Disclaimer: Based on 'The Lord of the Rings', by JRR Tolkien. This is a non-commercial work. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"Window of the Sunset" is the fourth in the Broken Fellowship Series. It is strongly recommended that you read the previous stories first.


The Broken Fellowship, Book IV:

Window of the Sunset

Chapter 3: Master and Servant

by Lizardbeth Johnson


"Legolas, no!"

Sam stared in dismay as the elf's eyes drifted closed and he did not stir. Tentatively Sam held his shaking fingers to Legolas' throat, fearing the worst. But no, he was still alive.

But he wouldn't be for long if Sam didn't stop the bleeding. The lower half of his leather tunic was stained around the knife hilt still protruding from his stomach, and his silver-grey undertunic was sodden. Elf blood looked the same as human, and he figured losing a quantity of it was just as lethal to even an immortal elf.

It never occurred to Sam to do as he had been ordered. He could not take the ring and walk away, leaving his friend to die. He knew that Legolas had meant it. During the elf's moment of delirium, Sam had seen Legolas' eyes glowing that same eerie dark blue as when he had been wearing the ring. It suggested the ring's influence had grown. But he also felt that the ring had struck in the elf's weakened state, but that it did not truly have a hold on him.

He took a roll of soft elvish linen from his pack to use as bandages. He pulled the knife out and pushed the tunics out of the way. Blood welled from the deep cut, and Sam pressed his last folded handkerchief to the wound and then bound it snugly with the linen, around Legolas' waist.

He wished desperately for Aragorn. Strider would know what to do -- he could suggest some medicinal herb or other elvish remedy that would help his elf-friend heal. But, aside from binding it so Legolas didn't bleed to death, Sam didn't know what else to do.

A sudden nudge on his shoulder stirred him back to awareness of what was going on beyond himself and Legolas. The sun had fallen low on the horizon, lighting the high clouds in the sky in dramatic colors of fire.

"Hello, Dúlhach," Sam wearily raised a hand to pat her nose. She let him and then nudged him again, more deliberately grabbing his cloak with her teeth and tugging. "What is it? What do you want?" he asked, wishing that he could read the horse's thoughts.

She stamped a hoof in frustration, then bent her head to grab the bottom edge of his cloak and carry it between her teeth to lay on Legolas' arm.

"Oh! I see!" he immediately opened the leaf clasp and draped his cloak over as much of the elf as it would cover. Sam immediately felt a chill breeze, but it wasn't too bad. He rubbed his arms and glanced thoughtfully up at Dúlhach. "Do you think we were followed?"

She shook her head once, black mane flopping to the other side of her neck.

"Well, that's something. Would you watch him, while I go collect something for a fire? I don't see any trees, but it looks like there's some bushes down the way."

She planted her hooves squarely at Legolas' side and made it plain that she was going nowhere. Her ears swiveled, listening in every direction, for danger.

Sam gathered deadwood off the bushes and last year's bracken at the base of the ridge for as long as the sunlight lasted then built a small fire against the stone wall behind camp. In all that time, Legolas did not stir.

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Sam gazed into the fire, comforted by the sound of Dúlhach chomping at the grass. At least she was able to eat freely here, at the southeastern end of the plains of Rohan. Eventually Dúlhach stopped eating and was still, and Sam thought she had probably gone to sleep.

But he did not. He stayed awake, waiting for any sound from his wounded friend and wondering how it had all gone so wrong.

He remembered what Gandalf had told Frodo, that there was other power in the world other than the will of evil. But it seemed to him that lately Legolas had seen precious little of that.

Glancing up at the stars the elves held so dear, he sought Eärendil. Though he spoke no words aloud, he asked the great elf-lord of the sagas not to let Legolas die.

And not to leave him to finish a quest to Mordor alone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day passed slowly. Legolas did not wake, but the bleeding stopped and Sam did not believe he had changed for the worse either. His skin was still cool to the touch, so it seemed he escaped fever.

