, and Legolas raised his right hand, calmingly. "Hush." He murmured, quietly. "Forgive me." He glanced at Aragorn. "A group of eighteen orcs, archers all, from the East. Accompanied by near a dozen goblins."
Aragorn nodded, grimly, and there was the comforting sound of Gimli freeing his large war-axe from his back. "Where do we go?"
"There is a cave directly to the West of us," Legolas pointed sharply. "I suggest we hide the Hobbits in the cave, with three protecters," his eyes flicked to Gimli, Boromir, and Gandalf, before his gaze returned to Aragorn. "While we hunt."
"No." Gandalf stepped closer, gesturing Boromir to make a start. "You will both stay close."
"Come, Hobbits." Gimli ordered, and the Hobbits started off, heads turning sharply at every noise, Boromir leading the way and leading Bill along beside him at a quick trot.
Legolas hesitated, clearly straining to the East, to hunt those that hunted them, to follow the instincts honed by a millenia of destroying such darkness. "Of course." He agreed in the end, though his tone was short. "We must make haste, whatever the plan."
"Scout ahead." Aragorn ordered, and Legolas nodded, disappearing into the trees. "He is more use out there." He reminded, glancing sharply at the wizard.
But there was a strange expression on Gandalf's face, as he stared at the gap in the branches where Legolas had disappeared.
"What is the matter?" Aragorn checked, reaching out to grasp Gandalf's wrist. The Hobbits were nearly out of sight, ahead of them on the path.
"Nothing." Gandalf shook his head, as if shaking water from his forehead. "Only that something in me says Legolas must stay close, tonight."
Aragorn felt a low thrill of concern, and shook his head to loose the fear. "Come, then."
"Get them to the back." Legolas ordered, gesturing. "I have checked it already for enemies and traps."
Gimli hesitated at the entry to the low overhang, but gestured. "Go, Hobbits." He whispered, gruffly. "Keep your voices low, for they certainly shall echo."
Legolas watched the four of them go, Bill nervously stepping after a gently coaxing Sam. "Master Dwarf," he dipped his chin slightly. "You are the best option for close fighting, to mind the Hobbits here."
Gimli gave him a startled look, before nodding in return. "I will guard them, Master Elf."
"Fair hunting." Legolas wished, in the way of his people.
"Fair shooting, Master Elf." Gimli replied, and Legolas blinked in slight shock. The Dwarf's eyes flashed with amusement, before he turned away. "Lets see about this stone we find ourselves in then, master Hobbits."
Boromir moved to the entry, eyeing the stone that ran barely a hand width's above his head. "A good find." He allowed in rare praise, and unsheathed his sword, having already released his shield from his back.
Legolas slipped out of the cave with relief, stopping beside a restless Aragorn. "Do you hear them?" He asked, but the man shook his head, no. "I will position myself above," Legolas gestured to the tall beech trees just to the right of the mouth of the cave. "A small river lies beyond, which should protect our back."
"I wonder at such a fortuitous finding as this." Gandalf commented, eyeing the shelter with relief. "Go about your business, Master Elf, but do not go far. I will remain near the cave." He moved towards the grey rocks that guarded the far side of the cave, hand on the hilt of his great sword.
"I will not stray." Legolas agreed, looking after the Wizard with a small frown, and Aragorn clapped his shoulder.
"He likes the company together." Aragorn reminded him, and drew his hood up. "I will find ground on this side. Wargs?"
"None that I saw." Legolas shook his head. "But they may come."
"They are hunting us." Aragorn said, softly, eyeing the dark sky grimly.
"They are." Legolas felt his frustration flare. "I should have sensed them, before they drew so close."
"You were scouting ahead." Aragorn chided, tilting his head. "And had already scouted behind."
Legolas hesitated, before eventually inclining his chin in acknowledgement. They clasped hands briefly. "Fair hunting." He murmured.
"Fair shooting, my friend."
Legolas picked off every bow-using orc he could see.
Gandalf and Aragorn engaged on the ground when they were forced to do so, and Legolas shifted several trees to the right, when the orcs began to realise that all the arrows came from a single direction.
