MANY THANKS TO maiden and ziggy3 for reviewing, Ponygal54 for adding Long, Long Journey to Favorite Stories, and misscruel for adding it to Story Alerts. THANK YOU VERY MUCH! Please make me add your name to my "List of My Very Favorite People in the Whole Wide World" (AKA Reviewers!).

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Long, Long Journey

Chapter 7

by Caelhir

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Legolas was absolutely still, eyes watching carefully as the orcs rushed by below him. They seemed to be in a hurry, and their numbers were fewer than he thought they would have been. He wondered if this ragtag rabble of orcs was even the same band of creatures that had kidnapped the Lady of Imladris. He waited for a count of thirty to pass before he felt he could safely breathe again.

As he rocked back onto his knees from his position lying above the pass where the orcs had been, he felt a tug on the wound in his side. It reminded him that he had not remembered to look at it once he had arrived in Imladris. Everything regarding his departure from Greenwood, arrival in Imladris and departure scarcely a half a day later had been too hectic and flustered to even remember that he had yet to ask Elrond or elladan to look at it. Though Elrohir was one of Legolas' very closest friends, Elladan was the twin with the greater knowledge and expertise i the healing arts. Both Legolas and Elrohir had a soldier's basic training in the art of healing, Legolas perhaps with a greater knowledge as Greenwood's many dangers demanded, but neither could do much beyond cleaning, cauterizing and stitching a wound.

Now Legolas was torn. He knew that if he followed the orcs now, he would glean better information on their whereabouts for the war party Elrond was sure to send when Legolas came back. Legolas had decided three days ago (for that was how long to had been since Elrond had sent him out on the trail) that if he found Lady Celebrian's captors but was heavily outnumbered and a single handed rescue attempt would be ridiculous, that he would return to Imladris to seek out help. He had also decided to scout the area thoroughly, whenever he found their lair, so that he could be a useful vessel of information instead of a panicky half-informed scout, like he so often saw flying into his father's halls.

Legolas grinned as a memory came back to him particularly strongly. Thramaer's newest recruit, an eager-to-please but slightly overzealous young elf named Gilear, had been on a examination-like delivery, for this would decide whether or not he would fully become one of Thranduil's messengers. Gilear, who had been quite stressed about this final test, had been walking by a few maidens who were discussing Greenwood's younger prince, who had returned from a long patrol a few hours ago. The maidens had been speaking of the enemies he had slain, and how grateful they were for his life. Poor Gilear misheard them, turning the innocent, "I am so glad that Prince Legolas killed all those enemies," as, "I am so sad that Prince Legolas was killed by the enemies." He had practically took the doors of the Great Hall off their hinges when he had come flying into them, carrying such a pace that many elves in the hall looked up, startled as he sprinted up to King Thranduil's throne, where the king was speaking with another elf. The king straightened and had asked what was wrong, for he knew that this was part of the exam: report your last message to the king for full marks. Thranduil was reasonably sure that getting into a panic was not what Thramaer had intended. Gilear had proceeded to gasp out the "news" he had heard.

Legolas grinned as he remembered the look on his father's face, one eyebrow lifted, lips pressed firmly together to stop the wild laughter that had threatened to burst out, as Thranduil had turned to the other elf he had been speaking to. Said "other elf" was Legolas, of course, and he had also attempted to keep the laughter from flying from his. Thramaer, on the other hand, made no such efforts as he had doubled over, pounding his fists on his knees as he roared with laugher. Poor Gilear! He had mistaken Thramaer's tears of laughter to be those of grief for his "dead" friend!

Legolas smiled to himself, feeling a bittersweet pang as he remembered the happy times in Greenwood. He sobered as he remembered, again (his attention seemed a little far away*) why he was out on the side of a mountain, hiding from orcs.

The number of orcs he had seen was a little worrisome, wounded as he was, but if that was the whole of their company, it would not be an absurd effort to kill them all. He decided to tend to his wound now, rather than later. If anything went wrong, as things so often did, he wanted to be in as good 'a health as he could be. He unwrapped the wound, covered for nearly two weeks now.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell of the gash. It was mostly healed, he saw to his delight. He frowned, realized that the majority of the wound must be unhealed on the inside of him, if it still pained him as it did. He sighed, and set to work cleaning it out and rewrapping it.

When he finished that, he repacked his things and set out after the orcs, deadly determination tingeing his thoughts. It was their day to die.

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"Elrohir?"

Elladan's voice swam through the darkness to tap gently at Elrohir's consciousness. Elrohir groaned and opened his eyes, wondering why he felt so weighed down, heavy and listless. Sitting up, he heard Elladan stifle a gasp. He caught a sight of himself in a mirror conveniently placed opposite him. He mentally reminded himself to ask his father to move the mirror, for catching sight of himself after three days of delirious sleep was not the first thing he wanted to see. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he met Elladan's worried eyes. Seeing the way Elladan looked at him reminded him of their mother-

-And in a rush, he remembered everything. He remembered what Elrond had told them, and his descent into his grief-induced collapse.

He looked back at Elladan, eyes slightly moist, and asked,

"It wasn't a dream?"

Elladan shook his head. "No, I wish I had something else to tell you, but it has been three days, and Legolas-"

"Elrohir shot up, standing, swaying dangerously, and sitting back down in one movement.

"Three days? Three days? I've been lying here for three days and no one thought to wake me?"

Elladan smirked at the look on his brother's face. "Oh yes, brother mine, three days. And I tried everything to wake you, all of our usual waking-one-up tricks too!"

Elrohir stiffened. "Our tricks? Why- but-" he sputtered into silence. "Our tricks are dangerous! Why would you use them on me?"

Elrohir sighed and rested his chin on his fist. "I guess Legolas must think I'm a lousy host, eh?"

At Elladan's shifty expression, Elrohir raised his head and regarded his brother more seriously.

"What?"

Elladan cleared his throat and spoke.

That was something else Ada waned to tell you, but you, erm, collapsed before we had the chance. Ada sent Legolas to follow Nana's trail into the mountains. He is going to bring her back."

Elrohir gaped at Elladan.

"He sent- sent- Legolas to- to- follow a party of crazed orcs into the isolated mountains?"

Elladan nodded, seemingly oblivious to his brother's outraged indignation.

"He sent him shortly after Linsul's death."

Elrohir's mind whirled into a silent frustration. His best friend, sent on a suicidal mission into the Misty Mountains to rescue his mother who had been captured by orcs, the same orcs who would capture and kill Legolas...it was too much, just too much.

Elrohir stood and walked to his brother. The identical faces searched each others eyes before each moved forward to grip the back of the others shirt in an awkward brotherly read each other's feelings and sent the same message to the other:

We will get through this, brother, you and I. We will be strong.

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*If Legolas' attention wanders, it's because mine does as well. Please bear with me! I think it makes for interesting background on Legolas in my universe.