Chapter 1- Say it isn't so

This is my first story and English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes and be nice! Please, please review, criticism also welcomed or I will never know how to improve. This story is based on request for a friend and is set in FOTR just after Gandalf falls off of the bridge in the mines of Moria.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Momentarily distracted by his grief, Legolas did not see the Goblin arrow until it was too late. He was left with but a split second to shove the ranger roughly aside before the arrow embedded itself deep in the Sindar's chest, inches from his heart. His eyes widened with shock as his hands grasped at the thick black shaft protruded from his chest, rising and falling with each jagged breath. Time seemed to stand still as he watched the blood blossom through his tunic beneath his fingers. "Ai, Elbereth" he breathed disbelievingly as he held up a hand, slick with his own blood, his fair features tense with pain as he fought the darkness and fell to his knees. "Legolas!'' Raw fear and disbelief tore into the ranger's heart as he scrambled to his feet and caught the elf, lifting the lithe body into his arms and ran tore from the mine and into the blinding sunlight after the others, heart hammering loudly in his ears.

Boromir, the Dwarf and the Halflings stood blinded by their grief at the loss of the grey wizard, the halflings' sobs filling the welcoming fresh air.

Aragorn dropped to his knees on the jagged grey rocks, gently laying the Elf down , desperate to find his friend still breathing. Hot nausea rose to his chest when he saw the thick shaft of the

arrow embedded inches from the Elf's heart. His silver tunic was sodden with blood, blossoming around the shaft and pooling onto the grey rocks beneath him. Legolas' eyes were tightly closed against the pain, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The ranger placed a rough hand against his cold cheek " Legolas, Mellonin? Can you hear me?" he asked almost pleadingly. Mind racing, he sucked in a breath when he found his pulse barely there, weak and erratic from the loss of blood. He had to act quickly.'Strider!" Sam called, the others suddenly made aware of the two and ran toward them, momentarily forgetting their grief. The ranger sat back on his heels with a sickened sigh, not meeting their eyes. "The Gandalf..goblin arrow..I didn't see it.." he explained numbly, trailing off and leaving the others to piece it together. Feeling his own heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest, he bit back his desperation, realizing that prince's only chance lay in his hands. For the first time in his life he had to stay strong for his friend and manage to hold himself together for both of them.

Mind racing over his knowledge of healing, he hurriedly drew a dagger from one of his boots, cut through the elf's cloak and tunic and tore it into shreds.

"What are you doing Mr Strider?" Sam asked quietly, the others looked on in horrified silence, tears streaming silently down Frodo's cheeks. "We must not linger" The ranger replied, not looking up as he slid the torn strips of fabric under the elf. "By nightfall these hills will be crawling with orcs. We must get him to safety, the woods of Lorien." He momentarily shut his eyes, silently thanking the Valar that Legolas was unconscious for what he was about to do. He braced a hand against the elf's heaving chest and snapped the thick arrow shaft in one stong movement, throwing it aside with disgust. Smelling the acrid smell left on his fingers, he realized with dread that it had been coated in poison. There was nothing he could do about that now, all he could do was try to slow the bleeding and carry him to safety. He wound the makeshift bandaged hurriedly over his chest, and pulling tightly as the elf jolted forward from the pain. Sweat beaded at his temples as he gasped weakly, "Estel..'' he murmered softly, blue eyes glazed over with pain. "Peace Mellonin, you will soon be safe, be strong" the ranger managed, trying to keep his voice steady. Wrapping the elf in his cloak and gently lifting his light body into his arms he turned towards the others, 'We must make haste" He stated gruffly, turning from them and starting off over the uneven mountain rocks. Boromir bit back an automatic response. The Hobbits were overcome by their grief and needed some time, but Aragorn was right, if the elf stood any chance of surviving they needed to keep moving. Urging on Merry and Pippin, Frodo and Sam followed, Gimli following behind, his worry hidden beneath his stern features. The fellowship set off in silence behind the ranger who strode off across the hills, going as fast as he could without making the elf's bleeding worse. With adrenaline pulsing through his veins he glanced down at the injured Sindar in his arms, "Fight Legolas, I will not lose you" he murmered urgently through clenched teeth, his eyes stinging from tears that he refused to shed. With each heartbeat his oldest friend was edging closer to death.