Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

The twins were gone before I rose the next morning. I was glad, in a way. The farther away from Elladan I could stay, the better it would be—although not nearly as entertaining. Somewhere in my mind, I remembered dreaming vaguely of Elven lips upon my brow and a soft whisper of farewell. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to shake the silly thoughts from my mind. Of course it had been just a dream. Hadn't it?

I went through what was now my morning routine of greeting Mother Nature, splashing in whatever water source we happened to be near—in this case the Bruinen—and seeing to my morning tea. Gimli was up before me, gnawing at some leftovers from the birds we had cooked the night before. Legolas was elsewhere, as usual.

"Ai!" Legolas shouted from the brush. "Sweet Eru!"

Gimli and I looked at each other. "Legolas, what in the name of Aule are you shrieking about?" Gimli yelled.

Legolas emerged from the brush, twisting his torso every few steps, to look down toward the back of one of his legs.

"I did not shriek," he said with a frown. "It was nothing; it just startled me."

"What startled you?" Gimli asked. "And why are you cavorting around? Can you not walk straight any more?"

Legolas straightened up and glared at Gimli. "I do not cavort," he retorted. "I stepped on an adder. Only Eru knows how I did not sense him being there."

"An adder?" I asked, becoming concerned. "Are you sure?"

"I have the fang marks in my leg, I am sure, if you care to look," he said, unkindly.

"Well," I said, mocking him, "I would care to look, so sit down right where you are and I will."

"Since when have you been granted leave to give orders to me?" he asked belligerently.

"Since I am the healer of the group, and you are the one who needs the healing," I answered, with equal belligerence. I pointed to the ground at his feet, reiterating silently my command that he sit.

"I need not your healing," he said with quiet conviction. He continued to stand, defiance screaming from his expression.

Gimli decided to intervene in our latest disagreement. "Legolas, an adder bite can be very serious. Now quit acting as a child and allow Maeren to tend to it."

"I need not her healing," he repeated, a bit louder; this time aimed at Gimli with an unyielding frown.

Trying to make his friend see reason, Gimli calmed his tone and said, "Legolas, the venom will likely make you very sick." I thought he had finished in his trying to convince the Elf, but he added, "It could kill you, you brainless Elf!" What had started out as a kind, soothing statement, had ended as a stern, loud one.

"I need not her healing!" Legolas shouted stubbornly. "The bite of an adder will not make an Elf sick."

I could not stand his obstinacy any longer. "Since you are an Elf, perhaps the venom will skip the illness entirely and just kill you outright!" I yelled. He glared at me. "Now sit you down and expose your leg to me, or I shall expose it for you! Do you understand?" I hoped he would not call my bluff. I had no idea how I would begin to expose his leg without his total cooperation.

Thank Eru he sat. However, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me defiantly—just as he must have looked as an Elfling. I could not help myself; I started laughing and I could not stop. The picture of a full grown Elf—one that was at least a thousand years old, mind you—sitting there pouting, was hysterical.

Gimli soon joined me. Who can resist the contagion of another's laughter? Legolas tried very hard to keep his countenance stony, but he was losing the battle. The tiny contortions his face was going through, trying to keep itself straight, only increased my laughter. He finally stood and turned to leave. I immediately stopped laughing and called him back.

"Legolas, please do not go," I said, trying to stop the catch in my voice. "I am very afraid for you. Please, tell me truly, are you just being stubborn or does the bite of an adder really have no effect on an Elf?"

He stopped and turned back toward me. His face had taken on an uneasy expression. His voice was no longer belligerent. "I am just being stubborn, and I believe I am going to have to allow you to look at this bite. I am beginning to feel decidedly unwell." He blinked his eyes, widening them as if it would help him to see better. When he started to sway, Gimli and I both ran to keep him from landing in the dirt.

Gimli and I slowly lowered the Elf to the ground. "Where did the adder bite you, Legolas?" I asked quietly and much more gently than I had been speaking to him just a few moments before.

He took a deep breath and said, "In the back my right leg, a few inches below my knee."

I knelt beside Legolas, grabbing a bedroll that had been rolled again for travel, but not yet stowed on a horse. I placed this under his head. The ground was hard and grassless here. Since he was lying on his back, I nudged at his side, trying to get him to roll over, so I could have better access to the back of his leg. Gimli joined me, as soon as he realized what my intent was, and it was at his insistence that Legolas allowed himself to be moved. Why was he so boneheaded?

