Chapter 9

As it turned out, it was only the small fire that Legolas had built that saved them that night. The four scouts had run into another hunting party of their fellow Mirkwood Elves soon after leaving the first group. As they continued on to the Palace, the four beseeched the party to search out and give aid to Nondil and the rest.

It was late into the night when one of the Elves sighted the flames. Calling to his group, the Elves stumbled onto a sight that none wanted to see. The smell had indeed called loudly to a pack of wolves, and they were just starting to stalk into the clearing. They reached the fallen children first, stepping onto and over the bodies, looking for live meat before anything else. The animals did not sense the labored rising and falling of the two humans' chests, but the Elves could hear ribs breaking from the path. Wasting no more time, the group notched arrows and dispatched the predators.

Rekindling the fire, the warriors swore under their breath collectively, and wished that there were at least one healer among them. Blood was abundant on the forest floor, and even the fair Elves looked too pale for comfort's sake. Knowing that they had to risk moving the group, each hunter took one of the injured in their arms and made their way to where they had left the horses, only to find them gone.

Cursing any of the Valar they could think of, and then moving onto the equine race, the warriors began the trek home, hoping beyond hope that Illuvitar would turn his attention back to them.

King Thranduil was not happy to hear the news. The humans he could deal with, because they were friends of his son and Strider. The fact they had injured among them was what concerned him. From what he had been told, Legolas had not been seriously injured, but Strider had been. He sent immediate word to Lord Elrond to inform him that his healing skills may be needed.

He had been told that Elral's party had turned back to help them, and what their arrival time should be, barring no more trouble. When that time came and went, Thranduil, himself, set out with his royal guard and healers to bring the injured back.

Elral and the Mirkwood warriors knew that they didn't have much time, but didn't know what else to do. They had no idea where the horses had fled to, and intended to find them as soon as their charges were safe. Another evening was coming upon them when they knew that Illuvitar had abandoned them completely, for once again, the cry of Orcs filled the air.

Groaning, the warriors split off in two groups, one to stave off the attack and one to protect the injured. Building a large fire and brandishing torches from it, everyone who was conscious watched and waited. It did not take long for the attacking group of Elves to retreat back and hope that together they would have a better chance at survival, for the sake of the injured, if not for their own.

When the Orcs saw the firebrands, they became more angered and aggressive, wanting to dispatch with the foul Elves who barred them from an evening meal. They outnumbered the fair beings four to one, and did not sense any need to worry. Brandishing their axes and scimitars against the group, they parried and thrusted until their foes were completely on the defensive, mindful of those they had sworn to protect.

More Orcs than he thought any Elf should suffer themselves to be around surrounded Elral. Holding both daggers tightly, he spun, catching one Orc's throat and another's stomach in one fluid movement. Cutting the odds down to three, he was holding his own, until he forgot what his surroundings held. Falling to his knees over the she-Elf he had been protecting, he waited for the strike to fall, ending both his life and hers, when he felt something heavy fall on his back, the Orcs blade barely missing his arm and burying itself into the ground, grazing his charge's shoulder. He could only hope it wasn't poisoned as he wondered who or what had felled the beast.

He was surprised to hear the King's voice ring through the woods. The Orcs were easily shot down with the size of the king's contingent.

"Tend to the wounded," he ordered. The healers rushed to the many wounded and the King remained on his horse, surveying the scene. It had been many years indeed that he had seen such carnage. He sent a scout to find a better place to make up camp, away from the blood and one that they could defend themselves from attack. He then dismounted and went to find his son.

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Lord Elrond was summoned from his study, when an urgent message came from Mirkwood. He looked at it and rushed to find Gandalf.

Gandalf was enjoying the quiet of the Halls of Fire when he beheld a sight that he had not had the opportunity of seeing in a long time: a completely flustered and frantic Lord Elrond.

"Mithrandir, we need to go to Mirkwood," was the only sentence the Maiar understood fully. The rest of what he heard amounted to "all...hurt...mortal." Wasting no more time, the Maiar raced for the doors, the Elf Lord at his heels.

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Thranduil was acting much like the Imladris Lord, as he couldn't find his son with any of the healers. He saw that the humans were by far the worst off, and wondered what his son was doing with two children, humans at that. He saw that Strider was being hovered over by at least four healers, and that worried him. On second glance, however, showed him that there were only three healers, and a very concerned son of his. Lifting Legolas to his feet, and noting his disheveled appearance, he pulled the 'Elfling' into his embrace before leading him, protesting, to another healer.

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Mithrandir reached the doors, and flung them open, to get outside. Elrond actually almost ran into him, as the wizard stopped abruptly and motioned for the Elf Lord to be still. After about five minutes, a butterfly happened by and Gandalf caught it in his hands. He spoke to it in a language Elrond didn't understand and then set it free.

"Get all the supplies you need Elrond," the Gray Wanderer said. "We will leave as soon as Gwaihir arrives."

Elrond nodded and headed into the house. He didn't want to pack too much and offend the Great Eagle with the burden, but he wanted to make sure he had enough. The message from Thranduil was urgent, and he needed to reach them as quickly as he could.

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As Thranduil led his son to a healer, he asked, "What were you doing traveling with children? And where are your horses?"

Legolas just looked at his father and smiled. "Can we discuss this later?" He asked. "It's a long story, Ada. Let me see to my friends first, and then I will tell you."

