If he were currently in the business of being honest with himself, the Adan would have realized that he truly did not understand what was occurring around him. Once Legolas had mentioned that a Warg was outside, waiting to attack them once she awoke, Estel had thought about little except the horrendous, nauseating smell of that animal, the same Warg he had been forced into riding on his way to the small cave, the one from which he now fled. He wanted to be out of the cave full of dead Orcs, and away from the Warg.
Young Estel wanted to be home.
Although he now followed the Elda's hasty plan, Estel was not sure he trusted the Wood-Elf. What Legolas had told him – that the Prince had been trying to trick the Orc, rather than truly trying to leave without the Adan – had seemed valid enough. He did not leave me, the Adan thought, beginning his slow walk down the hillside. Now he plans to fight the Warg alone, should she wake, while I escape. He is more injured than I am, but if he wished to escape without me, he could.
Measuring his steps, watching with intent eyes for loose rocks or other debris that might obstruct his path, cause him to stumble, or create a ruckus sure to wake the sleeping enemy, the human thought, Even if I make it to the trees, I would never be able to escape the Warg should Legolas die, or if he were otherwise not able to stop her. The Warg would find me in the forest easily enough.
The fear this thought inspired made the human stop in his step and turn around gradually to see what he could of the Prince and the Warg. Legolas had crept his way closer to the beast than Estel would want to be to a Warg ever again. The Orc sword the Elf held steady in his hand as he waited before the animal, standing halfway between where the Warg lay asleep and where Estel had stopped walking. The Prince was far enough away that the Warg's path to Estel could be impeded and that the Warg would not be roused by the smell of the Elf's blood, but not so close that the Elf would be within easy reach. Should the Elf try to gain more ground on the Warg, the beast would surely pick up the odor of the Elf's essence being so close to her, for it covered his torso, else Legolas might have merely pierced the Warg's heart as she slept.
After a few more minutes of slow, cautious progress, again the human stopped walking, turning back to where the Prince stood before the Warg. The incline was sharp but not far from the base of the small foothill on which the Orcs had made their home in the cavern. Even should Legolas kill it, or I kill it before it reaches me, I cannot find my way back to Imladris without him. Despite his fear that the Elf had betrayed him, the Prince was not betraying him now: in fact, Legolas was risking his own life without hesitation to see that Estel would survive.
He began his slow descent again, dizzy with the lack of air as he held his breath to hear the sounds he made while walking. Why would he lie about trying to trick the Orc? He could just as easily have left me here to face the Warg alone, or left before I had even woke. When he had nearly reached the line of brush at the edge of the forest, Estel stopped, this time for good. He was not in the trees as the Prince had instructed; he waited on the fringes, unwilling to leave the Silvan without seeing for himself what occurred. He should have come with me. We could already be in the forest. The human was well aware that the Prince had not come with him because he wanted to see the Adan safely to the woods, regardless of the consequences to himself.
From where he stood, even this far down the hillside, Estel could see the Prince's injuries were severe. Although Legolas' arm was within a sling, the young human had no idea how the Elf had taken care of his dislocated shoulder, nor how the Wood-Elf managed to hold the Orc blade when his bicep was bleeding, as the shoddy bandage the Prince had placed over it was crimson with seeping blood. While most of the Elda's back, sides, and arms were covered in the light red welts of being beaten with branches, some of these marks were less welts than bruises, and they lined along the Elf's flesh to create a crossed pattern with Legolas' other wounds. Along the Wood-Elf's ribs were two deep scores where the Orc had threatened to taste the Elf, and on the Prince's back were the gouges made by the Warg's claws, covered in debris and filth from the cavern's floor. Estel's own pain was enough to make him wish to find the nearest patch of soft grass and lay there, waiting for help or for death, and so he was awed by the Prince's stamina.
