A/N: Hey all! Well this chapter sure took me a while to finish! Sorry for posting it so late in the day. I had family visiting, so I didn't want to be a bad host and spend most of my time writing! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'll admit, that writing through the action parts were somewhat challenging, because I wanted to make sure that small details were mentioned and stressed for effect. Let me know how I did by leaving me a review eh? Of course, if there any other q's that you guys have, please ask it in a review. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Don't forget to Favorite&Follow to keep up to date for when the next chapter is dropped! Also, just a reminder to all my followers, I will not be posting a chapter next week, and in turn will be trying my hand at posting two chapters at once the following week! Thanks again for reading and I hope you guys enjoy!

Namárië,

Tasarin

Chapter 20: Hounds of Saruman

We carried on our path down the mountain well into the evening and by the time we reached the swelling of a hill, Gandalf called us to council and for rest. We would make camp and rest for the night with a sentry of two at a time to guard at a time while the others slept. We sat around in a close circle, in deep discussion of which road to take, since the option of returning to Rivendell would undoubtedly bring ruin to the elven haven.

"There is a way that we may attempt," Gandalf spoke hesitantly after several ideas for our next path were given, "I thought from the beginning, when we first considered this journey, that we should try it. But it is not a pleasant way, and I have not spoken of it to the company before. Aragorn was against it, until the pass over the mountains had at least been tried."

"The road that I speak of leads to the mines of Moria." The wizard finished as he cast his eyes round about the company. Gimli visibly brightened at the mention of his cousin's halls, while the rest of the company settled into a silence of dread.

Even with my rudimentary knowledge of the history of middle earth that Erestor had taught me, I knew that Moria had a dark history of fear. Would we really travel through it? A shiver skittered down my spine at the thought of having to travel underground in the dark. I looked up at the slightly veiled sky. The stars sparkled in the ink; their light shone softly and brought comfort to my wearied soul. I did not want to part with their brilliance for a dank and dark pass under the mountain.

Voices were raised in protest; mainly Aragorn and Boromir. I tuned them out, finally feeling relaxed enough to feel sleep tug on my conscious mind. I felt arms around my waist and being pulled close to warmth and a strong chest-the smell of spring filling my nose-before my eyes finally glazed with sleep.

…

It hadn't felt like I had been asleep too long when I was roused awake. Legolas held a firm grasp around my waist as he lifted me to stand against him from where we had all huddled.

"We must move to higher ground, Mellon. Wargs prowl in the darkness and we need more cover if we are to wait for the dawn safely." Legolas' breath whispered past my ear. The warmth of it seeping into the skin on the shell of my ear. I nodded, now fully awake from the mention of the wargs and hearing the piercing howls mixed in the wind.

We moved further up the hill until we found a copse of old, gnarled trees and took refuge among them, lighting a fire to keep the beasts away. We stayed close to the fire and watched warily into the shadows. All around us, howls ripped through the air. Sometimes choruses of wolfish cries in unison sounded, and other times one lonely call. It was hard for me to tell just where they were. They seemed to encroach on us and then fade back into the shadows; as if they were testing which side would be best to attack from.

I sat in between the Ranger and Legolas. Aragorn held his sword tightly with bone white fingers and a fierce scowl on his face. Legolas leaned back against one of the twisted trees, one hand curled around his bow, while the other held a single arrow from his quiver perfectly still and notched. His stance was tense, and ready. I held my dagger close to my chest, willing my heart to calm as one particular howl sounded not far behind where I sat.

I stole quick glances at the faces that were lit by our flickering fire's light. Each face was set into different degrees of fear or anxiety. Even poor Bill, nickered and stomped with nervous energy.

A deep growl sounded close behind me and I whirled around just in time to catch a glimpse of black fur before I was pulled back roughly to fall onto my butt. With a wet mangled growl and a sharp whistle through the air, the black wolf fell to the ground dead before my feet; a single arrow stuck out from its neck.

"Holy Hell!" I jumped away from the beast just as its nasty tongue lolled out of its mouth. Had I stayed where I sat, my feet would have been covered in drool and blood. I shuddered at the felled beast.

"A hound of Saruman," Gandalf stood from his spot by the fire, glaring down at the wolf as he passed me, "Keep close to the fire. The night is long, and this will, no doubt, not be the last we see of the Hounds of Saruman."

…

After Legolas dropped the first warg, the night fell back into silence; only the sound of the wind whistling past our ears. We sat close to the fire. Slowly, one by one, the hobbits fell into a light and fitful sleep, leaning against one another in a little pile. I leaned against Legolas' side, fighting the sleep that threatened to glaze over my eyes, and the rest stood facing away from the fire, looking out into the night.

Just as I felt the tug of sleep again, a chorus of howls so loud erupted in the night, and suddenly a host of wolves had us surrounded. My heart hammered in my ribcage as I stood, pulling out my dagger and holding it close in my unsure and unpracticed hands.

"Fling fuel on the fire! Draw your blades and stand back to back!" Gandalf bellowed to the hobbits. They obeyed his words and watched the wolves with terror filled eyes. The fire roared to life with the added fuel and licked high into the sky, casting angry orange and red light to dance wildly in the wind. Gandalf pulled me back towards the fire and then-along with Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir-formed a protective ring around us just as the first wave of wolves attacked.

Carnage-An utter blood-bath took place before my eyes. Aragorn swung his sword with deadly accuracy; stabbing, cutting. Boromir, with his strength, cleaved several heads clean off. Gimli swung his axe with reckless abandon, knocking back wolves and bashing in skulls. Legolas' bow string sung and strummed, his arrows finding their marks with deadly accuracy. I couldn't take my eyes off of the elf. My heart raced with each time he tumbled and flipped out of the way mere seconds before a warg had snapped his razor sharp jaws.

