Thank you to everyone who posted! Sarah and I are really pleased that you're liking it already : )

Well Chloe we're just going to hope that you don't go and read our story and until then we'll hide all existing documents ; )

As for Aragorn being the better tracker on the plains, we felt like he was because in TTT he was the only one who tracked Merry and Pippin across the plains at all and we felt like Legolas couldn't *possibly* be good at *everything* ; )

Sorry we left you on a cliffy already! Hope this clears it up a bit!

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Death or Despair

By Sarah and Hannah

(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries

available at the top of chapter 1)

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Chapter 2

Fire, Smoke and Wolves

Casting the bundle of wood aside, Legolas drew out his bow and turned his face swiftly back towards the distant camp site. A faint rustle and a breath of air behind him was all the warning he had. Spinning in place, his sharp eyes cutting through the darkness like twin daggers, he loosed the arrow almost before his mind realized what had sprung at him. The feathered shaft caught the creature in the chest, throwing it backwards with a snarling howl, and then another shape identical to it leapt for the elf's head. Drawing a second arrow even as he stepped back, he loosed it directly for the horrible thing's eye and then stepped further aside as the dead body, carried on by the tremendous momentum of it's jump, hurtled past him and tumbled to the earth. He had been correct: they were wolves.

A long howl rent the night air and the elf could hear the horrible snarls and battle yells that marked his friend's own fight with the awful beasts carried to him on the wind. Taking to his heals before a third animal could arrive to hinder him, he sped through the waving grass and shrubs, dark blue in the dim moonlight, towards the distant orange glow and dark shapes standing out against it.

Aragorn had taken up a fighting stance in the middle of the ring of light, his back to the fire, his sword in one hand, and a burning brand in the other. Even as the elf came close enough to clearly see what was happening, a more foolhardy animal made a direct spring for the man and was first stabbed in the chest, and then slammed backwards by a mighty thrust with the torch. For a little it rolled frantically on the grass to rid it's coat of the searing flames, and then it's heart gave out and it lay still. No one had time to notice, for Aragorn was too busy with two more that had come in towards his legs, Legolas was trying to shoot his way through the circle to help his friend, and the wolves were discovering that their prey was not as helpless as it had first appeared. Still they fought on, a mad animal fury burning in their eyes; slashing, leaping, taking advantage of any gap in the companions' defenses.

Running in swiftly, one wolf landed it's front paws on Legolas' shoulders, trying to pull him onto his back and leave his throat open for a killing bite. Pulling the last arrow from his quiver, Legolas stabbed it backwards into the head of the creature, stumbling as the weight lifted from him and the animal tumbled nearly under his feet, tripping him up. Stringing the still bloody arrow onto his bow, he gave one last shot into the darkness, aiming for the glistening of teeth, and was rewarded with a silent thud as the animal died instantly, the shaft having penetrated it's brain through the roof of it's mouth. Casting the worthless bow aside, Legolas drew his knives and slashed twice, the first thrust slitting the throat of one wolf, the second missing and taking off an ear instead. With a growl the injured carnivore sprang directly for the elf's chest.

Aragorn plunged the brand unswervingly between one wolf's eyes, not reveling in the hideous yells and animal cursings, but not having time to think beyond the here and now either. Swinging his blade low, he caught a large beast's front paws, removing one and disabling the other, sending the creature nose first into the grass. From beyond the ring of bodies, he had seen Legolas running to his aid, but now he could not tell where the elf had gone. Spinning round the slowly dwindling fire, the ranger thrust out his boot to stop the inrush of another brute, slamming his glowing brand into it's side and sending it tumbling away, it's coat also on fire. Then he saw a flash of swinging gold as, just beyond the light, Legolas spun away from the ferocious leap of one slavering animal. As the elf moved, his foot caught on the body of one of the fallen beasts and his motion was slowed, not taking him out of the wolf's path swiftly enough.

As the wolf caught his side in passing, it's claws dug in briefly and Legolas felt a sudden pain shoot straight through him. Trying to move around to face the animal, he nonetheless knew that the wolf would have righted itself already and he did not have enough time to turn. Even as he made the effort, he felt the change in the air as the hairy beast sprang at him again, a hoarse yell of triumph in it's throat. And then there was a flash of flame as a spinning torch flew out of no where, end over end, and caught the wolf directly in the side of it's head, changing it's triumph to yowling pain as it fell away.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull, Legolas took several lightening steps forward and, with a spring, landed next to his friend, who was already stooping to lift another brand from the fire. "Many thanks." The elf greeted briefly and the human nodded in return, drawing his blade back and thrusting it forward to catch one wolf in the throat before swinging it back and cleaving a second beast's neck nearly in two.

