Legolas rode through farmland, forest, mountains, hills and open grassland. He forded rivers and streams. The girl in his care waxed delirious and awake at times. She continued to scream hoarsely for 'them' to leave her alone. He grew heavy lidded with lack of sleep. At times, he ran out of Kingsfoil so he had to make detours to find some. That's when the lines of black from her wounds widened and grew, and she grew clammy with fever and sweat. The thing that Legolas was waiting for in dread was for signs that her belly was swelling with an unnatural child and he wept with a sense of reprieve when her courses came. At least that was spared her.

Finally, he arrived at the borders of Lothlorien, almost crying with relief. Here, Galadriel would have an idea what to do. He was a warrior, not a healer and this was far beyond his feeble capabilities. Brianna stirred in his arms, and the blanket covering her slipped. Gently, he rewrapped it around her legs, and let the horse walk instead of canter or trot for the first time in weeks. It snorted and hung its head in fatigue. Legolas was a far cry from the handsomely debonair Elf he had been before he met Brianna. His eyes were sunk into his head and ringed with black circles of exhaustion. His usually fine blond hair was lank with sweat and grease because he hadn't taken the time to wash it. His mouth didn't smile and his eyes did not dance. His clothes were dirty, sweat stained and torn at the edges. He had nearly run out of arrows. He was thin because he hadn't eaten much in his anxiety over Brianna.

He longed for somebody to come and say that it was all fine now, they would look after Brianna and that he could rest. Just to rest and not have to worry. To wake up and have Brianna laughing and smiling and alive with no knowledge of pain. For her eyes to lose that look that gave one the sensation of looking into dark pools of pain never ending, with something ugly lurking at the bottom with the sediment. He couldn't sleep properly for the fear that she would get his dagger and try to slit her wrists again, or run away into the wild countryside.

His horse was passing under the green branches of the Lothlorien woods. The shade was welcome on his skin. He smiled; he could hear the trees whispering a welcome to his forlorn spirit. The smile momentarily lightened his now drawn expression. He gently urged his horse into a faster walk as he entered the realm of Galadriel, the Lady of the Woods.