Faervel exhaled a tired breath whilst he contemplated his next move as he sat upon a sturdy branch in one of the very last trees on the Wood's border. His sharp but tired eyes had scanned the plains for some sign of what direction the men had taken. It did not taken him long to find one – for the men had left a very big clue – a huge amount of bodies lay out in the open with the afternoon sun shining down upon them.

Faervel stared some more unsure of what to do next, he didn't want to rush headlong into trouble but he was also loathe to let more time pass with Legolas still held captive. He looked again – from what he could see all the bodies were orc-ish but he'd have to get closer in order to calm his racing mind that Legolas' body was not crushed in amongst them. He gave a resigned sigh and was about to hop down from his lofty perch when movement caught his eye in amongst the thorny bushes near the Old Ford. Faervel instantly pressed back against the tree's trunk and gave it a fond pat as it re-arranged its leaves to cover him better.

There was no more movement for a long moment and Faervel was just beginning to wonder if his tired eyes were now seeing things when the shrubs rustled again. He peered down intently and was surprised to see a man on all fours making slow careful movements along the ground. Faervel cocked his head to the side and watched in bewilderment as the man continued his slow crawling through the brambles. Why in the Valar's name did the adan not just stand up and walk normally? For surely that could not be very comfortable, he mused as he continued to watch the man, he would be getting scratched to pieces.

He narrowed his eyes and instantly knocked an arrow as the answer came to him. Of course – the man was hiding. Why else go through such trouble? He grit his teeth and he began to stealthily make his way down to the ground. He was certain that this man was part of the group he'd been tracking – part of the group who had taken Legolas. Why else would an adan be out here taking such great care to stay unseen?

Too bad, Faervel thought fiercely as he dropped lightly to the ground with nary a sound, he'd been spotted now.

He hurried to catch up to the spot he had last seen the man making sure to keep his tread light and near soundless. In no time at all he was behind the man's thorny hiding spot. It was trickier here even an elf would struggle to move soundlessly among the snagging brambles; so without further ado Faervel drew back his arrow and aimed.

"Stop human."

The man froze for a second before he sprung up and made a run for it. Or at least he tried to. Faervel shot off his arrow grazing the man's ankle and sending him sprawling to the floor. Faervel gave him no time to recover and quickly yanked him up off the ground and pulled his arms tight behind him in a painful and debilitating hold.

"Please, please…argh…you're hurting me. I'm …ugh…a simple farm hand please…argh…stop." The man tried to wriggle out of his iron grip to no effect.

Faervel forced him down to his knees, then face down onto the ground. With one hand still holding the man's arms in place he clumsily loosened his belt with the other before using it to bind the adan's arms in their current position. He usually had rope with him but all of it had gone toward the safe transport of Hadril and Arasson back to the Palace. His belt would do in a pinch.

Satisfied with his work he rolled the man over to get a better look at him, caging him in with his knees. He arched a perfect ebony eyebrow at the trembling human beneath him.

"A simple farm hand you say? Then why are you so far from any of the farms in this area?"

"I…I…I"

"And why do you wear such fine jewellery?" Faervel's stared pointedly at the mithril earrings that twinkled in the man's ears.

"I may be a farm hand but…but I'm not so poor as you think elf," the man squirmed against his hold, "Even the humble like me can afford something nice once in a while."

Faervel gave a loud snort, "Ah adan you nearly sound convincing, but I know for a fact that those earrings cost more than a farm hand could ever afford."

The man gave a mighty heave against his bonds again, "You have no right to treat me like this. I…I'm a simple farm hand and my master has given me a few days off. Now get off me!"

Faervel rolled his eyes, clearly the adan wanted to make this as difficult as possible and he really did not have the time or patience for it. In an instant his dagger was at the man's throat.

"I know to whom those earrings belong thief! I suggest you lead me to him before I cut you into tiny pieces." Faervel knew he was snarling at the man but he could not calm himself.

He knew this man had to be one of those who had taken his best friend. He knew those earrings belonged to Legolas – they were standard issue to all the warriors of Mirkwood. Small hoops that would not get caught in anything yet were still attractive. And distinctly elvish – there was nowhere else the man could have gotten them.

Faervel stood dragging the man up with him. "Lead me to him – and no nonsense. Do not think of trying to escape me or of leading me on a merry dance. There are more elves on their way here as we speak." He was bluffing about the reinforcements; he knew the search parties were out there but he had no idea when they would arrive here – still the adan did not need to know that.

