Wolven
By Mieren
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Foul things came across the lands of Middle Earth as Mordor grew in strength. The elves had started sending out hunting parties to combat the strange creatures churned out, often finding themselves in strange alliances in the heat of battle. Though the Noldor and Silvan elves hated each other as a rule, they fought side by side all the same when faced with parties of orcs and goblins. It was after one of those battles that the Peredhil twins met Legolas for the first time.
"Nice move," Elladan called to the blond.
"Pardon?" Legolas asked.
"This thing," Elrohir answered, prodding a furry corpse with his toe. The thing looked much like the cross between a warg and an orc, ugly beyond description. "We were talking. We loved how you stopped its jaws with your arm."
Legolas' eyes flashed with ire. "As I recall, it was you that dropped your sword," he snarled at Elladan. A bit of uncertainty flitted across his features and his cerulean eyes flickered between the twins, not sure which was which. The twins laughed at him.
"Elladan," one of the twins offered, introducing himself.
"Elrohir," the other said. He took pity on the blond after a moment. "I was the one that dropped my sword… when I was hit by a charging warg. Thank you, by the way." Realizing belatedly that he was being teased, Legolas had the decency to blush a bit.
"Were you hurt?" the recently identified Elladan asked. Legolas studied his profile avidly for a moment in an attempt to tell the two apart. His eyes lit up a bit when he saw that Elladan had a slight smattering of freckles where Elrohir did not.
"Just a scratch," Legolas said, shrugging off the injury. His expression indicated that he didn't intend to even have it looked at by resident healers that traveled with them.
"Could we see?" Elrohir asked, reaching presumptuously for the blonde's arm. Legolas dodged out of his reach.
"It's nothing," he insisted.
Elladan managed to snag his wrist where his twin had failed, smirking at Legolas' indignant expression. "If it's nothing, prove it."
"This is not necessary," Legolas began.
"Then you won't mind," Elladan continued. His efforts earned him a dirty look that he steadfastly ignored.
Sniffing dismissively, Legolas allowed him to pull his sleeve back, revealing a nasty set of puncture marks from a set of equally frightening set of fangs. The twins crowded him in an effort to get a look at the injury, both frowning at what they saw. The injured area was already reddening and swelling. Exchanging silver glances, the twins made a decision without the permission of their blond patient. Legolas looked fairly trapped when they closed in on him from either side, dropping their arms across his shoulders in a deceptively friendly manner. They ignored his protests and frog-marched him to their horses where they had a few basic medical supplies.
Legolas tolerated their handling of his arm, surprised that they were fairly competent in cleaning the bite mark out. After watching them playfully poke at each other while trying to bind the lacerations, he finally gave in to the vague mirth he was feeling. Apparently the stories of the twins' playful attitude towards everyone and everything hadn't been exaggerated. He was a little fearful that the tales of their exploits and constant pranks might be accurate as well. If that were the case, he pitied Elrond greatly. He'd be surprised if the older elf hadn't ripped his hair out.
The Peredhil twins confirmed his suspicions when they wrapped his arm in gauze, topping the wound with an intricate bow. Legolas snorted.
"Is that necessary?" he asked wryly.
"Of course not," Elladan said, smiling. "But it's so stylish."
Legolas shook his head, amused. He changed the topic to a more relevant one. "We'll burn the corpses and move on. Night won't reach us for another few hours and I'd like to camp far from the pyres."
"We could start back toward Imladris. 'Tis but a week's ride if we hurry," Elrohir queried.
"The hunt, at least for my company, is scheduled for another two months," Legolas said. "I'm afraid I cannot accompany you back yet."
"We can hardly bring our father to you," Elladan said.
"His services are not necessary," Legolas said, getting flustered. When the twins looked like they were going to press their luck, he continued. "Are you going to drag me across country and bother your father for a scratch? One that will likely be healed before we arrive?"
"Fine," Elrohir capitulated. "But don't come crying to us when your arm falls off."
"It's not going to fall off," the blond said dryly.
"It's swollen and obviously infected," Elladan said, arching one eyebrow.
"Elves cannot get sick," Legolas sighed.
"Can get poisoned, though," Elladan all too graciously pointed out.
"By getting bitten?" Legolas asked incredulously.
