/falls in

Hellooooo. To say I am tired is to say nothing, the exams really suck all energy out of me, so 'tis a miracle I still write xD Aw well, one exam done, three to go /drops dead

That is also why this chapter is kind of short, sorry guys D:

In this chapter, basic knowledge of Silmarillion is welcomed, but still not obligatory.

By the way, several days ago I received a PM from a person, who was kind of flaming about pitchfork. To clear the situation: well, I just thought that pitchfork is a appropriate weapon for a villager to use, non? :D Correct me if I am wrong))

Now on with the story.

(Reviews motivate me to find time between exams and write! Consider that xD)

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I will become fair wind in the seas

And a cloud in summer heat,

Bright fire in darkness of nights

And a path in a black forest.

Wherever you will have to go

Upon the hand of nights and days,

I will guard you on your way

By which you are coming to me.

-:- -:- -:-

Finally, I reached Onodlo' bank and lowered my burden on a small spot of grass among rocky ground. We were hidden from surroundings and Legolas was still unconscious, so I decided to do what I could until other elves arrived.

I decided to see to the arrow wounds first, because they were the easiest and would not consume too much time. The arrow in his forearm was nearly sticking out from the other side, so I quickly lit a tiny fire, sterilized my small knife and cut accurately until the head of the arrow was poking out of the wound. I pulled at it slowly and soon got the whole shaft out. I felt relieved that I had decided to do so instead of just pulling the arrow through the same hole it made when pierced flesh, for the head was barbed and would cause much more damage, should I have chosen the other way.

I frowned as I remembered that the shafts had identical featherings, which meant the arrow in Legolas' thigh was also barbed. The Sinda moaned and tried to get away as I started cutting through flesh to the head carefully. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and leant over the wound. Thankfully, neither of the arrows have met bones or pierced any important blood vessels, otherwise it'd be much more difficult and threatening.

Finally, I got the arrow out and threw it away with disgust. I looked in the direction of Nacoth and realized the fire was either defeated already, or close to being so. I thought for a while, then stood up and straightened, turning in the direction of Kotar. The village was not far away, and its stables were at the southern end of it, so I believed our horses would hear, should I call. People of Kotar had also gone to Nacoth to help their friends, so the village was relatively empty, therefore no one would suspect anything, should the Elven horses suddenly run away together. Besides, even if someone witnessed their leave, they would think the elves at the fire had summoned them. Considering the fact that the villagers seemed to succeed with fighting the fire, my people would soon need their steeds indeed, so I let out a high long whistle, which we used to summon horses, and listened.

A minute later I heard hoof beats of twenty-five horses, as they galloped out of the forest to the bank, neighing happily in greeting. My steed approached me and poked my shoulder with its soft nose, as if asking why I summoned them. I looked around and counted the horses, searching with my eyes for the two which were carrying basic healing supplies – before leaving, I noticed Randoloth fastening two bags to the leather belts around the beasts' waists, in case someone got hurt. Finally, I spotted them.

- Come, come here, - I called out for them.

They neighed softly and trotted towards me. They stopped in front of me, turning to a side so that I could unfasten the bags, and tossed their heads agitatedly. I checked through the bags and unfastened one after finding out they were identical.

- Now go, my friends, - I told all the mounts, except of mine. – Flee to Nacoth, you will find the others there, - Most likely they will also meet Nenirdan, Hirdan, Mothindil, Himhathel and Angalenn on their way, so that they would know where we were.

I watched the horses disappear in the greenery and returned to Legolas. He had not stirred since I started cutting the arrows out, and that was kind of disturbing, even if explicable due to his condition, which was far from perfect. I quickly found a small kettle we used for preparing herbs and filled it with water from the river before putting it at fire and sitting down, so that I could assess his other injuries. While the water in the pot was not sterilized yet, I wetted a cloth with clean water I had in my waterskin and started gently wiping off dried blood and dirt. It took me a long time before I managed to get the full view of the damage applied.

It seemed like the Valar themselves were looking over Legolas, for the terrible strike of the pitchfork didn't damage inner organs: his ribs received the main blow. If the strike were mere inches lower, all four cogs would meet no resistance the ribs showed and would embed themselves deeply in his abdomen, piercing organs, causing grievous damage. But still, to say I was shocked was to say nothing: the wound was still horrible, for the two cogs which were met by the ribcage crushed into the ribs, breaking them and making some of them turn inwards, which in its turn made me worry about his lungs.

