The Heart of Men

by Nili

While wintering in Mirkwood, Aragorn and Legolas visit Laketown. Soon they find themselves thrown head first into chaos, suspicion and greed which threaten both their lives and the peace the new King of Dale has managed to uphold.

25. The Games We Play

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

*huggles readers* You guys are all sooooo sweet! Thanks a lot for your understanding, the family crisis is indeed solved. It was just one of these annoying things when everybody sits down and talks about things that won't change any time in the near future anyway, so the whole thing was futile in the first place. *sighs* But the things one does for one's family...

Okay, to the really important thing. Many of you have asked why the heck the stupid elf and ranger do not just eat snow when they're thirsty. Well, that was a question I asked myself, so I in turn asked a friend of mine who's studying medicine. So, apparently, the worst thing one can do when one is in a situation like our heroes, that is dehydrated but also in the danger of catching hypothermia, is to eat snow, because it lowers the body temperature even more and the body needs to use a lot of energy to melt the snow so you can swallow it in the first place. If you have the means to melt it over a fire or something, fine, even though you need to melt a lot of snow to even get a little water, but Legolas and Aragorn had nothing they could have melted it in, so that wasn't an option either. *shrugs* That's what my friend said, and since a lot of people pointed that out, I'd thought I'd let you know what was going on in that twisted little brain of mine when I put that in. *g*

LOL, Geran is indeed an idiot! (I put a mild term in here, this is only PG-13 after all! *g*) And yes, he even shows sign of over-possessiveness (that's a Gollum-word! Lots of 's'!), but believe me, he will get what is coming to him, as will Hanar and all of Adruran's men. I know, _finally_.

A last thing: Quite a few people have asked if I was planning to write a sequel to this, and I can happily announce that yes, I am. *g* I have a vague idea what it's supposed to be about, so never fear, I will not abandon you after the next chapter, which is unfortunately already the last of this story. *sobs* Very, very sad, I know.


Alright, enough talking, on to the chapter! There may be only one other left after this, but do not despair, for we have ... lots of death and destruction ... pain ... angst ... drama ... revenge ... so, all the good things, right? *g* Oh, and it's _way_ too long again - I stopped counting at 28 pages, so... *sobs* Why can't I make them stop!? Why?? *g*

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 25


The call that seemed to have paralysed the entire camp still rang through the cold air, showing no signs of abating. The men stood as if rooted to the spot and were simply not capable of understanding what the strange shout in this guttural language meant, and when the first ones finally began to realise what was happening, it was already too late to prepare themselves.

Only Adruran, Tiddryr and a handful of the other men had managed to draw their swords and turn even halfway around when a troupe of dwarven warriors slammed into them with the force of a charging mountain troll.

Legolas watched the small beings attack the humans, his elven reflexes allowing him to tear himself out of his trance-like state sooner. In his case it hadn't been so much that he'd been surprised that someone had saved them from what had looked like a hopeless situation, it had been the fact of who had saved them. It might be true that the elven prince had no interest whatsoever in the dwarves, their customs and their language except their swearwords, but even he knew the dwarven battle yell when he heard it, especially when it was screamed as loudly as now.

The dwarves. Had come to save them.

The idea was so strange that it was almost ridiculous. How had they got here? How had they known what was happening? Why had they come in the first place?

The elf was still trying to find answers to these questions when the first dwarf appeared in his line of vision, waving his axe about his head and still yelling at the top of his lungs. For a few seconds, all Legolas could do was stare, fully expecting him to disappear in front of his eyes in a small cloud of smoke. There was simply no reasonable explanation for the small being's presence here, nor for the presence of his companions that were emerging from the wood in the humans' backs now. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate them being here, he just couldn't understand why they were.

Legolas' confusion lasted considerably shorter than the men's, and he jumped into action before even Adruran had drawn his blade. He didn't really know what was happening here, but he did know that this offered them a much better chance than Rashwe and the other horses could have provided them with – they might get out of this alive after all.

With a motion quicker than the human eye could follow he reached for the sword at his side and drew it, noticing with some concern that his movements were a lot slower and more awkward than he could remember them being for a long time. His back sent waves of pain through his entire body with every incautious move he made, but unfortunately you didn't have the luxury of choosing what to do and when to do it in a swordfight, and that was exactly what he found out a few seconds later.