"What? Never seen a snake?"
"It wasn't a reptile, Elladan!" the archer said in frustration.
The two of them would have started a small war between themselves had not another elf interrupted their imminent argument. A blond Mirkwood elf approached them, looking a little disconcerted.
"There's something you should see, Prince Legolas," he said. He glanced briefly at the bow on the prince's arm before chancing a look at the twins, knowing who was to blame. Legolas simply nodded and followed him, surprised to see the Peredhil twins following him out of curiosity.
Silently, the guard pointed towards one of the corpses that the other elves had been stacking into a pile to burn. This one had been left to the side, the guards not relishing the thought of touching it. The three approached it warily. The twisted creature that Legolas had slain to protect Elrohir laid in the bloodied soil, writhing slightly even though dead. The three stared at it in fascination as it twisted and twitched, not realizing for several seconds that its form was altering before their very gazes. Fur receded slowly, giving way to dark skin as bones cracked and reformed. It was starting to reach the appearance of a very large orc. The three remained in silence until Elrohir whistled.
"If it weren't already dead, I'd say that looked painful," Elrohir said wryly.
"I've never seen the like," Legolas said, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He glanced at the twins. "Have you ever come upon anything like that?"
"Of course," Elladan answered. "We just love looking surprised." The remark got him a flat look from the blond and he chuckled unrepentantly. Legolas finally gave in and grinned a bit, unable to keep up his indifference towards the unruly twins.
Shaking his head in mute amusement, Legolas left their company to help his men pile the bodies to be burned. Prince or no, he was not above physical labor. He was a bit shocked when the twins accompanied him, staying by his side as he lugged the heavy carcasses around, doing their best to prevent him from using his injured arm. After an hour of hard labor, he decided that the friendly pair was a welcome addition. When he suggested that their two parties form an alliance in their patrols, he wasn't surprised when the twins readily accepted.
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Legolas performed an amazing display of flexibility in battle, arching and twisting midair to avoid an orc's blade. His maneuver saved him from being permanently crippled from a severed spine, but he was still grazed by the blade, leaving a deep wound along his shoulder blades. He countered by ducking into a roll, sticking his hands out and kicking upwards with both feet, catching the orc in the knees with his heels. When the creature collapsed, he finished up by coming to his feet and decapitating the thing. He turned a few circles before determining that the battle was all but over, the elves having slaughtered the mass of orcs they had discovered.
"You still in one piece?" Elrohir asked, jogging up to the blond archer.
"I'll live," Legolas replied, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to see how badly he had been hit. The gash running across his back stung fiercely.
"You're bleeding," Elrohir remarked pointedly, eyeing his blood-soaked shirt. The half-elf was worried about the blond that had quickly become his friend in the two days they had been in one another's company. Unfortunately for the elves in both groups, none of the three seemed to have a calming effect on the others and they had spent most of their time between battles pulling pranks on each other and just about everyone else in sight.
"Are you okay?" Elladan asked, joining the two. Like his twin, his eyes trailed over Legolas' ruined shirt, trying to gauge the underlying wound.
"I'm fine," Legolas answered reflexively. "But if you want to see my back, go for it."
Knowing perfectly the futility of protesting, Legolas acquiesced to the attentions of the Peredhil twins. He submissively allowed himself to be pushed into a sitting position while one of the two raven-haired brothers pulled his shirt up around his neck to expose his bloodied back. One of the two whistled. He suspected it was Elrohir.
"Damn," he commented. "You are one hairy elf."
"What?" Legolas objected. "I am not!"
"What do you call this?" the other supported, running one finger down Legolas' spine, ruffling a strip of fine golden hair. He jerked almost convulsively at the strange sensation, instinctively pulling away from the odd feeling. He clapped one hand to his back to still the weird tingling, freezing at what his fingers contacted. His eyes glazed over slightly.
"Legolas?" a concerned voice asked.
The archer blinked at his name, not having realized that he'd phased out until then. The voice sounded worried and he looked back at the twins with a vaguely horrified expression.
"By the Valor, what has happened?" Legolas asked, his fingers curling almost automatically into the thick golden hair that followed the length of his spine. He hurriedly pulled his shirt back down from his neck, concealing the sight of his back from the troops. He turned almost panicked eyes on the twins, his worries not lying with his injury.