Legolas looked back to where Estel stood watching, giving the Adan a disgruntled scowl; Estel knew the Elf was displeased that he had not fled to the sparse trees leading to the much deeper forest. Estel also knew what the Elf wanted; that is, for the young Adan to flee and leave the Prince to face the Warg alone. He was not leaving the Elf: taking the bow in hand, the Adan pulled free one of the black arrows from the quiver he had been given, and settled it on the cord. Legolas shook his head and pointed to the woody area behind the human.
Suddenly, the Warg moved – Estel could hear the beast's soft growl as she rolled to her back, lying with her paws and legs stretched lazily up to the rock overhang above. Immediately, the Wood-Elf turned back to the beast, crouching with his blade in hand, as he prepared for the Warg's attack. No attack came, for the Warg merely settled further into her position, yawning slightly as she remained in her light slumber.
Little by little, the Prince walked backwards, away from the Warg and the danger he faced. Elves were light of foot, this much Estel knew well, for the Eldar with whom he lived would always sneak up on him, although not usually intentionally – unless it was the twins. Many times the young Adan had been caught doing something he should not because he had not known of an Elf's approach. Therefore, it was without sound and without uncertainty that Legolas began to walk down the hillside, his gaze constantly on the Warg and his step sure amongst the loose rock and dirt there.
Come on, Legolas. The archer seemed to float down the hillside, so slowly did he amble. Hurry.
Just as the Elf was nearly down the incline, the Warg rolled once more, though this time she rolled onto her wounded side, forcing Legolas' arrow, still stuck in her thick hide from their encounter the previous night, further into the bleeding wound. With a great howl of agony, the Warg struggled out from under the outcropping, her wails of pain causing the hair on the Adan's arms and neck to stand on end as the sleeping beast finally awoke.
"Go, Estel," the Prince yelled, never looking to the Adan, and drawing the human from his thinking; his shout culled the Warg's attention to the Wood-Elf, which was just as Legolas had intended.
The Elda stood his ground, his sword held out and his feet planted firmly in the rocky soil as the Warg, shaking her head and prowling warily from the plateau of the hillside, realized that the Elf she had almost had in her possession earlier could be hers now. Glaringly yellow and disgusting, the bared teeth of Warg seemed to smile at the Prince, and Estel observed the foul beast's sudden change from sleepy, pained animal to aware, hungry hunter.
I can't let him fight this thing alone, the Adan thought, seeing that the Warg was crouched low, advancing slowly towards the Elf, as if unsure why the stalwart but injured Wood-Elf wasn't running for his life.
I can do this, he decided, raising the bow. If nothing else, I can divert her attention to give Legolas a chance.
However, before he could pull the cord back to aim, the Warg's slow advance became a run, and the beast took off down the incline and towards the Wood-Elf. Vainly, the Adan tried to pull back the cord of the bow, but this bow was not the same as the small bow to which he was accustomed, but a stronger weapon requiring greater strength. As he watched, as he yanked with all his might on the thick gut string, the running Warg began to slide down the hillside, its front paws clawing at the ground in surprise as the rocky soil shifted under its weight, sending a crashing wave of stone and dirt before it.
The Elf still held his ground but looked back briefly to Estel, taking his attention away from the tumbling Warg long enough to shout, "Run!"
Horrified, the Adan watched as the Elf lost his footing in the roiling stones, even his Elven abilities failing him when standing on the ever-shifting ground. Legolas fell to his knees without a sound as he slid with the rocks further down the incline. He retained hold of his sword, but the Elf could not stop his own plummet down the hill and would not be able to fend off the Warg.
Estel backed away from the onslaught of stone, the Orc bow held tightly in his hand as he realized, Legolas will not be able to kill it. I have to do something.