In Lothlorien, each soldier was obliged to spend several years training for a healer, and after I had finished the necessary ten years, I decided to study for some more, so that I would be more prepared, should something happen in the wild. And now was not the first time when I was grateful that I had made such a decision ages ago. When the water started boiling, I cleaned the wounds on Legolas' chest and abdomen once again and started setting the ribs. It was a difficult task, and I was utterly exhausted after I had finally finished it. I put painkilling herbs on the stitches I made and wrapped Legolas' waist with bandages, tight enough so that the ribs would not move again. At the same time I threw the same herbs in the kettle to prepare tea for when Legolas awakened, and then washed his face carefully, to sterilize the hideous gash. The skin was so tender I was reluctant to put stitches on it, plus the wound was not too deep with the bleeding having lessened some time ago, so I just hoped Legolas' healing abilities would kick in as soon as possible.

After I had done everything I could, I put the kettle off the fire so that it would get cold and sat down near Legolas, watching over him and listening to the sounds around us. All was silent, and I returned to my thoughts. The situation looked really grim, and I was confused about what to do. I was – we all were – eager to help Legolas, but who could compete with the ancient spirit which had invaded his body so many years ago? Galadriel, my mind prompted. At first, I wanted to wave off the thought, but something stopped me. In fact, there was some truth in it. Galadriel, the only daughter of Finarfin, the one who passed the Grinding Ice where so many lives were wasted, the one who survived the Doom of Noldor and all its consequences. During her admittedly long life she has collected great wisdom, greater than anyone else I knew. As Keeper of Nenya, she possessed undeniable power and magical skills. Indeed, if there was any chance to save the elf, it was Galadriel who should try. Therefore I decided to return to Lothlorien – especially since it was already our time to go home – and ask her for help, since there wasn't anything else in our might.

Some time later, I heard horses approaching our place and strained my hearing. Those indeed were horses, five Elven horses, and I smiled as they emerged from the forest and approached with riders on their backs. I recognized Nenirdan, Angalenn, Hirdan, Himhathel and Mothindil as they dismounted and hurried towards me, expressing their concern over our well-being, gasping in horror when they saw Legolas' face.

- Legolas was wounded terribly, I did what I could, - I said.

- How… how much cruelty! – Mothindil exclaimed, shaking his head disbelievingly.

- What are his other injuries? – Himhathel inquired, his eyebrows furrowed.

- Two arrow wounds in his limbs, but those do not worry me as much as this, - I lifted the elf's cloak so that the others could see the bandages encircling his waist. – He was stabbed by pitchfork.

- Pitchfork! – the twin brothers, Nenirdan and Hirdan, could not contain their shock.

I nodded, perfectly understanding their emotions.

- Aye. I fear for him, for he has not awoken ever since he had lost consciousness near Nacoth. Where are the others?

- I believe they are currently finishing with the fire, - Angalenn spoke up. – I managed to contact Mitherir before we left searching for you, telling where we were heading. They might get here soon.

- Good, - I said, thinking over his words. – We must get away from here as soon as possible, while people are still busy. It is not safe here. If they start suspecting us, we are doomed, Eldar or not, - they others nodded in agreement.

-:- -:- -:-

Half an hour later the rest of my patrol emerged from among the trees, greeting us, rejoicing at our success in finding Legolas. Without pausing, we mounted our own horses, Legolas was lifted up on my steed, and I was holding his limp body so that he would not fall off. Menelmahtar rode towards me, silently questioning what we should do now.

- The supplies we have left in the village are in the same guest house, the one on the eastern edge of Kotar, - I said. – Appoint five soldiers to get them from the house and meet us one mile away to the north. Nothing can possibly happen, but if it does, we will be close enough to aid you, - I added, silently hoping that would not be needed.

Menelmahtar nodded, and as we started moving, called out to the elves, explaining our plan.

When riding past Kotar, we went further north, while Darathel, Macarwel, Faunloth, Kemenlor and Thorondan turned to the west and entered the village. We waited for them a mile away, and I sighed with relief when they came back with riderless horses loaded with our supplies.

- All is quiet, - Macarwel said when they neared us. – Almost everyone had left to Nacoth. Even if they will suspect us in helping the wolf, - he reflexively glanced towards Legolas, - escape, we will be far away by then.

- Good, - I answered. – We are leaving for Lothlorien, then. – With those words I spurred my horse and the others followed me, leaving the two villages behind.