"It was that orc," Elladan said, thoughts turning immediately to the strange creature Legolas had slain. His suspicions had proved accurate. It had been diseased and the blond prince was infected.
"Give me your arm," Elrohir said, taking the appendage up without asking and pushing his sleeve back. In twin half circles matching the bite, which had healed by the end of the first day, thick fur ran across Legolas' skin. Elrohir ran his fingers through it, not missing the flinch that followed the action. He didn't bother asking how long it had looked like that. The shock on the archer's face made it clear that he hadn't known it was there. Always ready for battle, the warriors often slept fully dressed.
"We're going to Imladris," Elladan said in a tone that brooked no argument. Indeed, he received none, the prince looking like he had just received a death sentence. He draped his cloak over Legolas' shoulders and strode to the nearest elf. "Thendar, you are in charge of both companies. My brother, Legolas and I are leaving immediately."
Thendar looked to Legolas for confirmation that he was indeed being given the Mirkwood elves. Legolas nodded, willing to let his forces stay with the Imladris company. They fought well together and he trusted the twins to choose someone competent to lead them. The brunette elf nodded and strode off, helpfully assisting the three departing elves ready their horses. The twins had matching chestnut stallions. The blond would be riding a dappled gray mare from a Mirkwood archer, his own raven black steed having been slain the prior day. The dark-haired elves vaulted onto the bare backs with ease, exchanging worried looks when the gray steed flattened her ears to her head, pulling away from Legolas a little, though she didn't prevent him from mounting. They hoped that she was just being a little skittish because he was a different rider.
The three horses were off like shots, carrying their charges at breakneck speeds through the thick trees. The elves rode low, flattened to the sweaty backs to reduce air resistance as well as protect themselves from scratching tree branches. They continued with the deadly pace, riding the horses into the ground. They finally had to call a halt when Elladan's steed began to falter, nearly tripping on a root. The day had long fallen to night and the horses were having difficulty seeing to run.
"We'll stop here for a few hours," Elladan said, knowing that the horses at least needed the chance to rest. "We'll start again as soon as the sun rises."
"How are you doing?" Elrohir asked Legolas, who had dismounted a little stiffly. They tried to convince themselves that he was just tired from fighting and the long ride. The blond grunted as he settled down, covering himself with his cloak. His eyes reflected the meager starlight, glinting golden in the blackness as elfin eyes were never meant to do. Elrohir noted the change but didn't comment on it.
"Stiff," Legolas answered honestly. He curled on his side with his back to the twins, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Helpless to do anything for him, they went to sleep, needing the rest.
They were awoken when the first rays of light crept over the horizon by a startled yell. Elladan and Elrohir were on their feet with their swords drawn before they could even identify what they had heard. They spotted Legolas half sitting, blue eyes looking terrified. Since he was still mostly hidden by the cloak, they weren't sure what was bothering him. Sheathing their blades, they went over to him, trying to pull the cloak back and receiving minor resistance. They understood what had shocked the blond prince immediately since his hands were curled around it so tightly that it was almost painful. It was a tail. Only a foot long and covered with short fur, but it was still a tail. Having sensed something awry, he had pushed down his leggings just far enough to get to the new appendage, crying out when he had realized what it was.
"Lets get going," Elrohir said, pulling his hands free and pulling him to his feet. He eyed the thickening hair on the archer's arms and the hint of claws tipping his fingers.
The horses seemed to like Legolas less than ever. The chestnut males shied away from him and nickered, calming at a few words from Elladan. The dappled gray mare was having none of it and she threw her head back, half rearing. The twins waved him back and tried to calm her down. Thinking that it might be easier, they sent Legolas towards one of the chestnut stallions, but the horse shied away from him too. The situation became even more complicated when the twins directed him to the third horse the blond reached for it in frustration. The animal, already worked up from watching the other two animals panic, reared and screamed, kicking Legolas with his front hooves and running from the small campground with no intention of stopping at the orders from the twins. Trying to soften the blow to his chest, he rolled backwards, doing a quick somersault and ending up in a crouch. Elrohir helped him back to his feet.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Legolas said reflexively, rubbing one hand across his chest where a fairly good-sized bruise was forming. "How are we going to get to Imladris if our mounts won't tolerate me?"