While Dúlhach continued to stand guard, Sam collected more wood and went to fill their water skins in a stream. He found some spring dandelions and ate the leaves, curling his nose at the bitter taste.

By the end of the day, Sam had found Legolas' remaining lembas, but despite his growling stomach, Sam put them back in the elf's pouch. If Legolas were truly dying, Sam would eat them, but to do so now might condemn Legolas to death in Mordor if he survived. So Sam tried to ignore his own hunger as much as he could, and thought longingly of the Green Dragon Inn as he drank his broth.

His patience was rewarded when Legolas opened his eyes shortly after sunset.

Sam took his hand and pressed it. "Master Legolas, I'm so glad you're awake!"

Legolas' lips quirked in a soft, weak smile in response. "Water?" he whispered.

"Oh, of course. Forgive me." Sam helped him drink with an arm behind his shoulders so he wouldn't have to use his stomach muscles to lift his head. Legolas sipped at the water.

"That is enough," he said. Truly, he did seem stronger, Sam thought. The color had come back into his face -- though maybe that was the last colors of the sunset -- but his eyes seemed alert and intensely deep. When Dúlhach lowered her head to touch his cheek with her nose affectionately, he raised his injured hand to pat her neck. "Mae govannen, Dúlhach."

"Here, while you're awake," Sam broke off a piece of lembas bread and offered to Legolas. "You should eat."

Legolas fell back to sleep before he had finished the food, but this time it seemed a more natural, healing rest. His long lashes veiled his eyes, but Sam could see the sliver of blue shining beneath them as Legolas sought the sleep of the elves.

Now sure that Legolas wasn't going to die any second, Sam felt more comfortable sleeping, with Dúlhach guarding them.

He awoke before dawn, out of dreams that the fellowship was climbing Caradhras again.

He discovered he had been dreaming of snow, because he was cold. He had curled up beneath his blanket, but that was not enough warmth against the newly arrived frigid wind, blowing in from the northeast.

Though early spring had followed them down the Anduin, now it seemed winter had reasserted its grip.

The fire had died to embers, and so Sam carefully built it up again to a small but cheerfully warm blaze, and he huddled against the rock trying to keep out of the wind.

"Samwise?" Legolas' voice came out of the darkness, startling the hobbit, who had been certain that his injured friend was sleeping.

"You're supposed to be asleep!" Sam accused, but Legolas ignored him.

"You should take your cloak back."

Although the offer was tempting, no Gamgee would take a cloak from a person recovering from a nearly lethal injury. Sam shook his head.

"I do not need it, Sam," Legolas added.

Sam peered at the elf's face by the fire's dim glow, wondering if Legolas were being sacrificial and noble, or if he was telling the truth.

"You're hurt," Sam protested. "You have to stay warm."

There was soft amusement in the elf's voice. "Elves are very resistant to cold. Remember Caradhras? I did not feel the cold, except as a chill breeze."

"But now you're injured."

Legolas gathered up a handful of Sam's elvish cloak where it lay across his chest and held it out. "Take it. I can hear you shivering."

Reluctantly, Sam took it and fastened it back into place around his shoulders. The warmth was welcome, but he kept a close eye on Legolas to check that he was all right, in the cold wind that found its way around the ridge to their little hollow. But Legolas did not react to the sudden loss of the cloak, and Sam hoped that meant he was truly unaffected.

"Thank you," Sam murmured.

Legolas murmured, in a distant voice, "They're out there. I feel them."

"Who's out there?" Sam asked, nervously peering into the dark around them.

Legolas answered, "All of them. Looking for me. He knows." His good hand crept past the edge of his cloak beneath him, and he clutched a handful of grass tightly, as though it was keeping him from falling. He repeated in a whisper, barely audible to Sam's ears. "He knows."

"Who? Sauron?" Sam asked, but there was no answer. Alarmed, he bent close to Legolas, to see that the elf was sleeping again.