Gimli was so concerned. I already knew they were very good friends, but I hadn't realized the depth of their friendship. Even though they seemed to keep the air hot between them with exchanged insults half the time, the worry now shown by Gimli was obvious.

"Gimli, can you help me take off his boot?" I asked.

We pulled and tugged at his boot, which seemed almost adhered to his foot. It dawned on me that his leg was already starting to swell. My alarm was increasing. A glance at the Elf's face compounded my fear. Legolas was always fairly pale, but he was ashen now and sweat was beading on his forehead.

"Legolas," Gimli asked with frustration, "is there some trick to the removal of your blasted boot?"

Legolas smiled, but his voice sounded weaker. "No Gimli, they are just tight. Keep pulling, it is slowly coming off."

With one final hard pull, the boot slid free of Legolas' foot, sending Gimli sprawling on his rear. Ordinarily I would have found that amusing, but right now I found nothing amusing. I was very afraid for this Elf in my care. Very afraid.

I was glad to see Legolas laugh though. I was glad to see Legolas conscious at all. I tried to pull his leggings up his leg, but they, too, were impossibly tight.

"I am going to cut your leggings, Legolas," I said quietly.

"Do not cut them," he protested. "Pull them up."

"All the way up past your knee?" I complained. "They are much too close fitting. I'd have better luck pulling them down!"

He gave me a look that promised my death if I was to try that tactic, but he said nothing else.

"I'm going to cut these leggings," I repeated.

He made as if to sit up to stop me, then sank back down, one of his hands going to his brow. I bent over his head, taking his hand away.

"Legolas, how are you feeling? Is it hard to stay awake? Are you dizzy—nauseous—achy?" I had so many questions, and I wanted them all answered immediately.

"If you will be silent," he said, smiling, "I will tell you." He stopped for a moment, swallowing hard, and said, "I feel terrible. The answer to all of your questions is 'yes'." He swallowed again.

"Are you having difficulty swallowing?" I asked.

"No," he answered, his teeth clenched together. My heart felt as if it had fallen to my feet. Sweet Eru, do not let his throat be swelling as well.

After a few moments he finished answering my question. "Swallowing is not the problem. My stomach wishes to be empty—and very soon." He rose to one elbow, and I automatically grabbed his hair and held it back, supporting his shoulders as he retched. Gimli took over, giving Legolas his water skin afterward, helping him wash out his mouth.

Even though it seemed an eternity, only perhaps fifteen minutes had passed since he'd first announced to Eru that he'd been bitten. Wasting no more time, I grabbed the dagger I kept in my belt and slit his leggings up well past his knee. I briefly contemplated cutting them off completely, but the Elf was still conscious, and even sick like he was, he was still intimidating. I quickly decided against it. If his leg continued to swell, it may yet have to be done. It sounded like a task Gimli may be better suited for.

I had tended to snake bites before—many times, in fact. Adder bites weren't always serious. You usually had to upset the snake greatly to make them strike at you in the first place, and even then, they sometimes dealt but a glancing blow. However, if you did get the full attention of their fangs, the bite could be serious indeed. If they didn't kill you, they could make you wish that they had.

I pulled open the cloth where I had slit the Elf's leggings, exposing the fang marks. "Hold on, Legolas," I said, "this is going to hurt."

I made my cuts, along both fang marks, and the Elf didn't even flinch. I glanced up to see if he was still conscious and was relieved to see that he was. I hated to draw out the venom with my mouth, but I had no other choice. I bent as low as I could and placed my mouth around the injury. After a few minutes I stopped. I was no longer successful in drawing anything more from the cuts, and Legolas was starting to protest. I was thankful he was still alert enough to object to having my mouth on him. He was protesting at having me anywhere near him at all. Some things never change.

I lifted my tunic enough to pull the tail of my shirt out of my leggings and then poked a hole in it about three inches from its hem. After enlarging the hole, I then proceeded to rip the entire thing around bottom. I cut the resulting circle of cloth, so that I had a long strip. I then realized that this would not be enough to correctly bandage the Elf's leg, so I repeated the procedure. My shirt would certainly be short, if I continued to use it this way. I slashed through the last strip in the same manner as I had the first. Folding one of them several times to make a pad, I placed it against the wounds and then bound it with the other longer strip. I wanted to poultice this as soon as I may, but we needed to get Legolas out of the sun and onto a bedroll, to make him as comfortable as possible.

As soon as I was finished bandaging Legolas' injury, Gimli and I helped him to stand. He protested when I tried to get him to lean on me, but I assured him that I would not break, and he finally acquiesced. He leaned on both of us and we helped him to hobble over to sit in the shade.