He had reacted a moment before than the humans that had been rushing up to him, but it hadn't been long enough to surprise all of them. The first two fell to the ground before they even had had the time to turn back around fully, but the other two whirled around in time to face him once they had seen that the dwarves were right now occupied with the rest of their companions.

Legolas gritted his teeth when his strike he had aimed at one of the men's shoulder was blocked and he himself pushed back, and due to his weakened state he wasn't able to stand his ground and forced to give way. He ducked just in time to avoid the other man's sword that would have taken his head off had he remained where he'd been, and quickly straightened himself again, cursing under his breath as pain exploded across his senses at the rapid movement.

While he was fending off the two humans, he used his still superior speed to buy himself some time to have a quick look around. Since the dwarves' yell had surprised the camp, barely half a minute had gone by, but the picture that greeted him now could not have been more different from the one thirty seconds ago. Everywhere seemed to be groups of fighting men and dwarves, and while the smaller beings had the superior numbers, the men resisted with the strength and determination of those who had everything to lose. The dwarves were still busy with the men that had stood closest to the wood, and it appeared that this situation wouldn't change any time soon either, judging by the ferocity the humans displayed.

Somewhere in the middle were Adruran and Tiddryr, shouting orders and encouragements to their men which didn't really seem to help; if anything, the men's actions became more chaotic and unordered by the second when the last bit of a formation disappeared and every man fought for himself.

Legolas' eyes though were not interested in the men, not even in the dwarves that had just popped out of the ground, for they quickly travelled over the groups of fighting people, searching, and while he was countering a manoeuvre of the one of his attackers that was still left, he found what he had been looking for: Geran who still held his human friend by the arm, who in turn was squirming and trying with all his might to shake the older man's hands off, without much success however.

Aragorn's desperate face was more than enough encouragement for the elf, and with a burst of strength he didn't know he possessed he side-stepped his adversary and let the man rush past him, slamming the hilt of his sword against his skull as he passed him. The human dropped to the ground senseless, but before his body had even come to a full stop, Legolas was already moving on, alternatively pushing his way through the combatants and skilfully avoiding them. He almost stopped when he saw King Dáin's face who was surrounded by a troupe of dwarves that appeared vaguely familiar and who was just ducking from under a blow someone had aimed at his head, looking as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself, but he opted against it, deciding that he could talk to the dwarven king later, if both of them managed to survive, that was. Otherwise he would never see him again, which wasn't that bad an idea either.

Legolas shook his head, drawing ever closer to where Geran and his friend were. That wasn't really true, he owed the dwarf king his life and that of Aragorn, and that wasn't something he would forget quickly. Unless the dwarf did something truly unforgivable, such as write his father about what had happened here.

The elven prince suppressed a wince and stumbled to the side to avoid the impending collision with a human that was backing away from two dwarves that were pressing in on him. O Ilúvatar, if his father ever found out about even a third of what had happened here he was dead…

All thoughts of his father were quickly driven from his mind when Legolas spied an opening in the circle of the men that surrounded Geran and his prisoner, and he pushed the pain in his body aside, moving quicker than he had thought himself able to right now. With two or three large strides Legolas had broken through the men's lines, and since a few dwarven warriors followed suit, unwilling to let this opportunity pass them by, he managed to get to Geran without being overly hindered.

The man looked up, apparently highly surprised to the elf, his brown eyes growing wide as he turned around to face him. That was the moment Aragorn had been waiting for, and, gathering all his strength, he slammed his body against Geran's side, making him stumble and automatically release his arm.

While the other man still sought to regain his balance, he took a few quick steps to the side and flashed his elven friend a quick smile before falling to his knees next to the downed body of a man, grabbing his knife and trying to free himself of his bonds.

Geran shook his head and straightened himself again, but before he could move to regain control of his captive, a shadow fell across his face, and he looked up to see into the steely, hard eyes of the elf that was standing in front of him, having moved between his friend and the other man.

"You don't want him," Legolas said quietly, drawing the knife he had taken from the guard with his left, unable to keep his face emotionless as pain flared to life. A Elbereth, now he knew why Aragorn had insisted that he kept his arm immobile! But if he could redirect some of Geran's attention from his sword arm to his left, he was more than willing to deal with the pain every slight movement brought. He wasn't entirely sure if he could beat Geran on his own, considering the way the world was beginning to softly spin around a random axis, and every small advantage was welcome.

"You never wanted him," he continued, moving slightly to the right to shield the young human from Geran's eyes. "This is about me and my kind, is it not?"