There was a yell, and Boromir dashed from the shadows to engage the goblin that had been sneaking towards the mouth of the cave.
It dropped with an arrow in its neck before he could, but the next three he killed with smooth sweeping slashes of his long-sword.
Legolas dropped an orc that was getting too close to Aragorn, and then jerked back, the split-moment hiss of an arrow all the warning he had before an arrow flew past his face.
He'd been spotted.
Or they'd gotten lucky.
Legolas moved swiftly into a neighbouring branch, because it did not really matter which, if he was hit.
He returned his focus to the battle, and mouthed a vicious oath.
There were more than eighteen.
Legolas did not know where they'd come from.
They all bore bows.
Legolas sent a half a dozen arrows into the orcs that harried three of their company, dropping bodies with each one.
The leader emerged at last from the trees, yelling and spitting, and Aragorn spun towards him, even as Legolas sent an arrow into its eye socket.
"Alba!" Came a dark snarl from an orc next to the felled leader, pointing, and Legolas's eyes widened as several orcs spun towards his tree. Another shriek of Black speech, and a storm of a six orcs split off, racing across the small space towards his tree.
He had no time to think, sending arrow after arrow towards them on instinct alone, when Boromir abruptly cried out.
The Gondorion staggered, and Aragorn turned desperately, cutting a path towards him, but Legolas intervened first. He ignored his own attackers, as they reached the shelter of the trees with wild shrieks, and killed the two orcs harrying the Gondorion.
Boromir stared around wildly as his attackers dropped, and then his head lifted, turning with remarkable accuracy towards where Legolas was. "Mind yourself!" He cried, and Legolas darted from his tree barely a moment before a hail of arrows split the air he'd occupied, moments before.
"Legolas!" Aragorn cried, but Legolas just sent an arrow into the throat of the goblin running towards the cave, and the man turned back to the fight at the confirmation he yet lived.
Their enemies had fallen by the dozen, and Legolas swept forward with fresh energy; Aragorn and Boromir fell back towards the cave, where Gimli hesitated with a vicious grip on his axe. It was not the Dwarfish way, to stay back from battle. But he was the last defence of the Hobbits
"Trade with me." Gimli called, clearly making the correct decision to swap as Boromir willingly fell back.
Legolas felt relief when the Dwarf charged into the fray with a familiar fierce cry.
Aragorn bled from a shallow slice on his wrist, and Gimli guarded his back as they retreated together towards the cave. Their enemies had been nearly spent, until they weren't.
"Mithrandrir!" Legolas warned, and sent one of his many small knives into the eye socket of a goblin. "More come!"
There was a cry from the cave, and Legolas ran.
Boromir was blocking the advancing orcs with swift and decisive blocks, but he had been wounded, a similar slice to the one Aragorn had suffered.
"Mr Boromir!" Cried a voice, and there was the yell of a fierce but terrified Hobbit, as Merry rushed forward to defend the Gondorion.
"Gimli!" He had no time to use his title. "The Hobbits," Legolas cried, and the Dwarf spun, eyes widening, darting towards the cave.
"Move!"
Legolas lunged, spearing his long knives through the last orc standing, and he spun, searching for more enemies. Boromir and Gimli panted behind him, and Aragorn and Gandalf stood at the front of the cave, both breathing hard too. They'd all returned, at Legolas's cry.
As Legolas spun, he spotted barely a flicker of movement, from the edge of the treeline. His bow was back in his hand, an arrow notched and flying, before he exhaled.
"You're bleeding, Boromir!" Cried a panicked voice. "Here, let me help!"
A flash of movement in the sky, and he heard hurried Hobbit footsteps, emerging from the safety of the cave. He fired a second shot within a heartbeat, knocking the orc's arrow from its path, but was too late for the orc's next shot he had not predicted.
Legolas had no time to do anything except lunge forward, dragging Merry's shoulder back, and turning his head.
The arrow speared him through his left shoulder, and he fell.
He fell.
"Mr Legolas?!"
"Legolas!"
Legolas rolled off the Hobbit he had likely near-flattened, in his haste. They were within cover. He had fallen within the cave, clearly on top of Merry. "Forgive me, Merry." he panted, left arm hanging limply as he drew himself painfully onto his knees.
