I screwed up majorly and posted the chapter ahead of this first. Terribly sorry to all of you who read that one first. And thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews!

~Didn't you know that?~ the young wolf said cheerfully. ~I guess humans really are as stupid as she said.~

Snowfire made a scornful noise. ~Songblade spent forty years as their slave. She ought to know.~ The wolf glared at Legolas. ~Female or not, that wound needs to be tended to. Heal my packmate, trapsetter.~

Recovering from the shock, Legolas gave her a slight smile as he knelt beside the wounded elf. "I believe Aragorn set the trap that caught you, Snowfire."

~I do not care.~

"Kind sort, isn't she?" Aragorn muttered.

~She's not very nice,~ Sunrunner whispered. ~But you do need to heal Songblade. We couldn't stand to lose her after all this time...~ His voice trailed off, and he looked away. ~She was with us when my mother was a pup—when her mother was a pup. She went through so much with our pack. We love her.~

Legolas pushed the bandaging away from Sadron's wound, which was clearly infected. The flesh around the long, deep cut was red and warm to the touch. Aragorn looked over Sunrunner's shoulder and whistled in awe. "How did he—she manage to run—let alone fight and swim—with that?"

~She is a wolf,~ Snowfire said, as if that explained everything, just as Legolas, in the exact same tone, answered, "She is an elf." They exchanged a look, and the elf continued. "You are a better healer than I, son of Elrond."

"Why do people only call me that when they want me to heal someone?"

"I do not only call you that then."

"Yes, you do! Otherwise it's 'son of Arathorn'!"

"I usually call you 'Aragorn'."

"But when you're talking about my father—"

~Silence!~ Nightwind snarled. ~Just heal her, unnamed one.~

"He has plenty of names, I assure you," Legolas pointed out as Aragorn tentatively inspected Sadron's wound.

~He does not have a wolf-name.~

"'Strider' is almost a wolf-name."

~'Strider'? I suppose it will have to do. And what of you, elf? What shall we call you?~

"My name means 'Greenleaf'."

~Greenleaf?~ Sunrunner cocked his head to one side. ~You're not green.~

~Your wolf-name is not Greenleaf,~ Nightwind assured the elf. ~We will find it someday.~

"Legolas, there's a shard of the blade embedded in here," Aragorn announced. "It must have scraped along her ribs and chipped off. Can you get it out while I hold her? Your hands are steadier."

Legolas nodded. "Where is the shard?"

"About here." Aragorn pointed to the center of the jagged cut. He settled himself behind Sadron and held her. "Get it out."

Legolas took a deep breath and drew his knife. "I hope this is clean enough."

"It's an elven blade; it should be alright."

He gently set the tip against Sadron's side and began to probe the wound, trying to find the exact location of the poisonous shard. She stifled a cry and began to struggle. Aragorn clamped his arms around her. "Hurry! She's stronger than she looks!"

Legolas found the shard. and drove his blade in slowly, trying to pry it out. Sadron screamed. The wolves looked on anxiously, pacing back and forth.

"I have it!"

Legolas held up a slender bit of metal, about two inches long, in one bloodstained hand. Aragorn let Sadron go. She swung her fist up and hit him in the eye. "Ouch!" he yelped, clapping a hand to his face.

Legolas bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Has the bandaging in my pack dried yet?" the ranger gritted as he pressed his free hand against Sadron's wound to stop the bleeding.

"Here." The elf-prince passed it to him.

"Thanks." He bound up the wound efficiently. "She should be alright now—but when she wakes up, she'll have some questions to answer."

*          *            *

Sadron woke up the next morning as Aragorn and Legolas were cooking breakfast—the remains of last night's deer, the side that hadn't been dragged halfway across the forest by a wolf pack. She put a hand to her side, noticing the new bandaging, and the fact that her breasts were no longer bound flat. She didn't have time to say anything before the wolves mobbed her, making sure their beloved packmate was well.

"You're up at last," the ranger noted dryly as Sadron's pack finally backed off. She noticed that he had a black eye, and wondered absentmindedly what he'd done to himself. "You had us frightened for a while there."

Sadron didn't say anything. She draped her arm around Stardance, twining her fingers in the wolf-queen's fur.

"Sadron?"

"It's Sadroniel," she murmured. "You might as well know now."

"Sadroniel, then."

"What happened after you told me of Arathorn's death?" she asked, much subdued.

~You began to live in the past,~ Stardance told her. ~You cried out for Wildheart and cursed Tharad.~ Sadroniel's jaw tightened at the name. ~The elf Legolas who has to be named removed the splinter of poisoned iron from your wound, and Strider bound it up.~

Sadroniel looked up sharply. "You healed me? Why?"

Aragorn frowned quizzically. "Why not? You saved my life."

"Shame," Legolas muttered. Aragorn threw a stick at him.

"I—did?"

"In the lake. Not only did you get rid of the sword that would have weighed me down, but you dragged me and Snowfire out of the water."

"Snowfire and me," Legolas corrected.

"Count on you to correct my grammar when we're out in the middle of nowhere," Aragorn snapped.

"A king must be well-spoken," the elf said elegantly. "Even an uncrowned one."

"A gellam," was the muttered reply.

Sadroniel smiled in spite of herself. Her companions smiled back.

"I fear I must ask you a delicate question," Legolas began. "You don't have to answer."

"What?" Sadroniel looked suspicious.

"What happened to you?"

She didn't say anything for a long time, and Aragorn began to fear that Legolas had offended her. But then she spoke, and she told them everything.