Geran looked at him, an almost feral gleam in his eyes as he drew his dagger with his left as well.
"It was truly a shame your elven friend died so soon. Be assured, it was an accident. Had I had my way, I would have hunted both of you – and I would have gone down that cliff as well. I knew you weren't dead, elf."

The man slowly moved to the side, beginning to circle the elf, who in turn was forced to move into the other direction to keep the distance between them. Legolas looked at the young man, hatred swirling in his eyes that were bright with suppressed physical and mental pain.
"Yet you did not. That was a mistake, human."

"We'll see," Geran retorted, consciously forcing his adversary to move away from the main fight. He wouldn't allow anyone to interrupt this, no, he had waited far too long for it. He didn't care anymore if they were overrun by dwarves, if their mission was failed for good or if all his companions were killed here and now – all that mattered was this fight, this opportunity to finally kill an elf. "This is not over yet."

The fair haired elf's eyes lit up, grief shortly appearing in his gaze before it was replaced by determination and an overwhelming fury.

"No," Legolas agreed, his voice soft and deadly, yet clearly audible since they had moved quite a way away from the main fire place where the majority of the men and dwarves were fighting. "It is not."

He looked the man in the eye and gave him a small, grim smile as he raised his sword in front of his body, bringing it into a ready position.

"You like games, do you not? Let's play then."




The soft muttering that emanated in a constant stream from the young ranger's mouth was drowned out by the noise of the fighting beings all around him. The only one that could have heard him was the man next to him – who was dead, so there were no witnesses to his outburst, and that was probably quite a good thing.

Most of the things Aragorn mumbled under his breath as he tried to free his wrists were not complimentary, and he insulted in turn the dagger he awkwardly held, the ropes that secured his hands behind his back, Geran's character, Geran's ancestors, Geran's existence in general, the invisible maniac that was located behind his brow and was right now jamming red-hot pokers into his brain, the fire that raged in his body and about a thousand other things in between.

He had never known that a dagger could be so slippery, he decided when the weapon in question escaped his weak grasp once more. Then again, he had never before tried to cut bonds behind his own back either, feeling at the same time as if Mount Doom had relocated right into his body.

The young man barely noticed that he cut himself – again – when the knife refused to be turned the exact angle he wanted to turn it. He dimly thought that he was probably beginning to look like someone who had repeatedly tried to commit suicide, and with a dull paper knife at that. If his father saw him like this, there would be trouble…

The bonds chose this moments to finally give way, and with a last curse questioning Geran's parentage he jerked his hands forward, wincing slightly when he felt blood return to the numbed fingers.
Letting go of the inexplicably slippery hilt of the dagger and grabbing the dead man's sword instead, Aragorn struggled to his feet, and not a moment too soon. A man had noticed his predicament and decided to get rid of the tied ranger, which promised to be a lot easier than fighting a bunch of fiercely determined, angry dwarves.

Unfortunately for him though was the ranger in question no longer bound, nor was he unarmed, and so he came face to face with a ready and prepared enemy, something he had not reckoned with. The element of surprise was on the younger man's side, and the other human quickly fell to the ground, shock and disbelief forever etched onto his features.

Aragorn himself nearly followed suit, the ground suddenly seeming very appealing to him. There were so many different kinds of pains and aches in his body that he could no longer tell which ones originated from the fever, which ones were due to the blood loss and dehydration and which ones had no ties whatsoever to either of them, and to be honest, he didn't care either. The fact remained that he felt miserable, and he didn't even want to know why, something that caused a small part of him to frown in concern.

Fighting with the force of gravity that seemed to have doubled in the past few hours and that was attempting to pull him to the ground, the ranger ran a hand over his face, trying to figure out what exactly was going on here. He had already established that the dwarves had somehow found them, even though he had no idea how, and he was even sure that he recognised a few of the voices that could still be heard yelling "Khazâd! Khazâd!" or "Baruk Khazâd!" once in a while.

Looking about him, he could see about thirty or thirty-five dwarves, or at least he thought so. Right now he wouldn't have been surprised if they had turned out to be twice or thrice as many, considering the way his eyes were beginning to give him trouble. The dwarves had nearly twice as many warriors, yet the lines of the humans had not yet begun to budge, the men fighting with desperate strength and determination. The smaller beings did all they could to break through their ranks, but up until now Adruran had been successful in keeping his men together, even though he hadn't managed to keep them in anything resembling a fighting order. He could hear the human captain's voice somewhere close by, and he could have sworn there was the red haired lieutenant's as well – or was it Geran's?

