A/N: Phrases within [brackets] mean they're in Elvish, be it Sindarin or Quenya, though it is more probably in Quenya, as Aredhel is from the First Age. No use in finding the words in a dictionary just to put the translation at the end.

There's also a new M-rated chapter in "What the Owl didn't See", it doesn't interfere in the development of the story, it is just some colouring or spicing to it; for the ones who are comfortable to read it, it inserts right after Ferumbras sleeps. s/9622758/1/What-the-Owl-didn-t-See , chapter 2.

I thank you for every follow and favorite and review, you keep me motivated!

You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between
What I thought and what I said
You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over your start
You're my head
You're my heart

(Florence and the Machine – No light, no light)

The constant bouncing, added to the weakness the blood loss imposed on him, made Ferumbras sleep most of the time. Sometimes he woke up startled, mumbling incoherently, only to be hushed by the elf who was carrying him at that moment. He begun to learn the difference between them from the way each one carried him in the blanket made into a sling; Aredhel tended to hold him under his arms with the left hand and to use her right to hold her spear, that was also used to help her balance sometimes; Nellas would rather use both arms, one under his knees and other under his shoulders, but she tied the blanket more tightly, so she could free both her hands when needed and still have him secure.

They were already three days long into the forest and five since the snowslide, running, stopping only to eat something and sleep a couple of hours. The hobbit slept most of the time, the uneasy sleep of poison, even if the athelas dressing prevented the worst. They changed it daily, and Aredhel added the bark of a tree she knew to his water bottle, as a painkiller. After this, Ferumbras slept better at night and was a bit more conscious during the day, and it seemed to be improving every day. Nevertheless, they had no illusions that he was going to heal without the proper care they could find only in a House of Healing.

When the silver haired elf called to stop for the night, Ferumbras was glad to be on the ground, on his own feet, even if he felt so weak and dizzy; it was not on him to be a burden on anyone, and he understood they stopped only to have some rest of his weigh, even if he was not a fat hobbit.

Aredhel took her food and sat, leaning on a tree trunk to rest her back, as she had been the last to carry the hobbit, and nibbled her bread. He looked at her, feeling it was the first time in days that he was completely lucid, glad to have his mind working a little better, even if his body was a wreck.

"Milady?'

She acknowledged him.

"Yes, Master Halfling?"

"I want to… thank you, thank you both." He looked at Nellas, who was nearby sharpening one of her innumerable knives, and she sent him a small smile. "I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. I'd be dead twice."

Nellas nodded, agreeing with a smile, but said nothing; Aredhel looked from him to the piece of bread in her hand, and back to him.

"We appreciate your thankfulness, Master Halfling. It is more than we are used to from most people."

"I don't understand; you fought battles to free this world of the darkness, of course you should be thanked for."

Nellas wiped her knife and sheathed it, then reached their bag for the herbs to change Ferumbras' bandage, and talked to him while tending the wound.

"We came to escort you and your friends out of our own volition, because it is what we like to do, to help people is our chosen place in the natural order of things; we elves love peace, laughter and merrymaking, but whenever it is needed we are fighters, we fight Morgoth's darkness in every form, and the unnatural creatures he bred. Usually, people are grateful for the deeds of our people, but it is not quite so for the two of us."

He felt uncomfortable, because he had seen how wonderful those two could be, and he had no clue as to why someone would ever think of not being grateful to them for being watchful on the dark things that crept on Middle-Earth the same way one would be grateful to any other elf.

"If… If I'm so bold, could I ask you ladies why? You both are so… so wonderful, none could never ask for someone more deserving thankfulness than you. And I mean it!"

The elves exchanged glances, and seemingly agreed on something, even if it looked like the silver-haired one was a bit more reluctant than the raven-haired one. Aredhel was the one to speak.

"People believe it's their place to judge love."

Ferumbras felt a good sized stone settle in the bottom of his stomach. He lowered his eyes, disturbed, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, or groggy from the poison again.

["I said it was no issue to dwell on the halfling. He's just another prejudiced fool."]

["Don't be you so prejudiced, Sunshine. He said no word, and he thanked us before you started the issue."]

Aredhel rubbed her brow, tiredly. The possible causes and consequences of the avalanche still clung to her mind and she didn't have time to reason it out yet, too focused on getting the collateral safely to Thranduil's halls, but it blurred her reasoning all the same. And the perspective of seeing Thranduil was another nuisance.

"Miladies?"

They both turned to face Ferumbras, forgotten he was awake. He continued, a low voice matching his health state.

"I apologize for giving you so much trouble; I… I'm just a hobbit from the Shire, I don't understand the big things of the world; but I want you to know that I am thankful to you both, and I don't care if other people ain't. It is my own heart to yours, and my heart wouldn't be beating if it weren't for you ladies, and..." His voice was weak and tired, but he wanted to be sure his point was made. "…one who has been judged once will never judge another one."

The elves exchanged glances, watching him slumber into sleep again.

"About love, you know."

Nellas waited until she thought the hobbit was asleep and untied the knot that made the blanket turn into a sling, turning the carrying sling back to its blanket form, using it to cover the trembling form of the poisoned man. It was the easiest way to do it without having him wincing in pain because of being moved.

"Your medicine did him well, but the poisoning is still at work in the inside. The counter-venom must be instilled in his blood before the full moon."

"I know. But his body needs rest without moving, at least some hours per day, else the counter-poisoning effect athelas is able will not work. We must find the balance between our need for speed and allowing the medicine to work."

"You need rest, too."

"We are both overdoing, Nellas; I take first watch."

"No, you carried him the last hour, I take first watch, you sleep."

"I'm too worried to sleep, I take the watch."

"You are always worried, if it were because of worrying, you'd never sleep. I take the watch."

The silver-haired elf agreed, unwilling, and laid beside the hobbit for the shared warmth. She was almost dozing off when she heard the trembling form mutter in his dreams.

"Otho…"

ooo000ooo

The elves had run several days more, and thanked Elbereth for the good job Legolas and his crew where doing in keeping the path clean and safe. Even the bridge over the black river had been reconstructed, and they had crossed it two days before. They should be close to Thranduil's halls by now, which was just in time, because after the painkiller bark lost its strenght for being used too many times, Ferumbras was getting worse again.

The wound had mended, but the poisoning effects were worsening day by day, immobilizing him; it begun in his extremities, fingers and toes getting numb and weak, and then stiff, and was advancing up his limbs. There was a chance Thranduil had the counter-venom and that they would reach his halls in time, but if the paralysis reached his torso both lungs and heart would stop. Thanks to Estel and his athelas, it was taking far a longer time than it would usually, but there was no guarantee that he would come out of that ordeal unscathed.

With this in mind Aredhel handled the sling with the sleeping (or was it unconscious?) hobbit to Nellas, and adjusted the backpack to her shoulders. They were running even at night, their elvish eyes able to see in the utter darkness of the forest, racing against time. Even if tired, they wanted to put some hours of path behind them before their brief rest.

"Did you hear this?"

Aredhel froze at Nellas' question, taking a better grip of her spear.

"There is something coming."

The sound of something large stumping and the crack of branches was almost clear to them, and approaching.

"If we just move out of the way whatever it is might miss us."

"Let's move, then, run!"

They had not taken a dozen steps when another sound made them stop in their tracks. It was a scream. A human scream.

Why you should not skip next chapter: Because it's time to handle out some gifts; let us see what the visitors brought to Erebor.