Silver gazes exchanged a look and Elladan mounted the gray mare. "I'll ride ahead and find our father. You two do your best to follow. We'll meet you as soon as possible." Spinning the mare, he thundered off, riding her hard enough that she would likely drop dead from exhaustion by the time he got home.
Not liking the fact he had to resort to such base measures, Elrohir pulled a bridle out of his pack and fitted it to the stallion's head. He mounted a little roughly and tried to guide him over to Legolas. He hesitated to obey, but finally gave in to the elf he served. Ignoring the flinch his touch earned, Legolas swung up behind Elrohir, nearly losing his seat when the stallion jumped a bit. He wrapped his arms around Elrohir's waist to secure himself in case the chestnut male tried to buck him again.
"I would prefer you in front of me," Elrohir said, worried that Legolas wasn't in good enough shape to hold on.
"No," Legolas said, refusing the request to swap positions.
"And why not?" he insisted. There was such a delay that he wondered if Legolas was going to answer. The response was mumbled softly with such embarrassment that he couldn't help but capitulate.
"Tail…"
He squeezed Legolas' forearm comfortingly, turning his steed towards the trail and kicking him into a hard gallop. "You'll be fine. Elrond is one of the most skilled healers in all Middle Earth."
Carrying a second passenger, the horse slowed greatly from the pace it had managed the previous day. Unhanding the reigns for a few seconds, he rifled through his packs and came up with a piece of lembas, pressing it into Legolas' palm. It was never comfortable eating atop a galloping horse, but he didn't want to take time out of their travels. He began eating a piece of elfish bread as well, grimacing at the evils of the rather bland, monotonous meal.
After a few minutes, he passed his water flask back to Legolas, the archer taking a few quick gulps and passing it back. Elrohir took a drink, not realizing just then what he had done to himself. He was so used to sharing food with his twin that he had unwittingly condemned himself to Legolas' fate without even realizing it.
They rode for the better part of the second day, slowing to a walk on occasion when it became apparent that the stallion could no longer maintain his backbreaking pace. For some time, Legolas slumped against Elrohir's back, slumbering uneasily atop the running horse. They had another boring meal of lembas and water while riding, stopping only when the sun went down, and only then to allow their mount to rest. The horse was close to collapsing where he stood.
In the meager light left, Elrohir attempted to examine the Mirkwood prince, the blond only reluctantly accepting his tentative touch. During the day, his tail had lengthened to the point that the tip could touch the ground while he stood erect, which was getting hard to manage. His legs had altered in structure slightly, thighs and calves shortening while his feet stretched, creating more of a digigrade appearance. The fur running down his spine had fanned out to cover more of his back, a mirroring steak of gold appearing on his lower abdomen. His teeth had lengthened to form considerable fangs out of his canines, and even the other teeth were starting to draw to points. His ears had grown larger and more triangular, fur peppering the backs of the pointed auricles.
For his part, Legolas looked terrified. He avoided looking directly at Elrohir, opting to stare at his altered hands, the digits growing shorter and thicker as the days passed. Elrohir could understand his unease. Even he shuddered at the thought. The only options that he could readily see from the course of infection were morbid at best. An undignified death or living all eternity as a monster. Neither outcome was appealing.
The night was cold enough that under normal conditions, they would have lain beside one another and stacked their cloaks to share heat. Their very nature led them to be resistant to the elements, but even immortals could feel the sting of winter if it grew cold enough. Legolas pulled away, curling up under his cloak and Elrohir didn't pursue him, understanding that the last thing he really wanted was contact. They slept uneasily in uncomfortable silence.
In the morning, they rose stiffly, Elrohir approaching the horse first to calm it. The steed made a rumbling noise and flattened his ears to his head, shying from his touch slightly. The raven-haired elf assumed that he had spent too much time around Legolas and picked up a little of his scent. He vaulted easily to its back, offering one hand to the blond to help him up. Legolas tried to mount behind him again, but found that he could no longer sit on the beast comfortably, his hips hinged incorrectly for proper riding. A bit hesitantly, he allowed Elrohir to pull him in front, turning him to ride sidesaddle.