"Geran!" Aragorn gasped, shocked that he hadn't thought of the other man sooner. The last time he had seen him he had been moving into his direction, and now that he thought about it, he thought he had heard his and Legolas' voices while he had been concentrated on freeing himself…

'Oh no,' he thought horrified and turned around his own axis as fast as he could, side-stepping the bodies of the dead men on the ground. He gulped when his eyes found only fighting men and dwarves. Neither Legolas nor Geran were to be seen, no matter how hard he tried to spy a bit of long fair hair or the dark grey of his own cloak that the elf should still wearing – if he hadn't destroyed it again, he added grumpily. That elf was almost as bad as he was in that regard.

Giving his surroundings a last look, still hoping that he would manage to find a clue as to his friend's whereabouts, he gripped his sword more tightly and began to slowly and carefully fight his way through the men around him over to where the majority of the dwarves were. Geran had dragged him a little to the side when the fighting had started, which had served to give him a short respite until now, since most of the fighting was taking place on the other side of the clearing, but it also presented him with a problem now: The men were right between him and his dwarven allies.

Aragorn gritted his teeth when he moved to the side to escape the blade of one of the men that had decided that he wanted to finish what his lieutenant had started, namely killing the ranger. He needed to get to the dwarves and then find Legolas, as quickly as possible. He didn't doubt his elven friend's ability to protect himself, but in the shape Legolas was in at the moment he wouldn't trust him to defend himself against anything stronger and more cunning than an ill-tempered badger. And unwilling as he was to admit that, Geran was both, and as far as he knew, there was nothing the other man wanted more than to kill his friend.

The dark haired ranger decided to ignore the fact that the ground was beginning to sway slightly under his feet, as if he had just set foot onto a giant ship, and brought his sword up just in time to block a blow his adversary had aimed at his head. He didn't have time for this, he decided, trying to push the other man back, Legolas probably needed his help; he couldn't let him deal with Adruran's insane lieutenant alone! He wouldn't put it beneath Geran to want to nail Legolas' head against the wall of his home as a trophy either, and that was a rather disconcerting idea in his opinion…

He managed to press the other back, but the man simply shook his head and gathered his wits for another attack. Aragorn noticed with a mixture of trepidation and relief that they had moved to the very edge of the clearing, rather close to where the humans' horses were. That guaranteed a smaller chance of being disturbed since most of the humans were occupied on the other side of the glade, something which was both a bad and a good thing. It was a bad thing since his chances of receiving help if he needed it were worse, but it was also a good thing because the other man's chances of getting help if he needed it were also worse.

A second later Aragorn decided that he had been wrong, and that it was entirely a bad thing, when his opponent who had been about to attack again gave someone or something behind the ranger's back a quick look before turning around on his heel and running off to join his fighting companions once more.

'Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad…' a voice in the young man's head screeched, and he tried to turn around, but his hurting, hot body wouldn't allow him to move as fast as he usually would have, and so a wild boar slammed into him at full speed, or that was what it felt like.

As he lay on the ground, gasping for breath, he really believed for a moment that a boar had in fact run him over, before he heard a sneering voice that made him abandon that idea quickly. He was beginning to doubt quite a few things lately he had always accepted as true, for example that the world did not spin crazily when you turned your head or that the ground did not lurch at irregular intervals, but he was still sure that boars couldn't talk, and even if they could, he was certain that they wouldn't have used that particularly nasty tone of voice.

"It is true then what they say: You meet everyone twice in your life, ranger."

Aragorn needn't even open his eyes he hadn't realised he had closed to identify the man who had spoken the words, for he knew his voice only too well. It had appeared in his nightmares of late, and had been what had enabled him to recognise the man who possessed it in the first place, and he seriously doubted that he would forget it or its owner any time soon.

He slowly rolled onto his back, resisting the urge to lay his head onto the ground and simply close his eyes. The snow under his body felt so gloriously cool now, and he was sure that it would ease his ever-growing headache as well…

"We've met more often than twice, Hanar, and I cannot say I enjoyed it on even one occasion," he said tiredly, fixing fever-bright grey eyes on the man that stood above him, sword in hand and wearing an expression that could only be described as absolute enjoyment.

