Wow. I was not really expecting so much feedback. Thanks to all for your kind words! It was really encouraging. I have personal notes at the end of this chapter for all of you.

We do a little overlap in this chapter. I wanted to show you the last scene through the perspective of the rest of the fellowship before we continue. I hope you do not find it too boring or repetitive.

Chapter #2 ~ What of Hope?

Aragorn was only vaguely aware of a flash of gold beside him before Legolas was racing back out onto the bridge. The ranger reached out, in a moment of panic, to try and stop the archer, but the elf's reflexes were too quick, and Legolas evaded his grasp with ease. Beside him, Frodo too lurched forward, screaming out Gandalf's name, but Boromir's strong arms encircled the smaller being, and held him back. Aragorn was once again struck motionless. It was as if time stood still.

Legolas's form was nothing more than a blur of deep green, brown and gold, even to the sharp and practised eyes of the ranger. The elf ran with such perfect precision and balance along the causeway, that Aragorn did not doubt for a moment that he was witnessing a feat that no human would have been capable of. Aragorn knew that it the archer was not able to catch Gandalf, then none here could, and so he waited with his breath caught in his throat for the final outcome to emerge.

"Fly you fools."

Even as hope faded though, the elf dove forwards, and Gandalf's figure did not descend into blackness. He had been saved, and Aragorn muttered a quick prayer of thanks. He watched as Legolas was dragged forwards under the extras weight, his eyes growing larger in alarm, the prayer dying flat upon his lips, as he realized not all was well yet.

They are both going to go over, he thought.

The ranger started to more forward, but felt himself detained by the iron fist of the dwarf. He snarled slightly in frustration, and tried to pry himself loose, but Gimli's grip was vice like in its strength, like manacles, and he found himself rooted to the spot.

"Gimli, I must..."

"No, Aragorn. You would not reach them in time, and look there," one stubby finger pointed not to the ledge of the bridge but to the opposite side, and as Aragorn's eyes pierced the gloom he too saw the growing numbers of Orcs, and the first few arrows being fired.

"Legolas! Arrows!" he called out, in an attempt to warn the seemingly heedless elf, but if the archer heard him, he gave no sign. Legolas did however seem to find something to hold onto, for he now lay, half on and half off the bridge, neither falling further, but certainly not reaching up to safety once again.

The moment seemed to teeter there before Gandalf's form dropped into the darkness.

"NOOOOO!" Frodo's chilling cry echoed into the chamber, vibrating off the walls and shattering what remained of the companies hope in one blazing second of realization. For a long moment none of the were capable of moving, so frozen were they all in their grief.

It was Legolas's movements that startled the rest of them back into action. As the blond elf scrambled to his feet and once again came charging back along the bridge, Boromir started to flee. "Aragorn!" he called out in warning, before he turned fully and ran down the tunnel, but the ranger remained unmoved by his words. Aragorn moved forward several steps in stead, in stunned disbelief, before starting to call to Legolas, who seemed to be slowing, perhaps as realization fully hit him as well.

Behind him Gimli herded the remaining hobbits to safety, and Aragorn mentally thanked the dwarf for seeing to the little people in this time of crisis. The elf tore past him a second later, and, although Aragorn knew he should turn and follow, he found himself unable to do so.

Not Gandalf. Please anything but this.

"Estel!" the soft and melodious tone of the elf's voice reached him, breaking him from his trance. Seizing the renewed sense of self to the fullest, the ranger turned abruptly and followed his companions.

So it was that Aragorn was the last to break from the confines and evil that was Moria. The human saw little joy in the bright world around him, and instead continued forward with determination. He was several steps ahead of everyone else before he realized that he alone moved forward. Turning back he was struck again with the realization that Gandalf was no longer among them. The tears of his friends spoke volumes, and Aragorn felt his own throat constrict in grief but, swallowing thickly, he forbade himself the chance to mourn.

Not here. Not now.

"Legolas," he heard himself say, though even to himself the words sounded hollow and forced, "get them up!" In truth he wanted to try and stir his elven friend from the stricken look of despair that marred his handsome features. Aragorn could only imagine the grief and guilt that must be consuming the elf at this moment. Do not blame yourself Legolas, blame the rest of us. For we did nothing. Nothing. You at least tried. He wished he could form words and sentences to console and reassure the elf, but he felt too lost in his own sorrow to try and ease that of those around him.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped, and his voice quivered for a moment. Aragorn twisted his head away from Legolas to meet the cold, accusing look of his fellow human.

Boromir, please understand and be strong for me.

Aragorn tried to say that much through their eye contact, but Boromir's eyes remained like sheets of ice, and no understanding passed between them.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien," Aragorn stated decidedly. The company needed strength and leadership and, although Aragorn harbored deep concerns about his ability to fill such a role, none of the others seemed to be able to for fill it either, so the duty fell to him.

Boromir's eyes darkened with displeasure, but if he was going to argue the matter further with the ranger he was cut off by Pippin's small wail of despair, "Why did you drop him?"

Aragorn would have done anything in his power to have kept those words from being uttered. He already knew how Legolas' mind would be interpreting the events of the past hour, and the ranger had no doubt that the elf would find a way to make the entire episode into something of his making, and to have Pippin say that now! Aragorn wanted to shout. To take Legolas by the shoulders and shake him into comprehending that nothing more could have been done, but his own voice was too constricted to speak. He looked at his elven friend with concern.

"Legolas?" he managed to splutter out. He sounded so emotionless that even he was shocked. That was not what he had wanted to say. The elf looked at him, and their eyes met. Elven eyes are more beautiful than humans could ever comprehend. They held such depth, and from their iris's shone light, and from their pupil's, came life. Legolas usually kept his schooled, so that his features and eyes would betray nothing of what he in fact felt, but in this moment none of Legolas' barriers were held in place, and Aragorn was subjected to the full brunt of the elf's pain. Such utter sorrow. Such complete hopelessness. Such self loathing.