Deciding that Legolas wouldn't have fallen asleep if the evil he had felt was very close, Sam went back to his blankets to get some rest himself.

Dawn was dimmed by the low, heavy clouds that spread across the sky, though the wind had lessened in strength, so it was gloomy but not as frigid. Sam performed his now usual morning chores of collecting wood for the fire and finding some greens for himself to eat for breakfast.

When he returned to camp, it was to see Legolas sitting up against the rock wall of their shelter. "Hey!" he rushed forward. "I'm glad to see you up, but are you sure that's wise? It's not even been two whole days. Shouldn't you still be lying down?"

Legolas glanced at him and lifted a hand in greeting. "I am improving, Sam. My kindred heal quickly. Even if I did not, we have no time for a leisurely recovery. Tomorrow we must begin to look for a way to cross the river. I fear being in one place too long."

Sam dumped his load of branches and knelt beside the elf. "Well, you look better," he announced, examining the elf's fair features. "Have you eaten?"

At Legolas' shake of his head, Sam produced the elf's pouch of lembas and handed him a piece.

"And you?" Legolas asked pointedly, as he slowly munched his bread. "What have you been eating?"

"Oh, the last of the partridge and other things, here and there that I could find," Sam shrugged.

The old elvish eyes read him deeply. "Then you should eat some of that as well," he nodded toward the leaf-wrapped bread in Sam's hand. "At least until I can hunt for you again."

"But --"

"Go on, eat," Legolas said and let out a small sigh when Sam still refused. "I know you want to protect me, and I am grateful, but it must not be at your expense. Not when I am far more capable of withstanding hunger and cold than you."

Sam nodded and broke off a small piece of lembas -- about half the size of the piece he had given Legolas. It tasted sweet and surprisingly, when he finished, he no longer felt hungry. "Not bad," he nodded. Legolas gave a flicker of smile in response and finished the rest of his.

That afternoon, Sam helped Legolas change his grey tunic to his spare, with the elf unable to suppress his winces in pain as the motion pulled at the wound. But after he was wearing his clean shirt, he smiled in relief. "It is pleasant not to wear one's own blood."

Realizing that he had never seen the elf wearing anything but clean clothing, despite the fellowship's travels and battle, Sam went to the stream to see if he could get some of the blood out of the tunic. To his surprise, the blood left no stain, washing out completely. Elvish magic, he decided, was the only possible explanation.

When he returned to camp, Sam saw that Legolas had his leather outertunic across his lap, with needle and thread in hand, repairing the knife slash. "Will the blood come out of that too, if I wash it?" Sam asked, laying the tunic on a rock to dry.

Legolas shook his head. "Probably not all. Deer hide absorbs blood, unfortunately. But I would welcome the attempt." He bit off the thread after he knotted it, and held up the tunic for Sam to see. The gash had been sewn up with such small stitches Sam could barely see where the cut had been.

Sam took it and went back to the stream, scrubbing at the dark green leather with sand from the bank. As he worked, he paused, with the sudden feeling that he was being watched. He glanced around him and over his shoulder, and when he saw nothing, eased a finger's width of Sting free of the scabbard to check for orcs. The sword was not glowing.

He pulled the tunic out of the water and rushed back to camp to make sure that Legolas was all right.

The elf was seated exactly where he had been, holding up his unstrung bow and inspecting it for flaws in the flat grey light. All seemed well. Legolas glanced up curiously. "Samwise? Is everything all right?"

Feeling suddenly foolish, with his handful of wet tunic, Sam stammered out, "I -- I had this feeling I was being watched. I thought something might be wrong."

Legolas looked in the direction Sam had just come and lifted his head slightly, as though sniffing the air. He put down the bow and his hand fell on the knife in his weapons harness, which was sitting on the ground beside him. "Gollum," he murmured and did not sound surprised.

"He's close?" Sam asked, moving nearer to Legolas, hand on Sting's hilt. Legolas nodded once.