Suddenly my head cracked against the ground and a heavy mass pushed at my chest, stealing my breath. Rancid hot breath blew into my face and I gagged. My vision darkened around the edges and I stared through stars into hungry, wild eyes of a wolf who had gotten through the company's protective ring. It felt like time slowed; I could see the snarled maw of the wolf open, its sharp muzzled mouth aimed right for my throat. The teeth gleamed wickedly in the firelight, and for a moment, I froze.

Sure Legolas had trained me to be quick and to fight, but I always lost. I always ended up right on my arse. We hadn't even gotten to training with any weapons because we had been rushed to leave Rivendell! I felt a wave of anger at the wolf above me and lifted my dagger to its mouth just in time to stop it from reaching my neck. I fought with all my strength against the wolf as it beared down against my weapon.

"Strider!" One of the hobbits screamed out. Sweat was beading on my brow from my struggle with the beast. My arms shook with effort and threatened to give way, when a wicked crack of bone and a gush of warm wetness blanketed my face.

My suddenly free hands fell limply to my sides like wet noodles and I breathed in heavily. My vision started darkening more as I tried to sit up. The back of my head throbbed and a headache was starting behind my eyes. I looked down through my failing vision down at my wet hands and yelped. Deep red covered everything, my hands completely soaked in the vile life blood of the warg.

I couldn't handle it anymore. I stumbled to the ground and vomited. Someone patted my back with hard and short pats, and I looked up into a gruff bearded face.

"You alright lassie?" Gimli's eyes were filled with pity down at me, handing me a worn kerchief as he watched me grimace at my bloody hands. I took it from his gloved hands gratefully and wiped my mouth. I looked around and stifled a moan, the movement brought on a wave of nausea.

"Tori! What ails you Mellon?" Legolas' anxious voice floated over to us, and suddenly I was lifted up and into his arms. This of course brought on more nausea, and my stomach threatened to let loose its already lightened load. I held my lips together tightly and shook my head, letting out a muffled groan. I rested my head against his collarbone.

"A warg broke through and knocked her down." Gimli answered for me.

"Any injuries?" Legolas directed at Gimli tursly. The dwarf huffed, clearly upsetted by Legolas' cold demeanor.

"Not that I could see. I killed the beast moments ago, I had not the time to do so before you came." Gimli grumbled and walked away.

"Dwarves!" Legolas sighed in exasperation before he whirled around and walked a little ways before settling me down on a bedroll by the fire. I winced as he set my head down gently and he stilled. I opened my eyes, barely catching his shining grey-blue eyes through the fog of hurt before I relaxed enough to finally let the pain take me.

…

I woke to smoke filling my nose. The light that filtered in through the ash stung my eyes. Sometime during the night, the trees had been lit ablaze, of course now only charred stubs. My mouth felt dry and tasted of smoke. As if I slept the whole time with my mouth open. This must be how an ashtray feels. I swallowed dryly around my fuzzy feeling tongue. I struggled to sit up, my head feeling much better than it had, but still sore.

I looked around me, finding only the hobbits sitting around our fire, cooking up some breakfast. The smell of it wafted to my nose, but it sent my stomach rioting in response. I rested on my elbows and frowned, looking around slowly for the rest of the fellowship.

Not seeing any of them, I staggered to stand up and made my way slowly over to the pony and pulled out my med pack. I leaned against Bill, grateful for his support as I rifled through the pack. Finding some herbs that helped with nausea and pain, I found a pair of smooth rocks and ground them together. Once ground into a fine powder, I poured it into my mouth and drank down the bitter powder with water from my waterskin.

I leaned more heavily against the pony and rested my eyes. There was a cool clean breeze that blew against me and I relaxed. To be free of the ash and smoke was heavenly, even if it only lasted a moment.

"How do you fare this morning?" A quiet voice sounded behind me, effectively spooking not only me, but Bill as well. Bill skittered away from me too quickly for me to catch my balance and I fell backwards. Luckily, for me though I landed softly against a hard chest. Silvery gold strands fell into my face and I looked up into light blue eyes.

I frowned and pulled back the curtain of hair that tickled along my neck, "Legolas! Why did you have to sneak up on me and Bill like that?" He chuckled and righted me on my feet.

"It is not my fault that you are so painfully unaware of your surroundings." I knew that his words were meant to tease, but they sobered me, as I thought of just how true they were. I hadn't seen the warg come at me because I was completely distracted watching Legolas fight. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. Watching him fight had filled me with an emotion I couldn't name; it stole the warmth from my blood and left me very uneasy. His eyes darkened and he frowned as he caught the look on my face, "I'm sorry, I did not-," I waved a hand at him.

"No, you're right. I should have been focused." I looked away from his eyes and down at my feet. I had promised myself before leaving Rivendell that I wouldn't be a burden to the company and be the best damn healer there could ever be, but instead it seemed that I was the only one in need of healing; or saving. Warm calloused fingers hooked under my chin and lifted up lightly before resting a hand against one of my cheeks.

His eyes were soft and kind, "The first battle is always hard. No matter how much I have trained you, you would have never been prepared enough for what we have faced. It is very common to freeze in the sight of danger as you did. Do not berate yourself so for the fear of losing your life that you felt last night." I held his gaze for a moment and contemplated his words. I finally nodded and stepped away from him, his hand still outstretched. He smiled one last time at me before he dropped his hand to his side and turned to help pack up the rest of the camp.

I watched his retreating form and lifted a hand absently to the cheek that he had held. Warmth had radiated from his hand down my neck all the way to the pit of my stomach. I'm not sure what the feeling was, but something began to stir in my body. As if awakening for the first time. I looked down at my hand as it began to tingle before looking to the expanse of Legolas' shoulders.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"