A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to Anon for reviewing the last chapter! And now back to the story!
Disclaimer: I am a poor college student that owns nothing except for my hat.
Even the Leaves Fall
Chapter Three
Morning dawned bright and cheerily over the leaves of the mighty trees of the former Greenwood the Great. Legolas raised his eyes to greet the sun as it filtered down softly to warm his pale skin. He felt sadness threaten to overtake him for a moment when he realized that he would never again greet the sun with Faelion, but he quickly pushed his emotions aside as they would only cause distraction on his quite probably dangerous journey across the Misty Mountains to Imladris. There would be time to mourn later, after he had completed his duty and returned home to his family. With that he once more buried his sadness and placed a stern lock upon his emotions as he headed to the stables for the final preparations for the journey and then for the journey itself.
He checked his packs one last time before he led his stallion Tuillin out of his stall and outside the stable to meet with the two other seasoned elven warriors that were accompanying him to Imladris. He mounted his stallion as he caught sight of Inwë standing on the hill that led to the stable watching the preparations. He glanced from side-to-side to see that the others were ready to depart. He raised a hand in farewell, which was returned along with a small smile from Inwë, before beginning forward with a nod to his companions.
They rode wordlessly on the almost hidden paths that wound under the heavy, dark shadows under the heavy, dark shadows where the dense branches of the deep forest commonly known to outsiders as Mirkwood blocked out the rays of the sun. They kept a weathered eye out for bands of orcs and spiders as both were common outside the elven settlement. Over the course of a few days the trail remained quiet while the elves conversed little and rested only as often as their mounts needed passing from the forest to the open lands rising to meet the Misty Mountains. Their journey was in fact very quiet until they passed over the Misty Mountains.
On the Western face of the mountains they began to find traces of an orc band roaming the country side. The three elven warriors traveled even more carefully attempting to avoid the orcs as they knew they would not stand against many without aid, but trouble struck out of the surrounding darkness when they were little more than two days travel by horse outside the borders of Imladris. They had just stopped by a small stream to rest and water the horses as well as have a bite to eat when a black fletched arrow flew from across the stream to bury itself in Legolas's left shoulder. His grunt of pain alerted the other two, who immediately pulled out their bows and began to fire at the orcs that were coming into sight across the stream even through the deepening shadows.
Legolas winced inwardly as he pulled one of his long, silver knives out of its sheath. "This is not going to be pleasant," he though to himself as he watched his two companions continued to fire at the oncoming orcs that were falling closer and closer as their sheer numbers overwhelmed the two bowmen. He braced himself for the fight as he brought the knife up in defense.
The orcs smashed upon them quickly forcing Legolas to defend the other two while they drew sward and knife even though he could only wield one of his usual two knives as his left arm no longer functioned normally due to the arrow now sticking out of it. He fought fiercely vanquishing any foes that he came against until the orcs were piling around him in heaps of motionless flesh. Even with the numbers that the three Mirkwood warriors were slaying, the orcs just kept coming out of the darkness in a seemingly endless numbers. The battle drug on monotonous in the swings and slices of blades along with several painful slashes as flesh was cut. After what seemed like hours Legolas felt exhaustion over taking him, but he kept fighting even though his vision was beginning to be rimmed in black while his wounds burned more ferociously than they should. "Their weapons must be poisoned," he thought resignedly as his hope of making it to Imladris alive began to fail.
Just as despair took its first fleeting holds on Legolas's heart, the flow of orcs seemed to slow as figures started being seen through the shadows helping the three to fight against the orcs. Legolas thought that he must be hallucinating from blood loss so he shook his head to clear the black spots that were gaining the majority of his field of vision, but he felt hope flare once more as he recognized the distinctive figures of Ellandan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel among several other warriors dressed in the colors of Imladris. He sighed as he lowered his knife that was now covered in the black blood of the orcs he had slain before he felt his strength drain away and his knees buckle beneath him.
To his surprise, he did not fall to the ground, but was caught by strong arms that cradled him gently on his descent and wiped the blood away from his face as worried eyes took in the blonde's condition. "Legolas," the warm voice of the elf now recognized as Elrohir greeted the downed prince before his fingers began probing the multiple wounds the woodland prince had acquired. His probing of the arrow still stuck in Legolas' shoulder prompted a groan to escape from the rapidly paling lips of the archer and a look of worry to cross the face of the Son of Elrond. "I'm afraid that the head of the arrow is too far in to pull it out, so I'm going to push it through the whole way."
Legolas caught Elrohir's hand and through gritted teeth elaborated on the state of his wounds, "There's more, Elrohir…My wounds…they burn. I think the arrows, and possibly blades were poisoned." He then lay his head back on the earth as the effort to speak had drained his almost non-existent energy and barely caught the other elf's nod of understanding before he began to give into unconsciousness.
The half-elf waved over another of his party to with strain the prince, looking up to see that he had caught the attention of Glorfindel before turning the entirety of his attention to Legolas. With practiced hands he broke off the fletched end of the arrow before manipulating the elf's shoulder along with the arrow into position and pushing the arrow through the muscle avoiding bones, joints, and major arteries. The pain that accompanied this motion brought the blonde once more to consciousness with a pained scream that issued forth from his lips. His eyes remained open as long as it took Elrohir to bind the wound.
Seeing that his friend had once more passed out, Elrohir took control of the situation quickly. He turned to Glorfindel and instructed, "He needs to get to my father for more help than I have the ability to give him. Asfaloth is the fastest horse that we have here and you are the most experienced rider. Please, Take him to Imladris and tell father that I suspect his wounds are poisoned. Hurry."
Glorfindel nodded his noble, gold-crowned head in understanding, picking up the slight figure of the prince in his arms and moving for his horse. "I will ride as if I were the wind," the blonde warrior called back as he mounted gracefully. "I will expect you will follow directly, it will not do for you to be in the same state when you return home, Lord Elrond will have my skin." With that the golden figures rode off in the direction of the Last Homely House leaving the rest of the warriors with the aftermath of the battle.
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A/N: Yeah, I know, this one's shorter, but its out faster and it's a good place to break for the next chapter. Sorry for the distinct lack of Legolas/Inwë in this chapter, but they will be back for the next chapter, I promise. As always please R/R!
