They soon entered a forest, through which they would have to travel in order to reach the Gap of Rohan. Nithanien, Edredhel, and Legolas all had their bows ready and nocked, prepared for any sort of attack.
Nithanien, who strode farthest front, let out a soft, bird-like whistle. Legolas motioned for all the others to stop, and then he and Edredhel quickly joined their friend.
"A battalion of orcs," Nithanien's shoulders sagged and his voice nearly cracked, "And they are from Mirkwood. They carry the cloaks of Mierawen and Imarades on stakes before them."
"I am glad that Tiranien is not here to see this, for his heart would have shattered at this sight," Legolas' sharp eyesight found the slowly moving group of creatures that seemed to know exactly where they were, "We must hurry, for they will find our trail if we do not."
The three elves strode back to the group, and Legolas announced, "There is a battalion of orcs, forty in number, heading this way. We have confirmed them to be of Mirkwood."
"How do you know this?" Boromir asked, his shield resting comfortably on his back.
"They—" For once, Legolas was empty of words, "They carry the cloaks of my advisor and Tiranien's betrothed on stakes before their company. We have identified them thus."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Gimli growled, "Let us hasten to the Mountains."
The Fellowship of Eight seemed, to Legolas, to be missing something, "I feel as if there were something missing from your Fellowship."
"Your Fellowship? Legolas, you are the ninth member of our Company of the Ring," Gandalf leaned against his staff, "And, as such, you have been deemed so by Elrond himself."
"Let us avoid death, and then take the time to ponder the words of the lord of Rivendell, hmm?" Aragorn broke in suddenly, "It will not do us good to go forward and be captured."
Legolas held back a growl of anger, remembering that he was not in Mirkwood anymore. Instead, he knocked an arrow and let it fly.
The orc scrabbled uselessly at the shaft lodged in its throat as it died.
"Then let us go forward, my friends, and be caught by the flanking of the orcs," The elvish prince glared, "For there is no worse death then that of a torture at the hands of the Mirkwood defilers. Nithanien, Edredhel, lead them around while I dispose of the body."
"Be cautious, my prince, for they are far more adept in tracking the scent of their own," After his words of warning, Edredhel ran to catch up to the now quickly moving Fellowship, led by Nithanien.
"We meet at the edge of the River Loudwater!" Legolas called softly, and his friend nodded to affirm that he understood. Then, he turned to the task at hand.
It did not take long to hide the body, but the stench of the orcish blood and sweat was almost overwhelming. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remove the stench from his hands. If that smell was so strong, they could track him easily…
The sounds of heavily breathing, growling orcs came closer. The elf prince suddenly felt hunted, like he did in Mirkwood, trapped, smothered…
His breath became short as his own buried fears surfaced. But he could not fail!
The panic that overtook his proved to be a driving source. He broke away from the hiding place and ran as fast as his elvish legs could take him, following the trail of his friends, towards the River Loudwater.
The cry of discovery rang behind him as a scout stumbled over the hastily hidden body of his friend. A war cry ensued as the orcs turned, the whole battalion spinning to pursue their new prey.
Legolas only prayed that they had reached the shores of the River, even Aragorn, the stubborn, bull-headed human. From there, they could easily escape cross-river.
An arrow shot past his head. A quick glance behind him nearly caused himself to stumble.
Some rode wolves, which he could not outrun.
Ahead, the inviting sunlight glimmered of the surface of the still distant river. An arrow shot past his ear, the fletching burning his skin. He dodged to one side as another arrow shot past his right…
…And ran straight into another arrow.
The shaft buried itself in his arm, above the back of his elbow. Legolas cried out in pain, but did not stop, though his feet stumbled. The orcs were much smarter than he gave them credit for. Such a simple pincher attack and he had missed it.
He broke free from the forest and spun, shooting arrows off rapidly. Wolves fell, and their riders followed. Other riders leapt over the dead bodies, intent on the hunt. The black arrow that stuck from his arm pained him as they drew near.