"Legolas!?" As this second plea emerged past the ranger's lips the elf broke the contact between them, and looked down. His hands had come to rest in front of him, and they dripped red with blood.

Aragorn cursed himself for not realizing sooner. The elf was injured. The ranger quickly scanned the lithe figure before him, looking for the nature and seriousness of the wound, and soon saw the darkening clothing along the elf's left side. He was drenched in blood.

Legolas' blue eyes widened as he stared at his hands, before he once again looked up at the company. They all stood there for a moment, frozen, before Legolas' eyes fluttered closed and his body pitched forward.

Aragorn caught him before he hit the ground.

Carefully lying the prone body down, he started too unfasten the quiver of arrows from Legolas' back, along with the elf's travelling pack, before throwing them aside. He then carefully undid the belt at Legolas' hips before, as gently as possible, peeling back the bloodied clothing to examine the wound.

The alarming amount of blood loss was explained quickly. The hole in the side of his friend was gaping. An arrow had obviously pierced his companion's body, and Aragorn was fairly certain that vital internal organs had also been damaged. The elf was bleeding from the inside. With growing alarm Aragorn ripped open his pack, pulling from it one of his shirts. Tearing off a large portion of the fabric he quickly pressed it to the wound, to try and stanch the bleeding.

Quickly scanning the faces of his companions in an attempt to gauge which of them was the most stable, the most capable of assisting him, he motioned for the dwarf to join him on the ground. Although there was a constant string of bad blood, and sometimes cruel remarks, between the elf and dwarf, Aragorn did not doubt that in this, Gimli would do all in his power to help.

"Gimli, hold this cloth to the wound. We must slow the bleeding. Press hard, and do not, for the love of Valar, stop. Do you understand?" The stoic dwarf nodded his head once to show he understood.

Aragorn then quickly rooted through his pack until he pulled his herb kit from it. Carefully opening it, he grabbed a few dried leaves from the pack, and started to grind them down into a paste on the rocks.

"Aragorn, I can hear Orcish voices on the air," Boromir stated quietly. He seemed torn between distracting the ranger from his vital task, and giving warning. "You were right," and the ranger realized how large a confession that was for Boromir to make, "we must move on, and quickly."

"But Legolas..." the words trailed off, and Aragorn knew dread. He too could hear the foul words of the black tongue floating and echoing down the cold stone, through the exit of the tunnels. They would be overrun soon.

He quickly gathered up the paste. Opening up the elf mouth he saw that blood had pooled up there, and quickly rolled the elf onto his good side, letting it drain. Then carefully he reached in and rubbed the paste thickly over the elf's tongue. He then hurriedly gathered up the last of his athelas leaves and, chewing slowly, he reached over to Gimli and lifted the cloth before sprinkling the healing herb into the open wound. He normally would have liked to have simmered the concoction before getting Legolas to drink it, but fate it seemed was not going to allow them that sort of luxury. It would have to be a rush job until they reached safety.

Carefully taking over Gimli's job once again, he lifted the light figure into his arms. "Gimli, carry Legolas' things, and the rest of you, follow me," he instructed in a steady voice, despite the turmoil of his soul.

The company ran onwards, putting as much distance between this place of nightmares and themselves as their bodies would physically allow.

Review Notes:

Cheysuli – Thanks for your words. I hate to tell you this but I am a rather slow updater. I wanted to finish this story before I started posting but then I thought I would just see if you guys liked the idea and style or not and since you do… well I will try to keep getting chapters up here as quickly as possible. I really am enjoying your story!

Artemisa – I want to thank you also for reviewing. English is your second language!? I cannot believe that! It seemed almost perfect in your story! I could never write in French (which is my second language) the way you were writing in English. Anyway, great work and I hope you continue to enjoy my piece.

Athelas – Yeah, if I was a nicer person and didn't delight in tormenting my (Tolkien's) characters I probably could have had Gandalf live… but that would rob you of all that angst and where would the fun in that be, lol. Thanks for reviewing!

Goma-Ryu – Another huge thank-you is extended! I went to do that names of middle earth thing and typed in my full name… it said I would have been a "drunken eagle" which I find just right down hilarious. Also, when I didn't include my middle name, it said I was a "confused wizard" which is also pretty good and I think both describe me fairly well. Thanks for sharing that little site with your readers.

Scramble125 – Oh! Thanks so much for sharing that tid-bit of LOTR info with me. *drums fingers on desk nervously* That kind of ruins my whole idea doesn't it. Well, I will work around it somehow. I am glad that you are taken with this story and I hope you continue to review.

evil spapple pie – Glad you approve of all! I was sort of worried about things like punctuation and spelling but no one has complained so far so I guess it wasn't that bad, lol. I loved you Harry Potter story. I thought mine was going to be a tearjerker but yours… *sniff*… was a killer. Great work!

devilburns – Yeah, that was a pretty cruel place to leave my readers hanging (evil laughter can be heard from the author at this point in time… Mwhahahahah!) but do not worry. I am sure I can come up with plenty more cliffhangers that are even worst then that last one. *cheeky grin*

Everyone, there is a site which you can find by reading Goma_Ryu's story which allows you to type in your own name and then have the computer tell you the equivalent names for you in Middle Earth. If I had been born in Tolkien's world then I would have been a "Drunken Eagle" (lol). My elven name would have been "Buleeernil", my hobbit name would have been "Goodchild Gardener from Waymeet", and my dwarven name would have been "Troor Ironear". Anyway, I thought it was pretty interesting so I thought I would share.