The hobbit rolled onto his back, and stared up with wide eyes. "Legolas," he whispered. "I think you've got an arrow, through your shoulder."
"So I do." Legolas exhaled, as smoothly as he could, and found his balance on his knees. He avoided looking at the very tip of the arrow-head, emerging grotesquely from his jerkin. "Will you fetch up my bow please, Merry?" He'd dropped it, when his left hand had ceased to work.
"Oh, Legolas." Merry clutched his own pale-cheeks with clearly shaking hands. "You've an, it's, oh," he looked nearly ill. "Strider-Gandalf-come-quick!" The yell was nearly a shriek, and then the other three Hobbits were surrounding Legolas, and Frodo was there, cupping Legolas's neck.
"Oh, Legolas," Frodo exhaled, and bit his lip. "Stay nice and still, there. Merry," he shot his cousin a quick look. "Get Strider's bag, from Bill."
The pony had been silent, for the entire fight. A well-trained beast indeed, Legolas thought, dizzily.
"What is the matter?" Cried a voice, and Legolas blinked, sinking back onto his heels as his legs gave way a little. "Is someone hurt?" It was the Dwarf.
"It is Legolas!" Pippin cried, sounding near tears. "He's got an arrow in his back!"
"Well." Gimli appeared, eyeing Legolas's shoulder with a grimace. "That is not where it should be." He caught Legolas's good shoulder with a firm hand. "Steady now, Master Elf."
Legolas exhaled another breath, which could have been a laugh, if he'd had the energy. "My apologies," he murmured, and closed his eyes a brief moment. "Is everyone else well?"
"Aragorn and Gandalf went after the one you shot at, and to check the surrounds." Gimli confirmed what Legolas had already assumed. "Boromir guards us. But our enemies are dead."
"He is dead, already." Legolas said, eyes still closed. The pain was heady, and his head throbbed in time with his shoulder. "The last one, on the tree-line."
"A fine shot, I am certain." Gimli murmured. "Do you wish to stay sitting as you are?" It was strangely gentle.
"Yes." Legolas managed, and opened his eyes. Four very pale Hobbits gazed at him, and Gimli hovered just to his right, expression grim.
When had he begun to be able to read the Dwarf's expressions? Legolas was not sure.
The heat radiated outwards, down his back, and his left hand remained limp in his lap.
"Stay still, Legolas." Frodo murmured, and shuffled forward to dab at his forehead gently with a damp handkerchief. It cooled some of the heat away, some of the dust, and stickiness, that came from battle. "Strider will look after you."
"Tis not the first arrow," Legolas had to stop, to breathe, and Gimli crouched at his side, bracing him a little more steadily. "He has retrieved-" he panted a little. "From me." He managed to finish, and Frodo gave him an anxious smile.
"Well," he grimaced. "That's rather horrifying," Legolas's lip curled up, faintly. "But reassuring, perhaps." Frodo hurried on, smiling gently. "And thank you," he reached out to squeeze Legolas's right hand, gently. "For Merry."
"Yes." Merry whispered, still looking horrified. "Thank you. I'm so sorry."
"Of course." Legolas murmured, and closed his eyes again. "The others?" He asked again, frustrated that his back was to the action. They were only a metre or two inside the cave. But his senses were straining out, but though he could hear hurried footsteps, he could not quite discern where everyone was.
"Are well, and they will come soon." Gimli confirmed, softly. "Eyes open, Master Elf." A firm tap, on his right shoulder.
Legolas managed it, blinking dully ahead, and breathed through the pain. There were low murmurings from the Hobbits, and Pippin had begun scrounging for dry pieces of wood in the back of the cave, and Legolas breathed.
"You bleed a fair amount, Master Elf." Gimli said, eventually. "Forgive me, but I must put some pressure around the wound."
"Aye." Legolas agreed, dizzily, and Gimli gestured.
"Come here, Merry. Keep him steady."
And Merry was there, bracing his right arm.
"Well done, Legolas." The blonde Hobbit smiled rather weakly, blue eyes strangely mature with fear. "Just stay there, Gimli will stop the bleeding, and Strider will get it out, soon."