Legolas glanced back at the river. Here, there was a great, sloping bank, one that, if he fell, he would not stop until he was either dashed on the rocks or plunged into the water.
A wolf dove at him, knocking his own rider off in the process. The fangs locked onto his arms.
The blue fletched arrows of Nithanien flew through the air, slicing the wolf's throat. But the attack had done its damage. Legolas was thrown back, over the edge of the slope. He slid most of the way, on his back, headfirst. The arrow shaft in his arm was caught in the dirt and snapped off, just above the arrowhead.
Fate was fickle with his life, for behind him, a large rock loomed. If he avoided it, he might be safe and land in the water, but if he hit it, he could be unconscious by the time he hit the surface of the river.
Fate must hate him.
He hit the rock, solidly, his head contacting with the stone. The wolf's body soon followed him into the water of the river.
"Legolas!"
Nithanien cried out, his face a visage of fear. He did not care if the dwarf could see him grieve. He strapped his bow to his back and plummeted down the side of the slope, staying on his feet. He executed a perfect dive into the water, near where his prince had disappeared.
Edredhel watched fearfully from where he ran, close to the edge of the river. He waited, searching for any sign of his friends.
Aragorn and Boromir soon reached his side.
"Has he found him yet?" Boromir demanded.
Nithanien resurfaced, about twenty feet offshore, "I could not find him! He is gone!"
Edredhel's face fell. He bent to help his friend out of the water when a clear laugh rang over the water. The two elves and two humans looked up, gazing across the width of the Riven Loudwater.
Legolas leaned against a tree, laughing. He held his injured arm tightly, "I am honored that you hold my life in such high respect, my friends! Nithanien, I had no idea that you could dive that well!"
Boromir began to chuckle and took his leave. While he strode up the slope, Aragorn followed, shaking his head in disbelief and slight peevishness. Legolas dove into the water and swam back to their side. Edredhel and Nithanien helped him out of the water.
"I do thank you for trying to save me," He nodded to his friends, then winced, his eyes narrowing in pain.
"It is a painful wound, but it should heal quite soon," Nithanien stated stiffly.
"Ah, my friend, do not seem so angry," Legolas sighed, his mood of gaiety disappearing quickly, "The battalion of orcs will be overcoming us at any time. We must move on, across the river."
A few miles down, the Fellowship crossed over an old wooden log. Gimli hacked off the roots and shoved it to float downriver, so as to cut off the orcs' route to their side of the river.
"That was a foolish feat you attempted, Legolas," Aragorn walked beside him.
"It was not a feat at all, merely a maneuver of survival," the elven prince's eyes narrowed as he fingered the cloth he wrapped around his elbow wound.
"No matter what the name, it was a stupid thing to do," The heir of Isildur seemed angry, "You could have been killed, and then what? We return to your father and tell him that foolhardiness, not orcs, killed his son?"
The rage of Mirkwood flared in Legolas' blood. He spun and backhanded Aragorn across the face, angry, "You speak of thing that you do not know! Death would have been a far better fate for me, had it come during the Battle of the Five Armies!"
By now, everyone had stopped and begun to stare as the two faced off.
"Have you ever felt the depression of guilt as you fight, knowing that there is no chance that victory can be yours?" Legolas said quietly, his face emotionless, "Have you touched the depths of grief and cried because a death of sorrow would not come? Or that an arrow did not take your life?"
Aragorn was silent as he wiped blood from a broken lip.
"I care not for you, for the dwarf, nor for any creature in this Fellowship," He spat out the last word, "I am here because I have sworn to protect the Ringbearer with my bow, and with my life."
"Legolas, let it go," Nithanien and Edredhel stood beside their prince, "He does not understand."
The three elves turned away and began to walk. The hobbits followed soon after, then Boromir and Gimli followed. Gandalf hesitated for a second, the continued, leaving Aragorn to choose whether he was to follow or stay.
Many days later, they reached a large grouping of white rocks, where they decided to rest for a while. Boromir playfully sparred with Merry and Pippin, while Sam and Frodo sat by, watching. Aragorn called out advice every once in a while.