"I saw him at the village," he offered unexpectedly. "He raised the alarm at my presence. He has caught up to us again."

"I wish he'd stop following us!" Sam exclaimed in frustration "Always lurking out there -- "

"He will never stop following me, Sam," Legolas said, in a voice soft and resigned. "He cannot, for he desires what I possess."

"We have to stop him, or he'll keep giving us away. We'll never get to Mordor if he's always on our heels."

To Sam's puzzlement, he watched as Legolas stroked one finger lightly along the curving hilt of his knife. "Yes," he agreed after a long silence. "Though I would wish otherwise, I think it is time." He glanced up at Sam, with dark resolution in his eyes. "I know what to do."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The evening was just turning to night when the two laid their trap. Dark clouds raced across the shining low half-moon in the eastern sky, so that silvery brightness and shadows moved and entwined like living things along the ground. The fire was banked, and Dúlhach had moved out of sight of the camp.

Sam pretended that he was sleeping, as Legolas did the same next to him. Though Sam's eyes were slitted open to watch, Legolas' looked closed. But Sam knew all his attention was fixed on the stone ridge face above them.

The wind played around the rocks, stirring twigs and leaves, and yet there was a soft scraping sound, which did not match the wind. It was Gollum, padding ever closer to the two companions.

Sam nearly smiled, wondering how Gollum possibly thought he could sneak up on an elf. Besides the fact that Legolas could hear and see better, he could also sense the taint of the ring on Gollum.

But no one could know looking at Legolas that he was awake.

The light scrabbling sounds of Gollum climbing on the stone drew near and then the small creature crept into view, a darker hunched shape outlined by the moonlight on top of the rock directly above Legolas. "Mine," the creature hissed. "Tricksy elveses stole my preciouss..."

Very slowly, almost absolutely silently, Gollum crept down the rock, until he was just a little ways above Legolas, and extended a hand toward the ring which lay on its chain, openly glinting on the elf's chest.

Then it all happened very fast. Legolas grabbed Gollum and flipped him to the ground. But Gollum was stronger than he looked and slithered free. He tried to run, but Sam blocked one route, with Sting leveled in threat. Gollum whirled and tried to go the opposite direction, only to yelp in fright as a large, black shape emerged into his path. Dúlhach trumpeted and reared, hooves slashing the air.

In the moment that Gollum had been frozen by fear of her sudden appearance, Legolas tackled him from behind. But the move was unwise -- Legolas let out a cry at the impact and seemed unable to stop Gollum, as the creature wriggled and struggled, succeeding eventually in flipping them over, so Legolas was on his back.

The elf had one hand clutched around the ring, but otherwise seemed paralyzed, as Gollum's scrawny hands went around his neck. Sam had a terrifying glimpse of Legolas' face -- white as the moon, and creased in agony.

"Stop! Get off him!" Sam threw both arms around Gollum and dragged him off the elf. But it was like trying to hold onto an eel -- Gollum writhed and nearly slipped free. He bit Sam's arm, and in his resulting surprise, Sam fell backward.

Gollum was snatched from his grip with sudden force and thrown to the ground. Sitting up to see what had happened, Sam glimpsed Legolas, kneeling on the creature's chest and arms, one hand around Gollum's neck, and the other holding his knife up in threat. To Sam's shock, Legolas' knife blade was palely glowing, like Sting. Gollum's screams dwindled to a whine of wordless terror, his hands futilely scrabbling in the dirt. Sam felt an unexpected twinge of pity for the creature.

"Silence, little one," Legolas whispered and Sam didn't know what Legolas did, but Gollum fell quiet, staring up at him with giant, mirror-like eyes. The ring dangled from its chain between the two and Gollum's eyes followed it.

"Do you know what happened to the last one who tried to take the ring from me?" Legolas asked Gollum in a lethal purr. "He died."

Sam started, a cold suspicion of what Legolas meant trailing down his back. He abruptly understood Legolas' carrying of Boromir's sword. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to stand beside them. "Legolas! No! You can't!"