Legolas dipped his chin faintly, but he was rapidly losing the energy to speak. His back felt very wet. He was beginning to feel weak.
"I need to remove your quiver, Master Elf," Gimli was crouching in front of him, and Legolas blinked. "With your permission."
Legolas inclined his head a fraction, swaying forward before he caught himself, and Gimli glanced at the hovering Hobbits sharply. "Pippin, go to Boromir, have him call Strider back if it is safe to do so."
"'L be scouting." Legolas managed, hoping he'd managed Westron.
"We can scout later." Gimli muttered gruffly, but successfully found the quiver's buckle, and removed Legolas's quiver and belt with gentle movements.
The pain radiated out a little more hotly, and Legolas exhaled roughly, as the very slight tug on his jerkin caught at the arrow.
"Steady." Merry whispered, and Frodo leaned in, wiping Legolas's face again.
"Easy, Legolas." He murmured, gently.
"You're doing awfully well, Legolas." Merry encouraged. "If it were me," he winced. "Well, I'd be making an awful fuss."
"I'm sure that isn't true, Mr Merry." Sam contributed, sounding a little shaky, though the small smile he managed seemed real. "You broke your arm falling that once, in town, and I didn't hear a single yelp pass your lips."
"Well, a broken arm is a bit different to an arrow through an arm." Merry argued, though the grip on Legolas's arm didn't move. "Don't you think, Legolas?"
Legolas blinked a few times, realising he was breathing rather hard. "Hmm." He swallowed. "Not so different as-" he jerked forward from the sudden pressure on his back, before forcing himself to freeze, eyes slamming shut.
"I should have warned you, forgive me." Gimli murmured. "Steady now, Master Elf, do not swoon."
"Tis not my first arrow." Legolas snapped, irritation beating back the pain, and opened his eyes to see the Hobbits exchanging quick looks. "You irk me on purpose." He realised, and then inhaled sharply as the pressure increased.
"I thought it might keep you awake." Gimli admitted. "Aragorn will come soon."
"He will be cross with me." Legolas mused, dully, and Frodo squeezed his wrist.
"Keep your eyes open, Legolas."
"Yes," Legolas opened his eyes, blinking. "Forgive me."
"Don't worry." Merry reassured him, though sounded anxious, and peered worriedly around Legolas. "Where is Strider?" He hissed, a moment later, and Legolas stared blankly at Frodo's hand, clenching a blood stained handkerchief. Did he have a wound on his head he was unaware of?
Perhaps that explained why his head was throbbing, so badly.
It wasn't long before his vision slipped sideways, and then there were several soft cries, but warm hands caught him, bracing him vaguely upright, and soon enough again after that a very familiar hand cupped his face.
Legolas relaxed. "Estel." He breathed, and there was a low hum.
"I'm here." Aragorn murmured. "As you are, Master Dwarf. Lay out a bedroll, Pippin, and get that fire going, Sam, send Boromir for more wood."
"Yes, Mr Strider!" and "Yes, Strider!" sounded immediately.
"Stay awake, Legolas." Aragorn ordered, a little more sharply, and Legolas opened his eyes tiredly. "Start to gather out my equipment for me, Frodo, from the second pocket."
"Yes, Strider."
"I will fetch more wood momentarily, but we need to move on soon." Boromir said, from somewhere closer to the entry to the cave. "This carrion will attract more evil."
"We need to treat our injured, first." Aragorn said firmly, and Legolas silently watched the healer release his left wrist guard and discard it gently at his side. "Stay still." Aragorn ordered, and examined the barely protruding point with a muttered oath. "Barbed." He confirmed, and Legolas closed his eyes, tiredly.
"Just get it out, Estel." He murmured, and there was a soft squeeze at his neck, gentle confirmation.
"Calhadrön is going to kill me, dead." Aragorn murmured, above him, and Legolas smiled faintly. Hands were guiding him backwards. He nearly lost his balance, but something solid appeared at his back, and Legolas was able to relax a little more. "Let me look at you."
"Aye." Legolas agreed, with a sigh, eyes at half-mast as he watched Aragorn hurriedly open the kit that Frodo was holding out. "Calhadrön will not blame you."