"No, ion nin, you are hurt as well, and you need to be seen to. Your friends will be seen to, all of them. I know you are concerned for all of them, but you will be no help to them if you have collapsed from your own injuries. I will post guards on you if need be." Thranduil turned to two of his own guards, and told them that in no uncertain terms was the Prince allowed to move until the healers gave him leave to do so.

He then turned to the other healers. "I do not care who you are looking after, be it human or Elf, you are to give them the same care as if you were caring for my son. None will die in this clearing tonight. Do you all understand?" He watched as they nodded and turned to his son. "All right?"

Legolas, looking rather defeated, slumped to the ground, letting the pain overcome him. He would not take his eyes off of his friends, however, and was not paying attention when the healer was asking him questions. Turning to the Elf that was binding his arm, he finally asked. "Did you say something?"

"No, Prince Legolas, I only pulled a tooth from the bone in your arm, nothing you should have taken note of after all."

"Oh." The decree to remain seated was forgotten as he heard Selinde cry out.

Legolas rushed past those who were supposed to keep him still. The healer tending him, followed behind. King Thranduil was not far behind, glaring at those who were supposed to keep his son still. He knelt by Selinde and spoke softly to her.

"Selinde, calm down, it's Legolas." He spoke soothingly into the she-Elf's ear, trying to brush the healers away. Selinde stirred and turned to the voice.

"I thought they said my sight would get better, if I stayed away from the walnuts. Legolas, I can't see again." Legolas looked at the healer who pointed to a nasty wound on Selinde's head.

"I'm sure it is just temporary Selinde. These healers are from my father's palace, let them help you, okay?" Selinde nodded and lay back down.

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The giant Eagle flew into Imladris and took Mithrandir and Lord Elrond to Mirkwood. When they found that King Thranduil had gone, Gwaihir lifted off once again, looking for the others.

Setting down in the forest, Lord Elrond was not pleased at what he saw. More specifically, at the sight of only one of his 'children', blood or otherwise, up and walking. He was petrified. It had been a long time since he had been this fearful for anyone, and the fact that there were now seven that he was worried for did not help matters. Kneeling next to his human son, he surveyed the damage.

Aragorn was pale, and the bruises and gashes were accented against the whiteness of his face. He was lying on his stomach, and the marks from the whip were standing out blatantly through the tattered tunic. Binding those and steeling himself against the inevitable, he turned the Man over. Even through his stoicism, he could not stifle the gasp as it left his lips. Aragorn's stomach and chest were covered in gashes, and though none were too serious on their own, the combination of those and the ones on his back had made blood loss a serious threat. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he left the healers with some athelas, and hoped that Gandalf was faring better with Elladan.

He wasn't, and wondered if Illuvitar truly had abandoned Elrond and his charges. Elladan's eyes were closed, and his pulse was thready, attesting to the grave nature of his own injuries. He too had a multitude of gashes, but the most serious was a set of claw marks that dug deeply into his back, exposing his floating ribs.

Gandalf bound those, and knew that they would have more work to do at the Palace with those injuries. He turned to the younger twin to see similar injuries. *Of course,* he thought, *alike even to the point of pain.*

Elrond had moved on to the next closest human, seeing that Tanad had fared rather well, for a gravely injured, unconscious human that was. Slightly less pale than the rest, Tanad was more bruised and broken, and less cut. The wargs who had used him as a pathway had broken at least 4 of his ribs, and the purple mark on his head was a cause of great concern. The healer knew that he, like the others, would have a long healing process ahead of him.

The Maiar and the Lord met over the crumpled form of Kaolith, and could only think that she had already suffered so much. Amongst her many injuries, the Ranger looked like a combination of all the rest. They could tell that many of her ribs were broken, the gash across her stomach had not yet stopped bleeding, her head was covered in marks, and her shoulder looked as if it would need to be re-set. It was when they finally tried to move her to Gwaihir that she awoke and cried out.

Legolas ran to her side, but she was panicking in the company of all Elves. Looking around, she could not see a familiar face, even though several surrounded her. Legolas looked to Selinde, who had stumbled over to her, and saw the guilt in her eyes. She was behind the child, and her eyes were drawn to the still bleeding arrow wound.

To the Reviewers:

TC – Evil? Nah, and do they survive? I guess they have to if we want to finish the fic, but really, do you think we'd make it so they didn't? OK, don't answer that one…umm…yeah, hope you enjoyed…

Kar – Kill everyone? *Ponders that* nope, then we couldn't write anymore!!! And you'd miss the cliffies too much, you know you would.  Did someone say Dilemma? I wanna see!!!

Sparx – See Sparx, we only aim to please.  We hurt em cuz you all like it *looks at other reviewers* and don't anyone deny it…don't think this chappy helped much, but it should get better *cough* worse *cough*…

Cathy – Us? Evil authors? NEVER!!!  Of course Orcs and wargs, d'uh, when in doubt, make it worse!!  I think we skirted the angst with that…umm…maybe…Estel's fine…errr, he will be…I think…hehehehehe…they're all hurt worst!!! *runs off*

Cowgirl­ – We torture them too much? One can do that? Hmm, must contemplate that one…anyway, they'll have to catch us before they can get revenge on us, and we'll always have the pens to write them out of evil moods and into…..yeah, finish that thought accordingly…