Faervel gave one of his knives a dramatic twirl, "If you do try anything in the meantime I will cut off all your extremities. Starting with those nicely adorned ears of yours."

The man's eyes went wide at the threat before he nodded toward the direction he had come from.

"I…I didn't have him with me…b-but I can s-show you where I l-last saw him. But in the name of all the gods elf d-don't cut off my ears."

Faervel smiled nastily, "Less talking, more walking. If you do as I ask you may keep your ears." With that he gave the man a small shove forward and they began to walk in the direction of the Great River.

At length the man spoke up again.

"You…you can have them back if you wish…t-the earrings."

Faervel simply snorted and gave the man another push. Legolas would never want them back, let the adan keep them for all the good they would do him.

~o~

Saveric felt his knees knock as they at last approached the bloody battle field from the previous night. In all honesty he hadn't actually stopped shaking since he'd been threatened by the elf – he was just trembling a lot more visibly now. He slowed to a stop as the scent of blood and death began to waft over to him. He did not want to go any closer than this. The elf could take it from here.

"What have you stopped for adan?"

He was shoved forward again by the elf and he turned round angrily, "We are here or are you blind elf? I do not need to get any closer to that mess. This is where I last saw your elf friend so you can look for him yourself. Now untie me – I have done what you asked."

To his annoyance the elf huffed a little laugh and gave him an even more forceful shove forward.

"You are going to help me search human," another shove, "besides you helped create this mess. So you can help clean it."

Saveric came to a complete halt again, "What?! What on Arda do we have to clean it for?"

The elf sighed as he grabbed his elbow and steered him forward again. "We cannot leave this place in such a filthy state. After all even what is evil should be buried with dignity. Now let's get a move on – and show me exactly where you last saw my friend."

~o~

Saveric glared down at his filthy, once again bound hands. They dripped with the disgusting foul blood of the orcs. The elf was a sadist – he had earlier untied his hands and had instead hobbled him loosely before ordering him to start to make a pile of the orc bodies. Saveric had refused adamantly to even so much as lift a finger until the elf had pressed the cold, hard steel of his dagger against his skull – right behind his ear.

So all afternoon long he dragged the hideous, foul smelling bodies into a pile and fought back the bile that rose in his throat due to the unbearable stench. All the while the elf had done nothing but scan the scene of the massacre and the surrounding area with an arrow loosely knocked in its bow. From time to time the elf would look at him to ensure he was still working.

Such hard work it had been too, he mused sourly, it was really bloody hard dragging a body when your feet where hobbled. Not only that he had a head wound that throbbed and he had already spent the entire morning digging a suitable grave for Samer before dragging him into it. It was a while off from here – far enough away from where he had been so brutally murdered – and it had been hard work getting him there. Saveric had already been tired when he met the elf. He was beyond exhausted now. He just wanted to be freed so he could be alone with his grief – so that he could go and try to get over the gaping hole in his life now that his little brother Samer was gone. Cursed elves.

He looked up and around for the dark haired being that had him tied up – he wanted to get the black scum off his hands now. He also wanted to get the hell away from here before it got dark and those horrible beasts – the orcs – came out to play again.

"Elf – I've helped you all you wanted, now let me go."

The elf was on its knees someway away from the scene of the battle peering down very closely at something or other. It ignored Saveric completely and continued to examine the ground here and there. He would look up from time to time to give their surrounds a quick scan – presumably for danger – before continuing to examine the dirt.

At long last the elf finally stood up and stalked over to him.

"Seeing that there are no bodies of men here or even much mannish blood, added to the way I found you skulking round in the bushes earlier I would say the rest of your number where captured – correct?"

Saveric groaned aloud before answering, "I don't know I guess the others may have been. I fought with your elf friend then when he struck me I decided to play dead."

Saveric pointed to his head wound before he continued, "I had my eyes closed – you know playing dead? So I've no idea where your friend went after that. I don't know about any of the others either. Their bodies aren't here and I didn't see 'em when I decided it was safe to leave."

The elf eyed him up and down but said no more before it turned its back on him once more and resumed its searching.

Saveric could handle no more of waiting around with this deranged elf – he could make a run for it of course but it would be difficult to get very far with his hands so well tied. The elf would cut him down in an instant. No - he'd try and appeal to the elf one more time.

"Elf – let me loose. I been more than fair to you. You didn't even help me with the bodies. Now I've told you everything and shown you everything. Let. Me. Go!"