The small landslide had stopped, the rocky earth and loam ceasing soon after it had started, but the damage was done, for the Elf had lost not only his balance, but also whatever advantage he held over the injured Warg. Struggling to rise, the Wood-Elf stumbled as he came to his feet, his sword ever out before him as the Warg jumped, pouncing upon the ailing Silvan before he could raise his sword to fend. Falling backwards under the Warg, Legolas writhed against the earth, letting loose a cry of pain and surprise as the Warg's weight ground his much-abused back into the rock. Sparing the human only a cursory glance, the Warg atop the Prince snarled at the Elf, the drool from its hideous mouth glistening in the morning sunlight while Estel endeavored with all his might to use the Orc weapon.
He could draw the bow, but not enough for the arrow to travel far, much less to puncture the Warg's hide. It is too much, the Adan thought, horrified that he could not help the Wood-Elf and even more so as the Warg's jaws snapped close to the wriggling Prince's neck. It has to –
With a hiss from Estel as the effort of drawing the cord back wrenched his wounded stomach, and a similar hiss from the black arrow that sped forth from his fingers upon releasing his shot, the still air became filled with the screaming howls of the Warg when the arrow hit the back of the beast's neck.
Estel pulled free another arrow from the Orc quiver he had looped over his arm, and had it notched on the bowstring, prepared to try again to kill the Warg, when the Warg's howling suddenly ceased. Looking up from his fumbling hands, the Adan saw the beast crumple to the side, its blood gushing out from its neck, though it clawed ineffectually at the sword stuck in its throat as she fell.
The Prince lay unmoving on the ground: his chest heaved, evincing to the Adan that Legolas still lived. Dropping the bow and quiver, the human ran to reach the Elf's side as quickly as his wounded belly would allow. The Elda had his eyes shut tightly, his arms splayed out.
"Legolas!" the young Adan cried, falling to the ground beside the Prince. The Warg still breathed, its blood still gushed, and the proximity of the Warg to where he and the Prince were caused Estel to take hold of the immortal's hand, standing as he tried to pull the Elf into standing as well. "Wake up, Legolas!"
When Estel pulled at the Prince's hand, Legolas assured the human, opening his eyes and glancing beside him as he said, "She will not rise, Estel. She will die." Legolas grunted as his injured arm was jarred, accepting the Adan's help in rising from his prone position on the rocks, only to remain on his knees. The pain was not enough to keep him from chiding, "I told you not to use the bow unless you had no other recourse."
The Adan let the Wood-Elf lift his tunic, exasperated that the Elf was checking on him rather than caring for himself, and he was no longer as suspicious of the Silvan as before, for though the Prince had no reason to want the human to die, he had no reason to want the human to live, either. He cares that I am hurt, Estel decided, waiting patiently as the Wood-Elf tightened the loose bandaging around the human's belly. He is not angry that I have disobeyed him. He is angry that I am hurt... that I have hurt myself further.
The Elf, not at all aware of the Adan's silent cogitations, began to fuss at the human, telling him, "It is no worse than before, or not that I can tell, but that does not mean you should have done what you have done. You should have run, Estel."
"Had I not disregarded your instruction, the Warg would be eating you for breakfast," the young Adan told the Elf blithely, somewhat angered at the Prince's patronizing tone.
His eyebrows high upon his bruised forehead as he stared at the Adan in surprise, the Prince sighed. "You are right, Estel. I am sorry," Legolas admitted, rising to his feet with another pained grunt. Pebbles and dirt now clung to his sticky, bloody back and sides, though he had incurred no greater injury from the Warg's pounce. "Thank you. You have saved my life twice today, even though you have not trusted me while doing it."
"And you have saved mine, at least as many times," the Adan returned. Abruptly changing the topic, for his mind was on the subject of trust, Estel asked as the Wood-Elf led him away from the dying Warg, "You would not have fled, leaving me to fight a Warg alone, would you, Legolas?"