"Why not?" Legolas traced the curve of Gollum's jaw with the flat of his blade. His rage was nearly palpable, like a cold wind blowing through their small camp. "Six of my people were slain because of him. Six immortal lives cut short because of his evil."

"Oh," Sam thought frantically of some counter argument. He didn't realize that there had been any deaths when Gollum had escaped Mirkwood. But Legolas couldn't do this, not deliberate murder. It would push him deeper into the ring's influence. "You can't kill him," Sam added desperately, "He can help us. He can. He's been to Mordor. We need what he knows."

Legolas sat back a little, appearing to consider Sam's words. Gollum gurgled something that might have been a plea or agreement. "True," Legolas said. "He could be of use to us. Very well." Then he leaned forward again and slowly brought the knife down to just prick Gollum's chest with it. Gollum let out a thin, wavering cry.

Legolas smiled slightly, and it made Sam shiver. There was little of Legolas and a great deal of hungry anticipation in that smile. "Samwise spares your life, so that you will serve us. But hear me, Sméagol . If you try to steal the ring from me again, if you try to hurt either of us, I will kill you."

The threat was delivered coldly enough that Gollum seemed to believe it. His wide gaze was now fixed on Legolas' face, not the ring, and he nodded frantically, whimpering in fear.

Legolas released his neck, and after making deep coughing sounds in his throat, Gollum whined, "Yes, yes, we swears -- we will serve the master of the Precious. We swears. Let us go, master, bright knife of fierce elves hurts us," he whimpered. "Hurts."

Legolas let Gollum go, and rose to his feet smoothly, resheathing his knife. "Then it is done. Sméagol shall be our guide once we cross the Anduin."

Gollum levered himself up to a squat, glancing up at Legolas and then cowering back down. But he suddenly cackled, laughter that had more sorrow and bitterness in it than humor. "No, no, don't ask poor Sméagol to find the way. Sméagol went away long ago. They took his Precious. And he is lost! Lost!"

Legolas looked down at him, and after a moment his face softened with pity. "No, Sméagol isn't lost," he murmured. "Sméagol has been found. For I knew Sméagol and his people, and I remember what was."

Gollum turned his large eyes up at the elf, and for the first time, Sam saw a trace of the Sméagol who once had lived, before the ring. "Master will be nice to poor Sméagol?" he asked with a hopeful quaver in his voice.

"If Sméagol is nice to us," Legolas answered.

Gollum abruptly threw himself forward, clasping Legolas around the knees. Though both elf and hobbit had weapons ready, Gollum did nothing more. "Master must not go," he pleaded, looking up earnestly, "Ashes, and ashes, and dust there is. And orcs, thousands and thousands of orcses. Bright master elf must not go to the shadows."

Legolas glanced toward Mordor. "We will neither of us be free of him, Sméagol, unless I go. Or Sauron will find it and take it back. The ring must be destroyed to keep it from him." He gently detached himself from Gollum's grip and stepped back. "You know this. You must help us find a way in."

Gollum hesitated and reluctantly bobbed his head in agreement. "He must not gets it," he declared, with surprising force. "No, the Precious must not go to Him."

"No, it must not," Legolas agreed. "And so you will help us. There is a path, is there not? A secret way?"

Gollum flinched and shrank into himself. "Master must not go that way," he said, shaking his head. "No, no."

Legolas went on one knee to better look Gollum in the eyes. "Sméagol, I cannot go through the Morannon. I know nothing passes that way unseen. I need another way. Is there one, perhaps, through Morgulduinnan?"

Gollum shook his head, clutching it miserably between his hands. "No, darkness. Bad things in the darkness. Bright master elf will shine like White Face."

"You need not go in with me, Sméagol, only show me the path. Leave the darkness to me," Legolas said.

Gollum turned large, miserable eyes on him. "Darkness will catch you, Master. The ring will go to Him."