The horse turned its head immediately, attempting to bite Legolas' leg. They had to pull rather savagely on the reigns to dissuade the beast from hurting him. Annoyed at his own horse's behavior, Elrohir kicked him sharply in the flank to get him moving. Though tired and stiff from the hard running, carrying two passengers no less, he started a weary canter and holding the pace for a few minutes until his muscles loosened. Only then did he allow his passengers to force him into a gallop.
Elrohir kept Legolas balanced with one arm around his waist, trying not to stare and make the blond even more uncomfortable. Legolas kept the hood of his cloak up and the Peredhil twin didn't have the heart to tell him that it enhanced the obviousness of the golden reflection in his eyes. It didn't even serve to hide the light fuzz that was creeping across his cheeks and down his neck or the lengthening of his jaw.
The ride was uneventful for a few hours, even in conversation. Noticing that his voice was getting hoarse and that he had developed a lisp from his new jaws, Legolas refused to speak. The silence was broken only by his breathing. A small rasping wheeze in the morning turned into pained gasps by early afternoon. Elrohir sighed, refusing to accept a headshake or the phrase 'I'm fine' any longer.
"What's wrong?" he asked, tone firm. If he answered in the same way he had been for the last few hours, Elrohir swore that he was going to kink his newly acquired tail.
"I can't breathe," Legolas admitted.
Elrohir resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the statement of the blatantly obvious, pulling the horse to a halt. The stallion stood with legs splayed, head drooping and chest heaving. Elrohir slipped his free arm into Legolas' shirt, apologizing softly when he jumped. He frowned at the sheer amount of fur his fingers encountered, but stayed on task, pressing his fingers against his abdomen. Feeling the flutter of the abdomen, he moved his fingers higher, running his palm curiously over the prominent sternum.
"Your bone structure is changing," Elrohir pronounced, pressing his hand against the blonde's chest. "Your ribcage is becoming more triangular." There was nothing he could do for the Mirkwood prince and they both knew it.
Smacking the horse's flank, he started them moving again, wishing he had access to a fresh mount. Even if the animal could keep up the pace, they were still at least three days from Imladris. With the speed Legolas was falling in to the strange illness, they would never reach Elrond in time. By the dejected way Legolas slumped against him, Elrohir knew that he suspected the same. He spurred the horse to go faster, ignoring the lather building up on his coat. They didn't stop until a few hours after nightfall when the horse collapsed under the strain, chest heaving.
Elrohir grew very worried when Legolas jumped down, landing on all fours and walking a little ways from the horse before lying down. He made no move to keep his appearance hidden, not even to cover his long bushy tail with his cloak. He slid down to the earth, walking over to his friend's side and squatting down beside him, trying to get a look at him past the cloak.
"Legolas?" he asked softly. Blue eyes looked at him from a wolf's face, glinting golden when they caught the moonlight. No trace of elfish intelligence remained in the gaze and Elrohir withdrew a little, understanding that the race against time was over. They hadn't made it. His suspicions were confirmed when Legolas swiveled his head to pull at the clothes he was still wearing with his teeth.
Heaving a sigh, he started back to his horse to retrieve his sword, hating himself for what he knew he had to do. Legolas wasn't an elf anymore and the disease he carried was too dangerous to allow it to be released into Middle Earth. In five days, it had reduced an immortal to an animal. Two days incubation and three of painful, humiliating transformation that robbed the infected of both body and mind.
The stallion reared when he neared, lashing out at him with his hooves with the last of his strength. Elrohir yanked his head down by the reigns angrily, snatching his sword from where it was hanging from the packs. He spun quickly when he heard rustling underbrush, glimpsing the tip of a golden tail as Legolas vanished into the darkness.
So he's not as far gone as I thought, Elrohir mused darkly. He had planned to creep up on him and finish him off cleanly, but the short scuffle with the horse had alerted him to run before he could manage it.
Sighing, Elrohir hobbled the horse and climbed a nearby tree to sleep in the branches for the night. He knew that he had no chance at all to actually find the blond wolf in the dark and didn't like the thought of sleeping on the ground if Legolas wasn't in his right mind. In the morning, he'd start for Imladris to recruit help in hunting down the renegade transformed elf.
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To Be Continued…
I have far more than this typed. The speed in which I post it depends on the reviews I get.