Closer to the fire the wolves were not quite as active, fearing the yellow flames and the scorching kiss of the Dúnadan's weapon, but still they leapt inwards, driven near mad with hunger and rage. And the fire was dying down. Legolas wished desperately for the bundle of kindling he'd abandoned out in the wind and shadows, but it was beyond recovery, and even as he slew yet another wolf and kicked it's body aside, one of the last pieces of wood still flaming broke in a shower of sparks. The flame died down into red embers and the wind drove away the sparks, flickering and dying in the dark night. With the light lessened, the pack closed in, snarling and snapping.

One swing of his sword caught at least three of the creatures, but a fourth bounded over the red coals and sank it's teeth into the man's shoulder, causing him to jerk and nearly fall into the small fire. Leaning forward, feeling the fangs tear painfully free of his shoulder, Aragorn nearly fell on his hands and knees as the wolf finally released him and tumbled backwards. There was a screaming yowl as the animal fell into the embers, it's coat igniting and the smell of burning flesh filling the air before it too was driven away by the wind.

Working furiously, Legolas tried to keep his friend covered while he rose, but there were too many and they were coming too fast. Two leaping at the elf at once drove him to the earth, one's snapping jaws coming within a hair's width of latching onto Legolas' neck. Then, in quick succession, the second wolf attacked it's own companion in a vicious desire to claim the prize for it's own, and, even as it won it's victory, the elf's knife sank into it's belly. Rolling quickly aside to avoid being pinned, Legolas slid to his feet again.

Trying to regain his balance even as he defended his life, Aragorn wondered vaguely what his brothers would say about this vindication of their worries when they found out what had happened. If they ever did. Then from three sides there came the rush of hairy bodies, one flying towards his legs, hoping to drag him down, the second and third both coming straight for his midsection. Simultaneously stabbing downwards to halt the rush of the first one, and throwing his brand directly into the open mouth of the second, he had only just brought his blade out to face the third when it slammed into him. Gasping as the breath left his body, he felt the claws as they dug into his chest and waited for the final tear that would remove his throat and end his life. The wolf holding him down wasn't moving. Looking up with a faint puzzlement, Aragorn found himself confronted with wide open jaws, rows of yellow teeth, saliva still dripping from them, a brilliantly red tongue — and two clouded eyes.

Even as he flung away one of his daggers in a last attempt to keep himself from being overrun, Legolas could feel the sense of the pack changing. They seemed to be shifting, changing direction, and a moment later, with many a snarling howl, they slunk off through the grass, turning on their own wounded as a source of food instead. Breathing deeply, both from relief and sudden weariness, he turned to find his friend.

For a moment Legolas feared that the young man was dead, but then he caught sight of the glittering tip of the ranger's sword protruding from the large wolf's back. A moment later the body shifted as it's intended prey struggled out from under it. Helping to lift the creature, though it pained his side, Legolas assisted his friend to his feet and glanced at the dead carnivore. "That was a fine thrust, Strider."

Aragorn managed the ghost of a clipped laugh, his own chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, "I could not have done it without this fine animal's aid: he was so eager for my throat that he neglected to notice what stood in between him and his goal."

Legolas shook his head, eyebrows rising faintly, "Well, I must say, if I ever doubted the stars you were born under, I never will again."

For a moment they remained where they were, the wind whistling past their ears. Around them they could see the bodies of at least thirty wolves, and could only guess at the number hidden by the grass; their many carcasses telling of a great pack. It was astonishing, Aragorn knew, that he and Legolas were not both dead.

Each turning back to look at his heavily bloodied friend, the human and the elf nearly asked the same question at the same time.

"How much of that is yours?"

Aragorn gave a wry smile, finding it easier than he would have thought, "Not much. Still, we should probably clean ourselves up before settling down for the night. Wolf bites can become easily infected."

Shoving the corpses roughly away, Legolas left to retrieve the wood he had abandoned and Aragorn searched in his torn pack for some of the medicines his father always insisted that he carry. Using the light from the renewed flames, the two companions bound each other's wounds, trying to make light of their hurts for the other's benefit, and not fooling one another at all. Putting a last touch on Legolas' bandaged side, Aragorn helped him to refasten his tunic as well as he could with a stiff shoulder.

"A more handsome pair you could never hope to see." The Dúnadan commented dryly. "And you *did* manage to track something after all."

The elf sighed, "Aragorn, must you bring that up?"

Chuckling softly, the young man consoled his friend, "You have to begin somewhere, Legolas. I began with Elladan: you should consider yourself fortunate. Now let us sleep. There will be no more attacks tonight, not with our recent victory surrounding us." He nodded his head lightly towards the dead wolves.

Legolas agreed, finding himself too weary to protest. It was a strange sensation to him, as elves very seldom became weary in that way, but he had lost more blood than he knew, and the past days of travel had prevented him from sleeping as often as he should have. Lying down with their backs to the fire and their retrieved weapons close at hand, the two friends dropped off into a sound slumber.

On towards morning the fire had nearly died out, but, unnoticed, some of the long, green grasses had leaned inwards to rest on the embers. There was no sound as they smoldered quietly, but a long stream of smoke began to rise lazily upwards.

TBC…