Saveric realised too late just how harshly his words had come out – but he could hardly be blamed for getting frustrated with the elf. He stepped back a little in fear however when the elf finally turned to face him, murder clear in its eyes.

~o~

"You've been more than fair to me?!" Faervel snapped as he stalked angrily towards the man.

Was the adan serious? He'd helped to capture Legolas and put their entire troop through this hellish ordeal and yet he thought he'd been fair? Faervel saw red as he continued to stalk towards the man who was slinking away from him backwards. Of course as the man wasn't looking where he was going he fell over tripping up on one of the many rocks that scattered these parts. Faervel watched with disgust as the adan tried in vain to get back up without aid of his arms. Faervel turned his back - the man was pathetic.

Yet it seemed he was still defiant as he snarled back at Faervel, "Yes I have been fair. Helping you find your stupid blonde friend. Who's a murderer by the way. He -"

"Silence," Faervel whipped round to glare at the man who had managed to sit up, "Do not speak of him. You don't know him. You have no right to -"

"I have every right elf! He murdered my brother! And I don't know why you still care about that feral blonde elf – he's dead. The orcs took him and -"

A soft thud abruptly ended the man's sentence as his body hit the ground. Faervel grit his teeth in annoyance before he walked up to the adan and pulled his dagger free from his neck, before using it to slit his throat and free the man from his wretched existence. He sighed then as he wiped his blade clean on the man's clothes. He always felt a prick of guilt whenever he ended a life – no matter how worthless or evil. He gazed down at the man's dead body for a moment more before hauling him over to where the orcs had been piled and dumping him on top. Let that which was evil burn together, he distractedly mused. He looked at the man's bloodied face again – Faervel wasn't even sure if his initial intentions had been to kill the man or secure him to face justice later.

He just hadn't been able to bear hearing the man's ravings against Legolas. To liken his kind hearted friend to a murderer – that had been too much for Faervel. Legolas was no murderer – despite the darkness they fought against every day and the countless evil minions whose lives he had ended Faervel knew that Legolas too felt guilt with each kill. He was no cold blooded murdering monster. He was his friend, one of the very best and despite all that Legolas had been through he still had the same joyous and mischievous sparkle in his eyes as when Faervel had first met him as a cheeky little elfling yéni ago.

~o~

Faervel stopped and clutched at his head which had just been hit by something quite firm from above. Faervel watched as the something came to a stop a few feet away from him. Hmm – an apple. Curious the dark haired elfling looked up into the tree he was under wondering where it could have come from. He started as he saw a blonde elfling perched in the branches above him.

"Sorry," the elfling smiled at him showing off a gap in his otherwise perfect teeth. "I didn't mean to hit you. It just slipped."

Faervel smiled at how the other lisped his words and bent to retrieve the fallen apple before holding it upwards, "Its ok - here you can have it back."

"I can't reach you'll have to come up – and be quick about it too," the little elf took a furtive look around, "Hurry or you'll give away my hiding place."

Faervel scrambled up the tree which was a bit more difficult than usual with an apple clutched in his small, chubby hand. He panted as he made it up into the branch where the other elfling sat.

"So who are you hiding from?" Faervel questioned as he handed over the apple.

The blonde elfling took it with a smile and gave it a quick shine on his shirt before he leaned in conspiratorially "I'm hiding from my new nanny – I don't like her."

The elfling fished around in a small bag at his side, "Here you can have this one. It's not bruised."

Faervel took the apple with a quick le hannon and bit into it with relish. "My name's Faervel by the way," he mumbled round a mouthful of juicy apple.

Bright blue eyes alight with joy and mischief sparkled at him then, "My name's Legolas."

~o~

Faervel gave a small wistful smile at the memory – he and Legolas had gotten into awful trouble in the end after having stayed out so late that the King himself had come to look for them. The punishment he'd been given had been no deterrent against him becoming fast friends with Legolas and they had been inseparable ever since. Faervel shook the fond memories off and returned to harsh reality – he was till to find Legolas.

Satisfied that the clearing was as clean as it was going to get Faervel lit the make-shift pyre. He gave the area one quick look over again. He hadn't really seen anything that pointed to where Legolas had gone. There was no sign of him here now, although Faervel could tell he had been there at some point judging by the clean slit throats he'd spied on a number of orcs. The cuts were clean and precise – exactly like they'd been taught during warrior training – Legolas had been there in the heat of the battle.