"No. I am of the Firstborn, Sméagol. Darkness shall not catch me. Sauron will not take the ring from me."

A sly smile grew on Gollum's face, but it was not directed at either of his new companions. He straightened and shook a fist toward the east with new defiance. "The Precious will never be His. Bright master elf stops you."

"I will," Legolas added in quiet promise. He returned to his feet and glanced at Sam. "It is early yet. What do you say to a better supper?"

Sam blinked up at him in confusion, rather rattled by both Gollum and Legolas' changing moods.

Legolas explained, "I understand our new companion is quite good at catching fish. Sméagol, can you catch a fish for Samwise?"

"Yesss, master," Gollum bobbed his head as he pulled himself to his regular crouch. "Fish." He bounded away toward the bank of the nearby tributary of the Entwash, singing a song about fish under his breath.

The moment he was gone, Legolas wavered and threw out a hand against the stone wall to hold himself up, with his other hand cradling his wound.

"Legolas!" Sam dashed up to him. "Are you all right? Did your wound open?"

Legolas lifted his hand away and Sam anxiously pulled up the tunics to look at the bandages. There was fresh blood staining the linen. "You have to sit down," he coaxed Legolas back to his place by the fire and helped him down. "I'm going to rewrap this, and then you have to rest."

As he withdrew his materials from his pack, he asked, "Why did you let him go? I didn't want you to kill him, but I don't think you should just let him go either. He's dangerous! You should let me tie him up." He brought out the length of elvish rope and shook it once for Legolas to see.

The elf shrugged slightly. "If he leaves, he will return."

"But at least if we bind him, he can't strangle us in our sleep when he comes back!"

"He fears me, Sam," Legolas murmured and his hand moved up to touch the ring. He then slid the chain back under his tunic. "The ring draws him, but he recognizes that I hold its power. I think he will obey for now."

"'For now'? 'You think'?" Sam repeated anxiously, glancing in the direction of the sounds of splashing water that suggested Gollum was, in fact, trying to catch a fish for supper.

"He will try for the ring again." It was said as a statement of fact, about which Legolas had no doubts. But his gaze was troubled. "I am glad you stopped me, Sam. It was ... a near thing. Thank you."

"Did you --?" Sam started to ask about Boromir and decided he already knew the answer. There was a shadow of guilt around Legolas, and there was no need to increase it by forcing him to explain that he and Boromir had fought over the ring and Boromir had died.

"'Did I' -- what?" Legolas prompted, but warily. He no doubt knew that Sam was thinking about Boromir too.

Sam began to rebandage Legolas' wound, finding less damage that he expected from the tussle. It was bleeding again, but as a slow trickle. "Did you know Gollum in Mirkwood? Is that how you know his name?"

Legolas seemed relieved by the question. "Yes, Gandalf learned his name while Sméagol was imprisoned in my father's halls. He learned that Sméagol had told Sauron of the Shire and the name of Baggins there, and he rushed off to try to save your friend."

Sam swallowed, thinking of Frodo. Legolas continued, eyes distant with memory, "Not long after, a great horde of orcs entered the forest. Such a large force has not dared to go beneath the trees so near the hall for many, many years. Sméagol's guards were slain and he escaped. I and many others of my kin searched months for him throughout the forest, but he was already beyond our reach in Moria, as we know now."

After he had tied off the end of the bandage, Sam went to build up the fire against the damp chill that had settled over camp, and in hope that maybe Gollum actually would bring back a fish.

In a quiet voice, Legolas said, "Sam, we must not allow him to learn how injured I am. So we must leave tomorrow. Along the way, you must look for athelas. It is a small shrub with white flowers and dark leaves --"

"I know what it is," Sam interrupted. "Strider wanted to find some when Frodo was stabbed by the wraith."