"Your brother always blames me." Aragorn muttered, and shot Legolas a small smile. "As you well know."
"Hmm." Legolas hummed, smiling faintly. But it faded all too quickly as Aragorn ordered Gimli's hands away, swallowing back a wave of nausea as the bolt shifted. But the exam was quick, and it wasn't long before the steady pressure returned.
"It avoided your chest." Aragorn said, with obvious relief.
"Hmm." Legolas agreed, eyes closing. "You may live yet, Ranger."
"Foolish elf." Aragorn muttered, but it was fondly. "Calhadrön will be riding me down within the sennite."
"Maybe." Legolas inhaled a little more roughly. His right hand was growing numb now, too. "Estel." It was a request.
"You need to take some poppy, first."
Legolas blinked to find Aragorn kneeling in front of him, holding out a mug. The water steamed, and he blinked a few times. How long had it been since Aragorn ordered a fire? "No." He murmured. He was still sat upright, though he leaned against something firm.
Something that breathed.
Ah, Legolas grimaced, realising. The Dwarf.
"Legolas." Aragorn was crouched in front of him, cupping his face. "Focus." It was firm.
"I am here." Legolas muttered, blinking heavily. "I will make no noise."
"I will not do this with you in total agony." Aragorn replied, sharply. "Drink."
"And I will be entirely useless, as well as," he had to stop, and catch his breath, as something shifted in his shoulder. "As well as a burden," Legolas hissed, gritting his teeth. "If they return?"
Aragorn's jaw twitched, and he hesitated. "A sip." He bargained, after a moment. "Not enough for your to sleep, I swear."
"Just fetch it out, Estel." Legolas frowned faintly. "I, I feel," he felt dizzy, and could not continue to argue.
"Legolas?" Aragorn tapped his cheek, expression firm. "One sip, now." And Legolas could not fight it, as the mug was brought to his lips. It was bitter, but he took a single sip, and the second when Aragorn kept the mug tilted.
It was withdrawn, and Legolas shot Aragorn an irritated look, but imagined it lacked any true force.
"Thank you." Aragorn said, with obvious relief.
Legolas's eyes flicked to the right, as Gandalf knelt beside him. "What is all this, hmm?" He cupped Legolas's neck, gently. A soft breath, and a sense of warmth imbued Legolas's chest, strengthening his heart beat, calming its racing beat.
Legolas blinked gratefully, lip twitching up.
And then Gandalf was withdrawing.
Time kept passing in strange jumps, and skips.
"-get you lying on your side, Legolas." Aragorn was saying, and there was painful movement, but strong arms, and he was stretched out on his right side, facing the cave mouth.
"Thank you." He murmured.
"You're welcome." Frodo patted his right hand, laying in front of his face, gently. "You need to stay still, Legolas."
"He is bleeding too much." Aragorn cursed above him. "This is some wickedness, something on the bolt."
"Gingseng." Legolas agreed, and there was a quick squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement. Air brushed his bare back, and he did not know when Aragorn had cut his shirt from him. It felt strange, to be so exposed, in front of so many eyes.
"Did you hear him, Aragorn?" Frodo asked anxiously. "Legolas said gingseng."
"An uncommon poison, this side of the Misty Mountains." Aragorn sounded irritated, which meant of course, that he was concerned.
"No doubt he is familiar with such things, coming from the Wood."
It was the Dwarf that had spoken, with an unfamiliar tone of respect in his voice.
"True enough." Aragorn muttered. "He has been shot too many times to count."
"Calhadrön-" Legolas started, and then trailed off. His head was lax on something soft, some jerkin or another. He had intended to say, Calhadrön keeps count, but his head was spinning.
"Legolas?" Aragorn was crouched above him, and Legolas blinked at him. "Do you feel the effects of the poppy?"
"Hmm." Legolas sighed. "A little."
"You must be silent." Aragorn reminded him, softly, and then there were hands at his shoulder. "I will remove the head and shaft, and pull the bolt through."
"Yes." Legolas agreed, and shifted his right hand a little, searchingly. He could almost- a warm hand, small but strong, grasped his.