Gimli was already preparing a bed for the Elf, taking his bedroll as well as Legolas' and stacking them one atop the other. I did not even try to get either of them to take mine as well. I knew it would be a waste of my breath. While Gimli hurriedly made the erstwhile bed, Legolas again had a bout of retching, this time with only me for assistance. Even though he was sorely sick, I could tell he chafed at my help. We had called a truce—a neutrality as it were—but we were still not comfortable within close proximity of one another.

Gimli eased his friend down onto the pallet, taking such care it made me want to weep. I had always known that Gimli was the sweetest person I had ever known, even though to look at him one would never guess such a thing. It took really getting to know him to find this out. Legolas being injured showed me that Gimli's friends were as precious as gold to him, and he would stop at nothing to see to their care. I only hoped Legolas' devotion to Gimli was as profound.

As soon as we had Legolas settled, I grabbed my bag of healing supplies and my water skin, seated myself at the end of the bedroll Legolas was lying on and started sorting through the packets of herbs I had brought along. I soon had the appropriate ones selected and set about making a poultice. Legolas was not sleeping, but he had his eyes closed. He and Gimli were quietly talking while I tended to mixing the herbal paste.

I lifted his leg and placed his foot in my lap, to gain better access to the injury. As I expected, he tried to pull his foot away from me, but I held fast to it. He finally gave up. He was weakening and didn't have the energy to continue. I said nothing and neither did he. I removed the bandage I had just placed on Legolas' injury, taking care not to hurt him too much. He may not be my favorite person, but I hated to inflict pain on others unnecessarily, even if they didn't endear themselves to me at all. The herbal paste was thick enough so that gravity would not be seeing it splat onto my knees as soon as I had applied it. Using gentle fingers, I smoothed the gooey concoction on and around the fang marks and cuts I had made. It was a shame really. Had that ridiculous snake only struck but a few inches lower, its fangs would have had but a mouthful of boot—not a jaw full of fair Elven skin.

I soon was finished applying the herbal paste to the fang marks and released his leg, placing his foot flat on the pallet. Placed that way, his knee was steepled enough to give clearance for bandaging. As soon as I was finished bandaging the bite, I rose, and looked around for something to pillow his leg upon. It needn't be too large, just something soft—a bit more cushion to help with the soreness. I finally settled on using my bedroll and took it over to my patient. I went down on my knees, placed it beneath his leg and sat back on my heels. I swiped my wrist over my forehead, pushing away a wisp of hair that had fallen forward as I bent to work.

I had replaced the bandage loosely. Legolas' leg had already almost doubled in size at the site of the injury. He would be lucky if it wouldn't need to be drained. I did not look forward to trying to convince the Elf that I should again come near him with a knife, but if push came to shove, my will would be done—even if I had to enlist Gimli to sit on him to see it accomplished.

I must have looked worried indeed; after Legolas opened his eyes again, he stared at me for what seemed an eternity.

I finally could stand his perusal no longer. "What?" I asked. "Do I have something on my face, or do you make it a practice to stare at Humans to make them squirm?"

He actually smiled. "Yes and No," he answered.

Gimli looked irritated. "Ask an Elf a question and he will usually tell you that same thing, Maeren. They can be quite exasperating at times."

"Gimli," Legolas said, his voice sounding slightly more weakened, "if you will look at the healer's face, you will see I gave the first part of her question a direct answer. And the second portion of her question, I also answered. What would you have me say?"

Gimli looked at me and smiled with chagrin. "I can attest that you do have something on your face—and in your hair as well."

I ran my fingers over my hair, and they came away holding two leaves. Taking up my water skin, I poured a bit of water on a hanky I had tucked in my bosom and ran it over my face. I looked at it upon completion of the washing and there was indeed dirt on it.

"Thank you, Legolas," I said, "for helping me maintain a neat appearance. You may not believe I am speaking sincerely, but I am."

He laughed, though not with much strength. He closed his eyes again, looking as if to rest. I was startled when he again spoke. I had glanced away and had not noticed he was looking at me once more.

"I was staring at you in part, because I sense your worry," he said. "I wish to assure you that, while this will make me sick, I will not pass from life because of it. Even though I am still suffering the effects of the venom, my body has already begun healing itself. It is the way of Elves."

Another tidbit of information concerning Elves had just been imparted to me by the most unlikely of sources. Sometimes you just could not figure what miracles life may throw your way. Legolas—actually explaining something about Elves to me. Would the sky rain rabbits next?

