We Are the Fellowship Of the Black Hawk…
Legolas stared out that the dusty world that enveloped them. It was almost night…and they were still on the ground and in the hot zone. They were supposed to have been out in a half hour, but it had turned into a desperate, day long battle for life…
"Bloom, you all right?" It was Frodo Wood, the young yet smart newbie addition to their team, "That last rush was a doozy. I can take over here while you get something to drink."
"Thanks, Wood," Legolas smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder, appreciating the reprieve. He had been scanning the streets with his elven vision for so long, he thought his eyes would cross.
He made his way carefully through the rubble-filled hallways. Here and there, a discarded and forgotten gun lay, accompanied most often by a smear of blood, where the owner had been dragged to the makeshift infirmary.
"Legolas, how you doing? I just sent Wood to take over your position," Sergeant Aragorn Mortenson smirked slightly through the grime, "Course, you already know that."
"I would not be here if he was not there," Legolas grimaced as he pulled his ponytail out of his collar. A section of it was matted with blood, from an injury that he could not remember receiving.
"Hey, that looks pretty bad, Lego," Aragorn chuckled at the call-name that they had bestowed upon their friend, "Go get it checked out, then come back here for a drink."
"Yes, sir," Legolas sighed and clipped the safety on for his gun, then swung it over his shoulder and headed for the infirmary, which was very quiet. There were bodies of friends everywhere…
"Hey, Lego."
"Hey, Sam," He waved slightly at the powerful looking medical officer, "Sergeant sent me in here to get checked out."
"Something I missed?" He wiped his hands on an already grimy towel.
"Across the back. I guess that I got clipped in the last assault," He quickly pulled off his vest and overshirt, revealing the bloody, GI-issue t-shirt beneath. There was a long, but shallow, gash across his shoulder blades that only now began to sting.
"Yep, looks bad," Sam gestured to an empty chair, "Sit down. I'll have to clean it before I let you out of here."
While he cleaned and bandaged the injury, another person stepped into the room. It was Boromir 'Bob' Bean, the one man that had saved all their lives earlier that afternoon. It was a good thing that he could throw, otherwise that grenade would have ripped the entire team apart.
"Bob, thanks again for this afternoon," Sam said before Legolas could.
"I didn't come in here to be thanked," Bob chuckled, flexing his wrist, "I caught some shrapnel in the last rush. I was thinking that maybe I should get a couple of Band-Aids, ouhh?"
"Ouhh," Sam grinned and tossed him a small, waterproof package that held binding gauze and medical tape.
Once Sam had finished bandaging up Legolas' back, the tall, blonde haired elf slipped his overshirt and vest back on. He grabbed his gun, thanked the medic, and left the room. Sergeant Mortenson was waiting.
"All right, Lego, I know it, but these guys don't, so I'm going to explain why you're here," Aragorn turned to the second- and third-in command, "Bloom is a sniper, an assassin, which means that he is of not much use in here."
He glanced at the tall elf, then back at the two men, one known only as Butterbur and Haldir Parker, whom he had known only as long as this mission, "He will be at the head of the procession. When we move towards the crash point, we need to cover him as best we can."
"So, in other words, we need to book it to the crash point with this guy as our scout?" Butterbur grimaced.
"That's it in a nutshell," Aragorn confirmed.
"The Skinnies breathe so loud, it'll be hard not to shoot as we sneak by in the dark," Parker smirked slightly, "I'll throw up cover fire for Lego, and I think Rhys-Davies would be wiling to join me."
"Ha, ha! Of course!" The shorter, stockily built man grinned up at the men that seemed so much taller than he. Really, though, it was only a matter of several inches, "When do we leave?"
"Only the men that can run will go," Aragorn sighed, "The rest, like the men that have small injuries, will stay behind to protect the injured. The convoy will pick you up after the others, but they need reinforcements now. And we're going to send them to the crash point."
"Who all is going, sir?" Legolas asked.
"Astin, because they're definitely going to need a good medic, and we have Csokas here to help," Aragorn sighed, "Rhys-Davies, Parker, Wood, Astin, Boyd, Monaghan, Bean, Bloom, and I will go. Any suggestions?"
"I wish McKellen was here," Gimli Rhys-Davies grumbled, "He was a good leader."
"The higher-ups have him back at base," Legolas sighed, "We should get going. They need our help, now."
"All right, pack up, men," Aragorn clasped wrists with Csokas, who had been standing off to the side quietly, "Celeborn, you're in charge now. Take care of my men."
"There was never any doubt," Csokas' New Zealander accent was apparent in his voice, and his smirk seemed even more out of place. Aragorn patted Celeborn's shoulder with a smile, then went to round up his men.
Legolas called over a bored private and disappeared back to his old position, where Wood was still standing. He tapped the young man on the shoulder, "Wood, we're leaving for the crash site and you're coming with. Urban will take your place."
Eomer Urban nodded as he took Wood's place in the lookout post. Frodo and Legolas walked down the hallways slowly, as they had to in order to avoid drawing the Skinnies' attention to their shadows.
They joined up with Aragorn and the others, who were already gathered by the entrance to the crumbling building.
"His weapon is different from the rest of ours," Gimli mumbled as Legolas took position at the head of their group. They were waiting for Aragorn's command to move out. Boromir heard him.
"Go."
Aragorn's whisper sent Legolas trotting down the street, as quiet as a cat, his long-barreled rifle slung onto his shoulder, his sidearm in his hand. Parker and Bean followed closely behind, then Boyd and Monaghan, followed by Wood and Astin, and Mortenson and Rhys-Davies.
A couple of shots rang out, and Legolas dodged to the side. But the shots were not aimed at him. Instead, they pinged off the outside of an old Jeep, where a fire illuminated the human-like silhouette of twisted metal.
Breathing slowly, Legolas leaned around the corner and sighted his scope.
Legolas awoke with a start.
"Legolas? I have never before seen you sleep quite so heavily," Aragorn said, snapping a twig and tossing it gently into the fire, "Was your sleep restful?"
"I—I do not know," Legolas admitted, almost feeling the dust and grime still on his skin. He felt as though he could look down at his clothes and see a tan and brown uniform, "I could have sworn that I was holding a rifle, sighting the scope…"
"Rifle? Scope? What are these things?" Gimli grumbled from his slouch across the fire.
"I do not know," Legolas felt the strange—memories—fade. He sighed, "It matters not. I should take greater care in how deeply I sleep, for that dream was truly disturbing."
"Dreams fade," Gimli huffed, almost reminiscent.
"Sleep well, Lego."
Legolas nodded and lay back, only then realizing what Aragorn had called him.