Where are you now Las? Faervel gazed up at the mountains that were beginning to look more ominous as the afternoon waned on. He hated to admit it but it looked very likely that Legolas had yet again been captured. One injured elf against all those orcs – Faervel looked back at the fairly large pyre; it didn't look promising at all. He looked up at the mountains again. It would be folly to go up into them on his own – he really ought to either go back and find the search parties or wait for them to catch him up.

Yet he was going to do neither. He knew from bitter experience what it was to be at the non-existent mercy of the glamhoth. He would not leave Legolas to that fate for even a minute more than was necessary. Mind made up he ripped a long strip from his white undershirt before he neatly cut the very tip of his left index finger. With the resulting blood he hastily sketched a quick message: The Mountains, Faervel. Pleased with the bloody message which had not smeared as much as he'd feared he took out two arrows and wrapped the strip around one. Faervel then stuck the two arrows firmly into the ground so that they made a cross directly in front the blazing pyre. They were far away enough not to catch fire themselves but close enough so that any wood elves that came this way would not miss the calling card. It was typically used by the elves of the Wood after victorious battles as a warning to the Evil One's minions that they would bring bloody death to all dark creatures. It was usually done with spears but this would have to do – he'd left his spears with Rafn. Hopefully the search party would see it and recognise it for the symbol it was and come closer to investigate.

That done he gripped his twin daggers and set off at a brisk jog toward the looming shadows of the Misty Mountains. He wanted to be in the Mountains and hopefully find shelter before darkness fell. He desperately missed the comforting canopy of the Wood and he really did not want to be out here on the plains, exposed in the open when it got dark. He stretched his senses as far as they would go, his body completely on high alert.

Please Valar guide my steps, he prayed fervently, let me find Las alive.

~o~

Legolas jerked awake and looked around him frantically as his groggy mind tried and failed to identify where he currently was. Panic began to rise within him until recent events came rushing back to him along with the full force of his pain. Yes, he was in a cave – resting (hiding) away from the orcs. He blinked a couple times in an attempt to clear the fog from his eyes and mind. The cave came into clearer view and Legolas scanned it quickly; dagger clutched tightly in his good arm and was relieved to find that he was still its only occupant.

Satisfied in his safety for the moment he paused to take stock of his many hurts and ease those that he could. Of course his shoulder hurt the worse – a sharp, stabbing pain that throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He shifted minutely in an attempt to ease the pain that was nearly breath taking. Stupid, cursed shoulder, he muttered aloud. First the spider bite, then he'd managed to fall on it and of course luck had it so that he'd been shot in the same shoulder as well. Gingerly he flexed the fingers of his left arm and was happy to see them wiggle around even if the action did cause pain to shoot up through his arm. The fact he could move them meant there was no significant nerve damage – good. Bracing himself he stretched out both arms in front of him. Again he was happy that he had movement in his left arm but the pain was starting to make him feel faint. He'd better hurry and do what he could.

With much fumbling Legolas managed to cut more long strips from his from his rapidly shrinking undershirt. These he wrapped gently round his cut and split palms as he prayed the many small cuts and nicks were not infected. He would have loved to have been able to wash his hands in cool, soothing water but alas for him – the men had frisked him well. He had none of his pouches, water skins or other gear he usually travelled with – there would be no pain relief unfortunately.

It took him far longer than he would have liked to get his palms properly bandaged and he was left shuddering from the effort. The cut on his lower left arm had bled through the bandage he'd placed on it the previous night but he had no more strips and he was unable to reach the upper half of his shirt without considerable pain. The cut would have to wait until he could get proper medical help – at least it was no longer bleeding. All that was left now was the troublesome bolt in his shoulder. It was stopping the bleeding yet at the same time leaving it in place for so long could lead to infection. Legolas was certain now that the bolt was not poisoned – he would have felt the effects by now or most likely would have woken up somewhere very different – namely Mandos' Halls. The biggest problem presented by the bolt in his shoulder was the cumbersome shaft sticking out of it. It was long and Legolas could just about see the greasy black feathers used as fletching when he turned his neck.

Legolas knew he would not be able to withstand the pain and pull the bolt out of his shoulder himself with one hand. Besides that would do more harm than good – he could very easily damage his shoulder irreparably as well as loose precious amounts of blood. No the best he could hope to do was to snap off the shaft and leave the arrow head in place. That way the shaft would no longer be a painful hindrance and the arrowhead would keep him from bleeding out too much.