"That is a relief to me, Legolas," I said. "I was sore worried for you, because the effects of the venom were quick and severe. The men I have tended with this same bite, who have had the swift reaction that you did, have never survived. I thought Gimli would not let me live were I to let you die."

Legolas chuckled at that. "Now that I have been at your mercy when you are in action as a healer, as well as when you are wielding a dagger, I believe you would be able to defend yourself well. He would not stand a chance against you."

Now that comment took me aback! He must be sicker than he was letting on. Was he actually jesting with me?

Gimli cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps a contest is in order, lass?" Gimli asked with mock seriousness.

"Oh no!" I answered quickly. "I would soon be missing my head were I to stand against you in a duel, my fine Dwarf."

I turned to my patient and placed my hand to his forehead. His temperature was rising, though it was not high as of yet. He needed to rest, but it would be helpful if I could learn just a bit more about this Elven healing he had been speaking about earlier.

"Legolas," I began, "could you elaborate on the way your body heals itself? Is it twice as fast as a Human would heal? Or perhaps even quicker?"

"I would say it is quicker than twice as fast," he replied. "Were I to suffer a shoulder wound from an arrow at dawn and was tended to quickly—no Orcish poison involved—I would be healed for travel by the following dawn and healed completely for weapons within the following week. Oh, and it would be assumed that my health is prime."

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping. Then a sudden doubt crept through my mind. I had been the butt of one too many Elven jokes of late, and I could not just swallow a story of this strangeness without question. I cast a look at Gimli, seeing if perhaps he could confirm what the Elf had just said. Gimli noticed my look of suspicion and nodded slightly, a smile slowly stealing across his lips, affirming the truth of his Elven friend's words, despite their apparent outlandishness.

"So," I considered out loud, "in your honest opinion, when would you expect your recovery? I presume that in your thousands of years on Middle Earth, you have at least witnessed some Elf suffering an adder bite before, correct?"

"Yes," he replied, "I have. The Elf was bitten on the hand. He received no treatment at the time of the bite. He emptied his stomach as I did, only several times more, and he became very feverish. His hand became swollen and black, and when he finally received treatment, his hand had to be drained. He did make a full recovery. He suffered no ill effects afterward, only a small scar where the healer drained the fluid from his hand. As far as how long it will take me to recover—I will be hale by this afternoon, without doubt."

Gimli hooted with laughter, then tried to stifle it. Legolas shot him a look, but smiled in surrender.

"All right," he admitted, "by tomorrow morning, I will be fit to ride. No longer than that. If it is sooner, I will say so." At my sideways, doubting stare, he added, "I promise!" I was taken aback by the sound of the phrase and the look that he gave me. It was as if my Dustin had risen from his grave and had uttered the words. I shook myself mentally and came back to the present.

"All right," I said. "Only a few questions more, then I will leave you to rest. First of all, how are you feeling right now? Be specific, or I will begin firing questions at you, and you will become vexed with me again."

"My head hurts," he began, "my stomach hurts; my leg hurts; I am tired. That is all I believe. Does that satisfy your curiosity?" He closed his eyes, appearing tired and weaker.

"For now it will do," I replied. "Rest. I will be checking on you often, so be not startled if you feel me touch your forehead for fever. I wish not to be throttled should you react as a warrior and mistake me for an Orc."

"Have no fear," he replied with dignity. "My senses are intact; I would never make such a mistake, even between such similar creatures as you and an Orc." He glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back at him and placed my hand over his eyes.

"Sleep," I commanded quietly.

"Take your hand away, and I will," he replied.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. Then it occurred to me: Elves like to sleep with their eyes open. They call it 'waking dreams' I believe Elrohir told me once. I complied with his wishes and rose. I gathered the things I had used in caring for Legolas and stowed them once again in my bag.

I gathered all the water skins and went down to the riverside to refill them. Gimli went with me and it was immediately obvious what his motivations were.

"Maeren," he said with concern, "is the Elf doing as well as expected?"

I stopped and turned to the Dwarf. I placed my hand against his bearded cheek and smiled.

"He is, Gimli," I replied sincerely. "However, with this mysterious 'Elven healing' thrown into the mix, I really know not what to expect." We continued on to the riverside, and once there, we each took up a water skin and began to fill it.