Legolas frowned slightly, apparently not having heard that story, but then dismissed it with a quick shake of his head. "Then you know it has healing properties. In truth I do not know whether it grows this far south. There is another plant, I believe in the common tongue it is called lady's foot --"

Sam stared in him in dismay. He knew the plant well -- it had beautiful, slipper-shaped dark pink flowers, but eating one flower or leaf had been known to kill hobbit children. It had been all but eradicated from the Shire as a menace, except Master Bilbo had kept some in his window boxes. "But that's poisonous!"

Legolas shook his head. "To Men. In small amounts it dulls pain for an elf. I dare not show more weakness, or I will have to kill him."

Sam nodded, and had to swallow hard, because he really did understand. Gollum might be ready to obey Legolas for now, but Sam had no doubt that if he sniffed out Legolas' weakness, that willingness would disappear and he would attack to get the ring. Legolas would have to kill him to keep him away.

Sam reflected for a moment how far he had truly come since that day he had unwisely eavesdropped on a wizard. He wondered if his Gaffer would even recognize him when -- if -- he returned to the Shire.

Legolas' gaze was on him, and as if he had read Sam's mind, he murmured, "I will get you home, Samwise, if it is at all within my power. I swear."

Sam forced a smile. "Now, don't you go worrying about that yet. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for now and for a long time to come."

Legolas gave one of his fleeting smiles and then turned his head sharply to the east. "He comes."

Sam tensed and loosened Sting in its scabbard, but didn't draw it. After a moment, he heard a tuneless song and the odd footsteps of Gollum, who was not trying to approach in stealth. He appeared, gamboling about like an eager puppy on long limbs, with a surprisingly large, silver fish held tightly in one hand. He ran straight up to Legolas. "See, Master? Look what good Sméagol has brought? Tasty fish, nice fish," he smacked his lips together and held the fish by its tail as though about to drop it in Legolas' lap.

Legolas pressed his lips together and leaned away from the fish. "Very nice. Please give it to Samwise."

Sam recoiled when Gollum thrust the fish at his face, then took it. "This'll do very nicely. I'll fry it up -- "

"No!" Gollum wailed. "You'll ruin lovely fish with nasty fry, stupid hobbit!"

Sam was about to retort angrily, when Legolas intervened. "Sam, give Sméagol half of the fish. He can eat it however he wants."

Glancing dubiously at Legolas, Sam did so, and tried not to watch or listen as Gollum sank his teeth into the raw fish and chewed with obvious delight. Only after he had chewed off the tail, did it occur to him that Legolas might want some. "Master? Does master want juicy fish?"

Sam could've sworn Legolas turned slightly greenish around the edge of his pallor. Still, he answered politely, "No, thank you. It is all yours. I have my own." He held up a small piece of lembas.

Gollum cocked his head to one side and blinked. "What food does master have?"

"Lembas," Legolas explained and broke off a corner. He held it out in his hand. "Go ahead, try some. I don't believe we ever offered you any in the forest."

Gollum sidled near, took one sideways look at the lembas, and snatched it from Legolas' open palm. Sam suppressed a smile, thinking it reminded him of taming a bird to eat from one's hand. Except of course, birds were unlikely to slit their throats if they saw a moment's advantage.

Gollum sniffed at the bread. "Smells of elveses it does," he muttered dubiously, and put it in his mouth. He almost immediately spat it out again, and coughed violently as if he was about to be sick. "Ashes! Choking dust and ashes! Master can keep his nasty bread. Sweet fish, juicy fish is for Sméagol."

Pouting, Gollum went to the far side of camp and chewed on his fish. Sam expected to share a wry look with Legolas, but the elf was looking at the lembas bread in his hand with an odd expression.

Sam cooked his fish and ate it, relieved to have some other food in his stomach. Perhaps with Gollum around, Legolas wouldn't need to hunt for Sam and could concentrate on healing himself.

Then he glanced at Gollum, still sucking happily on the fish bones, and a chill foreboding slipped down his spine. Nothing else had gone right on this quest -- why should this?



Continued in Chapter 4: On Dark Wings