Gimli conversed tersely with Gandalf, leaving the three elves to stand alone, separated from the others.
"You did not need to strike him," Edredhel insisted.
"I was just angry," Legolas sighed.
"You said we must act like elves, in civilization, and, around these, we are in civilization," Nithanien said, "We cannot allow our anger to overtake us."
Legolas looked out across the hills and mountains, "I will no longer live by instinct."
"What?" Nithanien looked at him strangely.
"We have been living by instinct for so long, that is what has been keeping me from truly becoming my calm, serene self," He peered at the horizon and uncrossed his arms, "Nithanien, Edredhel, tell me what you see."
Three pairs of elven eyes gazed at the clouds, inquiring at the strange, black shaped cloud that seemed to move against the wind.
"Crebaine! From Dunland!" Legolas cried, raising the alarm. Everyone's eyes spotted the strange cloud. The disbanding of camp moved quickly, until all traces of their stay was erased. They hid, hoping to avoid the eyes of the crow-spies.
They passed soon after.
"The passage south is being watched," Gandalf sighed, "We cannot take the Gap of Rohan, for Saruman could yet be watching."
Saruman…
All three elves knew that name well.
"We must take the pass of Caradhras!"
The snow blew angrily at Boromir's face as he trudged through the deadly snow. What had he been thinking?
That was just it. I was not, He chastised himself, I was not thinking. I will avoid that Ring, else it lead me to my destruction. He had become transfixed by that bloody Ring before, and it seemed to call to him. It was demonic, and he wanted no part of it anymore.
"Boromir, can you continue?"
The voice of Edredhel, one of the elves, broke into his thoughts. It was the same elf who had snatched the Ring from the snow before he had a chance to stoop and pick it up. He had watched this elf hand it over to the Halfling with no more thought to it being anything more than a mere gesture.
"Aye, I have been through worse," He nodded and continued to trudge on, envying the elvish ability to walk on the snow.
"I believe you," Edredhel straightened and kept walking.
Boromir noticed that something was terribly wrong. Legolas and Nithanien had stopped before them, listening intently to the wind.
"There is a foul voice on the air," Legolas said over the wind's cry.
"It is Saruman!" Gandalf cried as the words suddenly became very clear.
There was a great rumbling, and Legolas had to dive out of the way of a falling rock. Nithanien nimbly avoided it. Gandalf rose to the top of the snow, standing on a boulder, his staff outstretched to the elements.
He cried out in some ancient tongue, calling for a spell to counteract Saruman's powers. Instead, a loud crack was heard, and a landfall of thousands of pounds of snow began to rush towards their heads. Legolas dove forward to pull Gandalf back from the edge.
Boromir jumped forward to protect the two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, before the avalanche overtook him as well.
It pressed in all around him, cutting off his air. He was suffocating.
He felt the weight being slowly lifted from him then hands gently grabbed at his shoulders. He and the two hobbits were dug out by a concerned looking Edredhel, who carefully pulled the hobbits from his grasp.
"Thank you," He pulled his shield from the snow and dusted it off as more snow was driven into his face.
"We must make for the Gap of Rohan!" He cried.
Legolas spun when he heard Boromir's words. The Gap…
"No!" Gandalf said, adamant.
"We must get off this mountain, Gandalf!" Aragorn insisted, "Saruman's power is too strong here! We cannot prevail at his mercy!"
Gimli called out, "If we cannot go over the mountain, let us go under it! Let go through the Mines of Moria!"
Gandalf sat in silence. Everyone waited in silence for him to make a decision. Both Edredhel and Nithanien had never seen, nor heard of the Mines, but Legolas had both heard and seen of them. The memories of that place were deadly.
Legolas searched the eyes of all that were there. The hobbits were suffering quietly, though Pippin let out a sniffle every so often. The humans, Aragorn and Boromir, were stalwart fellows, struggling on to they knew not what end.
Gimli, of course, stood half buried under the snow, as no one had yet to fully drag him out. Nithanien had done little to merely get his head above the suffocating blanket.
"Let the Ringbearer decide."