"If he was a man," I continued, "I would expect his leg to swell quite a bit more and, in all likelihood, need to be drained. I would also expect high fever, just as he said his Elf friend endured. However, that Elf received no initial treatment, and since we are speaking of an Elf and not a man, I have no way of knowing if he will continue to swell or if his fever has reached its peak or not. I am sorry, Gimli. I truly have no answers for you. We will both simply have to wait this out with him and see how it takes its course. I would definitely take his word that his life is in no danger, though. I believe if he were destined for the Halls of Mandos, he would be there by now. The poison was swift to act, and it being that potent, it would have killed him were he a man. His Elven healing has saved him, Gimli. Of that I am sure. He will be fine. Now whether if by this afternoon—"

"Whether by this afternoon he thinks so or not, he will not be moving from that bedroll, even have I to sit on him," Gimli declared. "I have not seen the Elf that sickly ever before, and for him to accept help as readily as he did, there is no doubt in my mind that he was in dire need."

We finished up our chore and made our way back up the bank and back to the campsite. Legolas was where we had left him, one arm thrown over his face, but otherwise unmoved. I plopped myself down beside his head, after retrieving my book of poetry and began reading to pass the time. After a bit, Legolas stirred and moaned, taking a deep breath and lifting his arm from his eyes.

He looked over at me, his eyes obviously feverish. I had brought one of the water skins with me from the river, and I held it up in silent offer to him. He propped himself up on one elbow, and took it from me, drinking deeply of the cool river water Gimli and I had procured an hour or so earlier. He handed it back to me with his thanks and laid back down, returning his arm to shield his eyes.

"I am going to touch your face to check your fever, Legolas," I said, wanting not to startle him. I took the wrist of the arm covering his face, and lifted it away from his eyes and laid my other hand against his forehead. It was much warmer than it had been before. I replaced his arm to where I had found it across his eyes, much to his amusement, for he smiled. In no time I had mixed the herbs with water that would reduce his temperature, along with a bit of Valerian, to help ease the pain and assist him in sleeping.

"I have a special drink for you," I said in a 'sing-song' type of voice, much as a mother would use with a child she wished to dose with a foul tasting potion.

"What is it for?" he sang back to me.

I laughed. Without the singing this time, I replied, "It is for your fever."

"I prefer to let it burn itself out," he said. "That is also the way of the Elves."

Somehow, I doubted that. "You mean it is the way of bad Elflings who wish to not take what the healer wishes them to, is it not?"

He lifted the arm that covered his eyes, giving me a dour look. He again propped himself onto one elbow and accepted the cup I offered, drank it down, grimaced like he would retch again and handed the cup back to me. He gave me a most resentful look, and then resumed his position on his bedroll, the same as before.

"Are you comfortable, Legolas?" I asked. "Do you need a blanket or something else to pad your leg from the ground?"

He looked as if it pained him to admit it, but he finally answered me.

"If you would not mind, a blanket would help," he replied. "I am chilled."

I hoped the herb I had just given the Elf would work soon. Chills only indicated that his fever was rising even more. I rose and retrieved a blanket that had been dumped in the dirt in Gimli's haste at laying out the bedrolls for Legolas right after I had treated him initially. I took it a short distance away from my patient and shook it out well, then returned to him, spreading it over him evenly and tucking him in. He looked ashamed and embarrassed to be seen as so weak. I felt sorry for him. And the worst part was—I could not find it within me to gloat! I was a healer first and a scorned woman second. After all of his insults and downright mean remarks, I could not bring myself to have other than compassion for him. He was in pain and in need, and I could not find it in my heart right now to find any satisfaction in his plight. Perhaps when he was on the mend, and was beginning to chafe and grow irritable, then I could avenge myself again. But for now—a truce had definitely been called.

Pity. I may never have such an opportunity again.

Life could be so unfair at times, could it not?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The day passed in much the same way throughout the morning and afternoon, and still Legolas' fever was no worse, but it was no better either. The pain in his leg was worse, although he would not admit such a thing. He did not have to admit it, though; his actions as he slept admitted it for him. He didn't thrash about, but a moan would escape him now and again. Something I had noticed about him as we had traveled was that Legolas never made unnecessary noise of any kind as a rule. His moaning in his sleep left no doubt in my mind that he was in pain.

I grew just a bit concerned, for about mid afternoon Legolas had withdrawn his arm from his face and had closed his eyes, having obviously fallen asleep. I rose quietly and motioned for Gimli to follow me a short way distant into the wood so as not to disturb our patient. I then quizzed him as to how much he knew about Elves when they felt poorly.

"Does it concern you that he now sleeps with his eyes shut?" I asked.