Decision made Legolas began to ponder how exactly he was going to snap off the sturdy cross bolt shaft – it was fairly thick after all. He would not be able to snap if off with his right hand; that much was certain. He considered his quandary for a few minutes more before he got an idea. Legolas stood up to look around his cave for what he needed and was dismayed to find that he swayed as he stood. His legs felt shaky and weak and he had to take a moment to steady himself before he was able to move off and begin his search.

He did not have far to look – he promptly found a crack in the cave wall that was big enough for his need. Legolas placed the handle of his dagger in his mouth and held it between his teeth; this would hurt and he could not afford to cry out and be heard. With a deep breath to brace himself Legolas jammed the shaft into the crevice as far as it would go and gave a quick twist to the left. With a loud crack the shaft snapped in two and Legolas sank to his knees; his right hand gripped just below his shoulder tightly and his teeth were firmly clamped around the hilt of his knife. Still that did not stop the small whimpers that left him as Legolas tried his best to breath and master the pain that felt as though his arm had been torn off. His plan had worked – his body weight had been enough to break the shaft once it was trapped within the crack but Valar how it hurt.

He trembled violently and his head touched the cool cave floor as bowed low in his pain. Ai Elbereth, he choked, anno dulu enni.

It was only the feel of warm blood trickling down his back and arm that brought him out of his pain filled stupor. Legolas gently eased himself back upright so that he was kneeling. Then after taking another deep breath to steel himself he reached behind to see how much of the shaft he'd managed to snap off. He winced at the jolt of pain that shot through his arm when he touched the bolt but was very pleased that only a small stump of about two inches remained. That was much better – he'd be able to manoeuvre himself a bit more easily without worrying over the long shaft sticking out of his back. He turned round and eyed it dispassionately where it was wedged in the crack in the cave wall before he turned his attention back to the wound in his shoulder.

It was bleeding quite a lot more than it had been and Legolas was worried about the steady stream of blood running down his back and arm. He watched morbidly fascinated as it began to drip from his fingertips and onto the cave floor before he huffed in an aggrieved way. He'd clearly dislodged or loosened the arrow tip when he broke off the shaft. He was loathe to push it back in though – that would most likely worsen the bleeding and further damage his shoulder.

Nay, he would have to try and bandage it with what remained of his undershirt.

It took a great amount of fumbling and a nearly mind numbing amount of pain for Legolas to wriggle out of his tunic and then his undershirt. At least the edain had done him a favour in stripping him of his light armour – that would have been hell to remove in his current state.

His next battle to bind the wound practically one handed took a huge amount of effort and struggle but finally he was done. Rather than bother tearing what remained of the shirt into strips he'd used the whole thing as one big bandage and wound it round and round his arm, fastening it as best he could. It would have to do for he could certainly do no more. He was exhausted and cold not to mention he was starting to finally feel the first pangs of hunger – it seemed like an age had passed since he had last eaten. He warily pulled on his tunic with hands that were shaking so badly that he couldn't seem do up the buttons.

Legolas let out a frustrated sigh as he again attempted to do up at least one button – he was so damn cold.

That's when he heard it.

A high pitched chittering reached his ears and he blinked. Surely it could not already be dark could it? Buttons abandoned he gripped his dagger in his right hand and cautiously made his way to the lip of the cave and looked out. It was pitch dark outside. Valar – had so much time passed whilst he'd been tending his wounds? Or had he just woken from his unintended slumber late in the day? Legolas cursed himself for not thinking to check the time of day as soon as he had gotten up. All he'd been able to focus on was his injuries and how much pain he was in. It was understandable but he still should have kept a better eye on his surroundings – especially as he was deep in enemy territory now.

The high pitched babbling reached him again and Legolas nearly groaned aloud. It was closer this time and steadily getting louder – heading his way.

Crazed cackling joined in with the chatter and Legolas tightened his grip on his dagger. He knew what kind of creature chattered in such an awful high pitched voice and laughed in such a maniacal manner.

Goblins. Goblins were headed his way.

TBC.

Adan – Man

Yéni – (Quenya) Elvish measure of time equalling 144 years. Plural of yén

Le Hannon – Thanks

Glamhoth – Din horde; yelling horde- Sindarin for Orcs

Anno dulu enni – Help me

Edain – (Plural of Adan) Men

Horses:

Rafn – Faervel's horse – (Sindarin) Winged