"Brace him." Aragorn ordered, and Legolas opened his eyes.
Aragorn was knelt at his waist, leaning over his left shoulder, instruments in his hand. Someone braced him at his back, and a small hand grasped his.
Legolas turned his head very slightly, dizzy from the blood loss and the herbs, and bit the collar of the shirt they'd thankfully not entirely removed from his right shoulder.
Aragorn cut over the shaft of the arrow, and Legolas closed his eyes.
Calhadrön cupped his face, gently, with such gentle hands they barely seemed to brush his skin. "What have you gotten yourself into now, little brother?"
"Are they dead?" Legolas tried to scramble up, but something kept him pinned to the tree he was sheltering in. Had been. It was confusing. Something had him pinned, through his shoulder.
"Stay still." Calhadrön soothed. "Benedríen will come soon."
"Benedríen?" Legolas frowned, feverishly. "But I thought, I thought," his head spun.
"Just listen." His eldest brother soothed, gently. "Rest now," the low song began. "Follow footprints by the river, to sweet paths, and gentle waters." His eldest brother's voice kept him sane, holding him there, until his company arrived.
Benedríen swept into the tree, and cried out at the sight of him. "Legolas!" He turned, desperately. "Fetch the healer!" And then he was there, hands replacing the soothing mirage of Calhadrön that smiled faintly, before fading away. "Legolas, focus on me!"
It was many days later, of fever, and poison, before Legolas realised that Calhadrön had never been there at all. That he had simply imagined his eldest brother, in a great time of need.
It was many days later again that he understood the truth, the power in the King's eldest son, when Calhadrön swept him up in an embrace, and whispered, "Did you like my song?"
"You're doing very well, Legolas-" Frodo's voice was high and nervous.
Legolas was in agony, despite the very faint distancing of his body, from the poppy.
But he lay still, and having released Frodo's hand when the pain had worsened, dug his fingers into his palm instead.
"Come away, Pippin." Boromir's voice was firm. "Come away and help me keep watch."
There was a low hum, from behind Legolas, that caught his attention. That drew his thoughts from the sawing agony in his shoulder.
A deep hum, with slow notes; a song of deep caverns and rich stone.
"We are nearly done, Master Elf." A reassuring voice, that spoke of better things. "Have you heard my tale of the strong forests, that have regrown on Erebor's leeward side?"
The Elf was rigid with pain, sweat dripping from his forehead and mingling with the bloody cut already there, but he made not a single sound.
Gimli kept him firmly on his side, telling simple stories of brighter things as he pinned Legolas against his knees, and Aragorn worked quickly.
It was a feat, though.
That Legolas stayed silent, in the face of such barbaric surgery.
"Easy." Aragorn murmured, but Legolas just nodded.
"I am fine." He murmured, and braced himself before he was gently pulled upright.
"That's remarkable, Mr Legolas." Sam commented, biting his lip in obvious pleasure.
"I have had very good care." Legolas said, inclining his head, once Aragorn settled him. But his healer ignored the exchange, scanning his face carefully. "I am well enough, Estel."
Aragorn hesitated, fingers landing gently at Legolas's neck to feel his pulse, before he sat back. "Against all odds." He smiled faintly, and Legolas felt his expression soften.
"Thank you, for your care." Legolas murmured, and Aragorn squeezed the back of his neck, gently.
"Will you manage walking, tonight?"
Legolas quirked his lip gratefully, at the gentle cover of the Silvan. All four Hobbits were sitting a few steps away, watching closely, and Gimli sat at the entrance to the cave, smoking quietly with Gandalf.
Boromir scouted.
"I will manage. If Bill might carry my pack, and quiver."
"I will carry your quiver." Aragorn replied, firmly. "But yes, Bill will certainly manage your small pack."
"We may have to leave one of Sam's pans behind." Legolas smiled faintly, softening more when Aragorn just watched him, fretfully. "Do not worry so."
"Your brother would not forgive me, if I worried less."
"Which one?" Legolas smiled, and Aragorn laughed, softly.
"Any of them." He shook his head, regretfully, as he slipped back into Westron. "At least let this mission be over, before they hear of this."