Frowning, thinking that the Adan was once more speaking of his unsuccessful plan to keep Estel from harm earlier, the Wood-Elf began to explain, "I promise you, Estel. I did not intend to leave you behind. I know that it did not work, but I was trying to trick the Orc into –"
The young human interrupted with an annoyed shake of his head, as he spoke grabbing the Wood-Elf's forearm to keep the Prince from falling when Legolas' body began to sway, "That's not what I meant." He merely repeated, not wanting to acknowledge that he had been wrong in not trusting the Elf by having to explain that he now believed Legolas' excuse, "You would not have fled, leaving me to fight a Warg alone, would you?"
Legolas' frown grew, and he rubbed at the claret on his forehead, frowned even more at his bloodied hand, and then wiped his hand as clean as he could on his filthy breeches. "No, Estel. I would not have let you fight alone." As the young human smiled smugly, the Prince exhaled with frustration, saying, "Is there a point to this conversation, young one? I would like to be free of these mountains, return to our camp to fetch our weapons and supplies, tend to your stomach wound, and be in Imladris as quickly as possible."
Momentarily forgetting the pain of his belly, the ache of his head, and the remnants of fright that still held him bound in the terror of what he had thought to be his certain demise, Estel pointed out, "You would not have left me to fight alone, but you expected me to leave you? That is hardly how friends treat each other."
At once, the Prince smiled, his dirtied and haggard face lighting with genuine, albeit poignant amusement. "Friends? So you do not doubt me, then?" Legolas hobbled forward, turning to make certain that Estel followed him, "I am sorry to have asked you to flee, Estel." Seeing that the Adan was trailing him slowly through the brambles and small evergreens lining the rocky slope before the forest proper, the Elf told him, "You are right – friends do not forsake each other in times of trouble, or cause each other harm."
Estel felt the hot flush of humiliation rising up his neck, staining his cheeks red: he hated apologies, and was glad that the Elf was walking ahead of him and thus could not see his embarrassment. Get it out, he told himself, no longer following the Elf but switching his weight from foot to foot, as he squirmed his aversion to apologizing.
"I am sorry that I hit you," the Adan blurted, surprised that he had spoken. "I thought you would try to kill me. I thought it was a dream," he added in a rush.
The Prince's smile did not falter, but the gleam of amusement in his blue eyes became one of understanding, and of sympathy. "Do not worry over it, Estel," the Wood-Elf told his human friend, placing a hand on the Adan's shoulder to lead the child through the thicket. "You were wounded, and frightened, as any in your position would have been, and right to think I would harm you. We hardly know each other," the Elf said, adjusting the bloodied Orc blade he had slid into his sling for keeping. "Although I must say, Estel, you and I make a good team."
In spite of his pain and fear, the idea of being considered by the Prince as a peer, and not as a child, made Estel beam his pleasure at the compliment.
The Prince's hand felt heavy on Estel's shoulder: the Wood-Elf, perhaps without realizing it, or perhaps because he did not wish Estel to know how injured he truly was, used the human surreptitiously for balance as they walked. He is lucky to be standing, Estel thought, eying the Wood-Elf from his peripheral vision.
The Silvan hesitated, appearing as if he had much to say, but then continued succinctly, not speaking what he had intended, "Let us get out of the open, and then we will rest."
Estel chanced to smile. They were safe: the Orcs and Warg were dead, the forest lay before them, and though injured, for the first time since being captured by Morgoth's ugly and disgusting perversions of Eru's creations, Estel felt optimistic. It was almost too much for him, to have been as close to death as he had been, and then to be free of it. You are not free of death, the Adan scolded himself, watching Legolas stumble ahead of him into the forest, and neither is Legolas, if we do not soon find our supplies, or someone to help us.
Holding his aching stomach with one hand and the Orc bow in his other, Estel followed Legolas through the shrubs and trees, trusting the Wood-Elf to guide them home. At least I will have a tale to tell when tied up in the courtyard, he teased weakly, though he then had to admit when seeing the Prince's gruesome injuries and feeling his own weakness at the loss of blood and trauma of his ordeal, Or, I will have a tale to tell if we can make it to Imladris.