"To tell you truthfully, lass," he replied, "I have never been present when the Elf—or any Elf, for that matter—has been injured, and then tended to, anywhere near me, so I know not much about it. However, I have heard them speak of it before, and they say that when an Elf closes his eyes to sleep, it usually means he is simply in a deeper, healing sleep. They say it is not a cause for alarm."

"Well," I said with a sigh, "that is a relief. Whoever would have thought that the care of an Elf would have such complications?"

"Who indeed?" replied Gimli with a smile, obviously amused with my unease. "He seems to be helpless at the moment, lass; I doubt he could harm you."

I cuffed him in the arm. "Gimli, quit teasing me," I said resentfully—then smiled. "I cannot help it! He is mean and he scares me sometimes. And at others, I care not and will speak to him as I will. I cannot explain it, my friend. He and I are as oil and water. We simply do not mix."

"Fret not about it, my dear," he soothed. "Elves are curious beings. They have that effect on us all. You are no different, rest assured."

"Gimli!" We both began to run at the sound of Legolas' call.

"Yes Legolas?" Gimli said as soon as he was at the Elf's side. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Legolas replied, "I simply wondered where you were."

Gimli heaved a sigh of relief. "Do not be scaring me that way, you stupid Elf!" he said forcefully, with an anger he truly did not feel.

"I cannot help it if you take fright easily," Legolas said with a wan smile.

"Never you mind," I interrupted them both. I knelt at the Elf's side and placed my hand on his brow. His temperature was no higher and no lower. Still the same.

"Would you like some water or tea?" I asked.

"Just some water, please," he replied.

Gimli helped him with that, while I readied my supplies to undress his wound and check on the swelling. Legolas noticed what I was about immediately.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I am just going to check the bite marks and the swelling," I replied.

I sat at the end of his bedroll as I had before and began untying and then unwrapping the bandage. Even though I had left it loosely bandaged, it was hard to untie at first, because his leg had swelled so much, the tension on the knot made it hard to untie. That certainly did not bode well for not having to drain this injury. After I had the bandage completely away from the wound, I bathed the poultice from it with some water I had placed in one of our cooking pots. I patted it dry with one of my towels that I used for my baths, then peered at the wounds closely. They were doing remarkably well. If it was not for the swelling, I would think that this bite had not even happened today—more likely yesterday. Elves were such mysterious beings. However, the swelling was indeed there, but it still was not severe enough to warrant draining, and with this wonderful Elven healing Legolas was displaying, I was willing to wait a while longer and give his body a chance to perhaps take care of this as well. My what an education I was receiving on this journey!

Earlier in the day while Legolas had been sleeping, I had cut one of my other shirts into bandages, so after I had mixed another poultice, I spread it on the wounds and replaced the bandage I had taken off with a fresh one, again tying it loosely. If this one tightened as snugly as the first one had, the leg would definitely have to be drained. I certainly hoped it did not come to that. It was something I really did not relish doing. It was a very painful procedure, and I never performed it unless absolutely necessary.

"Maeren," Gimli said, "I have built us a fire and set out a small repast of cheese and dried meat and a few pears, would you care to have it."

"I would be honored, dear sir," I replied. I glanced at Legolas. "Are you at all hungry, Legolas?"

"No," he replied shakily, "just tired. You both go ahead. I will be sleeping."

"Call if you need anything," Gimli announced, "but only if you need something important, mind you."

"Have no fear, Gimli," Legolas said with a small smile, "I promise not to interrupt your meal."

"See that you don't, you silly Elf," Gimli said gruffly, but as he approached the fire, he smiled at me. "I know not what to do with that Elf," he said to me as he sat. "Goes and gets himself bitten by an adder, he does."

"All you must do is be my friend, Gimli," Legolas called weakly from his bedroll. I had a feeling that the Valerian was taking effect. It certainly sounded as if it was.

"That I can do, Legolas," Gimli said with a smile. "Eru knows why I will do it, but I will."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A/N: First of all, I am not sure as to the exact amount of time between the initial bite of an adder and the onset of symptoms. I took a bit of poetic license in that aspect. Secondly, I want you to understand that I realize the treatment for snakebite mentioned in this chapter is woefully outdated. No one should ever cut the wounds made by the fangs, nor should they attempt to suck out the venom. That is 'old school' in the treatment of snakebite. Do not attempt any such procedures when dealing with the bite of a snake. No tourniquets, no cutting, no sucking. I am not a medical professional by any means. I found these facts by perusing a few good web sites on snakes. I suggest the reader do the same, should they wish to know the correct procedure in treating this type of injury.