"Are you talking about Legolas's brother, again?" Merry asked, curiously.
"Yes." Aragorn glanced over his shoulder, with a small smile. "At how cross they will be, that Legolas came to harm, under my watch."
"I think you are under my watch." Legolas retorted, crisply. The four Hobbits laughed, as Legolas had intended, and he smiled at them fondly. "Tis the way of older brothers."
"Do you have more than one?" Pippin asked, with excitement.
"Five living." Legolas confirmed, leaning his head back against the wall tiredly.
Pippin's face broke with horror at the realisation, and Merry bit his lip, peering at Legolas sadly. "You had a brother that died?"
There was the sound of footsteps, and Legolas glanced up. Gimli had returned to his pack, but his head was tilted, and he clearly listened.
"Two." Legolas revealed, softly. His heart ached, and Aragorn clasped his wrist, gently.
"How sad." Frodo murmured, eyes wide and upset.
"Yes." Legolas agreed, just as softly.
"Did they die from-" Pippin twitched, at whichever elbow had clearly collided with his ribcage. Both Frodo and Merry could have been responsible, given the horrified look they were both casting their youngest member.
"They passed in battle." Legolas told him, softly. "One in the great war," his eyes flicked to Aragorn, the quiet sadness there, and away. "And the other," he inhaled through the grief, heavy but familiar, now. "In the Battle of the Five Armies."
Gimli looked up, and Legolas met his gaze, quietly.
Something, a little like understanding, passed between them.
"How terrible." Sam bit his lip, sadly. "I'm very sorry, Mr Legolas."
"Thank you, Sam." Legolas smiled at him, distantly. "I am very lucky with the brothers I still have, though."
"Will you tell us about them?"
Legolas glanced up, in surprise. Boromir, somehow, had escaped his hearing. He stood above Gimli, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You have a brother." Legolas remembered, and Boromir nodded, smiling very faintly.
"He is cleverer than I." Boromir admitted, and chose a rock to lean against. Gandalf had turned, still on watch, but head tilted towards the inside of the small cave they rested in. "And a far better shot."
"My brothers are better than me in all things." Legolas admitted, freely.
Aragorn snorted, softly. "Not at finding trouble." He teased, gently.
"No." Legolas smiled fondly. "Perhaps not that."
"They can best you at archery?"
Legolas glanced at Gimli in near-shock, and the Dwarf flushed a little, beneath his beard.
"Your tone of surprise is kind." He couldn't help but dig, a little, until Aragorn shot him a quelling look. "I am flattered." Legolas finished, more genuinely.
"Well." Gimli hesitated. "We all witnessed your work, last night."
Legolas paused, watching the Dwarf for a moment, and then tilted his head. "I can best my brothers at archery, it is true." He smiled faintly. "But I'm afraid that is all."
"That is something, though." Merry commented, leaning forward keenly. "Are they all older than you?"
"Yes."
"And the two brothers you lost," Frodo hesitated, but Legolas inclined his head, and in the end he continued on with a gentle tone, "Were they older too?"
"Yes." Legolas smiled again. "I like to tell them that our parents had to keep trying, until they had a son that could hit the bullseye."
The little cave broke with quiet laughter, though Pippin's giggles were hushed gently by his cousins.
"Who is the oldest?"
"Calhadrön." Legolas said, and then his gaze flicked away, to the entry of the cave. Where he could see just a flicker of sky, through the trees.
"What a wonderful name!" Sam exclaimed. "Like a hero from a story."
A gentle wind blew into the cave, carrying the scent of rain, and Legolas closed his eyes. He smiled. And for just a moment, he imagined his brother cupping his face, smiling, teasing.
A gentle hand landed on his good shoulder, and Legolas opened his eyes; Aragorn smiled across at him, gently, and with deep understanding.
"I always wanted a brother." Merry commented, suddenly, and Pippin shoved him.
"You basically have one!" He cried, and Legolas laughed softly, leaning a little against Aragorn's steady shoulder.
"I always wanted eight." He murmured, and Aragorn's lip curled up, though he kept watching the Hobbits.
"Lucky for you, then." Aragorn replied, softly, and squeezed his shoulder again, gently.