Chapter 11

Losing Hope (Losing Kalan as well?)

"No!" Frodo screamed and struggled against Boromir's arms. The man hefted the hobbit up and turned, yelling at the others to get out. The orcs were gathering once more, shooting their arrows down at the group.

Kalan stood there, unable to move. Shock, grief and pain were all mingled on his still glowing face. "Kalan! Come on we must leave!" he faintly heard Aragorn's voice come to him, though he seemed miles away. The others were already up the stair, almost outside. Kalan's face changed, anger replaced shock, hate replaced grief, but the pain remained. He reached back to draw his sword once more, but a strong hand closed over his own. An arm snaked around his shoulders, turning him around. Legolas's face loomed before him.

"You cannot help him now, Kalan. We must go, the quest still remains. Do as you said to Gimli: honor him with the success of this mission," gray-green eyes searched silver ones. The elf pulled the half- dragon along with him, arrows striking the stone behind them.

Sunlight hit them full in the face as the Fellowship stumbled out of Moria. Merry and Pippin had fallen to the ground together, Merry gently holding the other as sobs wracked his small frame. Sam hid his face in his hands as he, too, wept. Boromir restrained Gimli who fought to return to the mines and fight the orcs single-handed. Legolas released the youth; the elf was grieved and distressed, but not willing to cry.

Kalan, too, did not weep, yet he stumbled forth upon the rocks, looking this way and that. Frodo walked on his own, away from the group, tears streaming down his cheeks. Kalan watched the hobbit, a strange look on his face. He then turned to look at the others, taking in all the emotions. Suddenly, a shudder ran through his body and the glow faded from his skin and hair. His head snapped back and he cried out softly in pain. He fell forward onto hands and knees. The wings once more folded and shrank, drawing back into the boy's body. "Legolas, get them up," Aragorn's voice carried over the wind. He walked over the Sam and set the hobbit on his feet as the elf went to Merry and Pippin. Boromir turned to the ranger in anger.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" he cried, anguish on his face. Aragorn swept his arm out, motioning to the surrounding land.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs," he pointed out over the rocks to the south. "We must make for the woods of Lothlorien." Indeed a dense forest could be seen in the distance. Legolas raised the other two hobbits to their feet and Aragorn went after Frodo, calling him back. Hesitantly he did so, tears still falling slowly.

Legolas looked around and caught sight of Kalan, still crouched on the ground, his body quivering. The elf jogged over to him, and gasped as he neared. A large pool of blood, red with a silvery hue, was gathering under the boy. His once glowing skin was deathly pale. Kalan shook once more as the skin closed over the wings.

"Aragorn!" Legolas called over his shoulder then he knelt beside the boy. Kalan shook uncontrollably, his hand going to his wounded shoulder. Legolas gently pulled his friend onto his side and back to lean against his own chest. Aragorn and the others had joined him, Kalan quivered, his silver eyes clouded over. Aragorn and Frodo knelt on either side of him; the hobbit took one of Kalan's hands between his own. Aragorn grasped the shaft of the offending arrow protruding from Kalan's right shoulder.

"This will hurt," he said softly, Kalan nodded. Legolas gently had Kalan open his mouth and placed a piece of leather between his teeth. Then he grasped the boy around his chest, just under the wound, he felt Kalan brace himself. With one quick, deft pull, Aragorn drew the arrow out of Kalan's shoulder. Kalan screamed through clenched teeth and the leather. Legolas tightened his hold around him, as did Frodo with Kalan's hand, trying to ease some of the pain. Aragorn pressed against the wound, this time with a thick leather glove. He studied the arrowhead for a few seconds before he threw it away. "Damn, its poisoned," he growled. Kalan spit out the leather and gasped in a huge breath. "Frodo, tear off a long piece of Kalan's cloak," ordered Aragorn, Frodo released Kalan's hand to do so. "Luckily, I have some athelas to counter the poison, but you still need healing, the arrow was inside too long," he drew out two leaves from his bag and chewed them in his mouth until they were a moist paste. He drew Kalan's tunic down, revealing the ugly, bleeding wound. He pressed the mass to into the hole, causing Kalan to jerk in pain, but Legolas held him firmly.

Aragorn took the strip of cloth from Frodo and tightly bound the herbs to the wound. Kalan began to shake again and Frodo took his hand once more. He remembered all too clearly when he had been in this state, after being stabbed on Weathertop. Kalan's hand felt cold and he rubbed the limp fingers, trying to bring life back into them.

"He's lost too much blood, Aragorn, changing like that didn't help either," Legolas said softly in elvish. Aragorn nodded. "The elves in Lorien can help him, but we must move quickly," he answered, returning to common. Kalan' eyes cleared slightly and he struggled to rise.

"We must go, the orcs - coming of night," he managed to gasp out. His strength failed him and he collapsed back against the elf.

"He cant even stand, how is he supposed to run," said Legolas in a strained voice. He gently smoothed the dark hair away from Kalan's face, noticing then how warm his skin was, telling of the fever burning inside. Merry and Pippin watched, helpless and frightened as their new close friend squirmed in pain and moaned. Kalan coughed and once again tried to rise.

"Yes - yes I can, I must." he fell once more against Legolas, the elf tried to hush him, gently stroking his hair.

"Strap him to my back," Boromir stepped forward, "he is not too heavy, 'tis the least I can do to repay him for everything he has done." He looked down kindly at the quivering youth, no longer the strong half- dragon, just Kalan, hurt and exhausted. Aragorn nodded and Boromir knelt, his back facing Kalan. With the help of Legolas, Aragorn made a sort of harness out of their rope. Ignoring Kalan's weak protests, they tied him into it, and then strapped him to Boromir's strong back.

"You don't have to," Kalan whispered into the man's ear. Boromir brought Kalan's arms around his shoulders and stood as if the youth weighed next to nothing. Then he whispered back.

"Yes I do, friends don't leave each other behind, now hush," he said as they began to walk swiftly. Kalan had little choice in the matter, for he fainted, his head lolling against Boromir's muscled shoulder.