Aragorn twisted his head slightly, trying to find his own blade, but it had been thrown away from him and was lying half-buried a few feet to his right. Under normal circumstances he was sure he would have been able to get to it and to his feet before the other man had had the chance to close the distance between them, but now…

Not a chance.

Hanar grinned at him, shrugging slightly.
"Ah, but who is counting?" He gave the ranger's battered body a gleeful look. "Since it was so enjoyable every time…"

Hanar said some more, but Aragorn didn't feel very interested in it right now. He couldn't get killed now, he thought fuzzily, Legolas needed him! If he didn't tell the dwarves where he had last seen the elven prince they would be too late to help him, and Geran would finally get what he wanted: An elf killed by his hands.

"…but you aren't listening. How rude, ranger!"

Aragorn actually raised an unbelieving eyebrow at that. Hanar was lecturing him about the rules of conduct? A part of him noticed how some strength slowly began to return to his body. If he could keep Hanar talking for a little bit longer, he might be able to make a go for his sword and then…

Before he had even finished that thought, a loud blast ripped through the chilly air, drowning out the sounds of the fighting men and dwarves. For a second, Aragorn was unable to understand what it was; all he could think of was one of Gandalf's fireworks. Only a few times had he witnessed these wonderful creations, and it had left him awe-struck and grinning in happiness for hours every time, and not only when he had first seen them at the age of eleven. Mithrandir truly made the most splendid and colourful fireworks, that was known in all of Eriador, from the Misty to the Blue Mountains, and – what was even more important to a child – they were the ones that made the most noise as well.

That was exactly the noise he had just heard, he decided after a moment from his position on the ground, blinking up at Hanar who looked even more surprised than he himself felt, and a split second later his muddled brain worked out what had happened.

Using this opportunity, Aragorn rolled over and grasped his sword, ignoring the way his body protested, and gained his feet quicker than Hanar could react, all the time blessing Gwemyr's name and taking back everything derogatory he had thought about him in the past hour. The Lake-man had heeded his orders after all and set the cave on fire, and even though it had been too late to serve the original purpose, Aragorn could hardly remember a time when he had been gladder about tardiness than now. Finally he realised what had been in the barrels he had seen at the cave's entrance: Judging by the boom that still reverberated off the foothills of the mountain, it had been oil or some similar substance the men had used to light the many lamps that would be needed to effectively light the tunnels, oil whose barrels had now exploded.

Swaying slightly on his feet, Aragorn vowed to forgive Owaeran's brother even his naiveté and thoughtless behaviour and turned to face Hanar once more, noticing that the other man and the dwarves had recovered from the slight shock as well. It took the humans a little longer to understand what was happening, but when they did, it served to disrupt their lines more effectively than even a dozen more dwarven warriors could have.

"The gold!"

"The treasure!"

Anxious cries filled the small glade, and about a third of Adruran's men began to break away, heading for the small path that led up the mountain slope. A part of the dwarves took up the chase, running after the men with their axes raised high and a fierce yell on their lips, and Aragorn was suddenly sure that none of these humans would return alive. They might be taller and perhaps in cases stronger than the dwarves, but up in the mountain they were in the smaller beings' terrain, and didn't stand a chance against them and their axes.

The young ranger looked back from where he had watched the men's line thin and eventually break apart, and he slowly began to grin as he finally began to believe that, perhaps, they might get out of this alive after all.

Aragorn locked eyes with Hanar as he pushed back the weakness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his body. He wasn't a vengeful man by nature, especially not for things done to him and not to his friends or family.

Moving into a defensive position, he tightened his grip on his sword as the other man came closer, malicious intend shining brightly in his pale blue eyes.

But then again…




It was a conspiracy; it just couldn't be anything else. He was sure that that tree just in front of him had inconspicuously moved when he hadn't been looking, right into the path he had chosen to follow through the dense thicket of shrubbery and small trees. It shouldn't be a problem to follow it since it had been created a mere hour ago when thirty-eight dwarves had trampled through here, but, somehow, inexplicably, it was.

Celylith suppressed an annoyed growl and moved around the tree that seemed to be mocking him by moving back to wherever it had come from a moment after he had passed it. A part of him knew of course that the tree had in fact not moved and that it was him that was swaying unsteadily from side to side and seemed to be unable to walk ten yards in a straight line, but it was a lot more rewarding to blame the trees.

The noises of the battle grew ever louder, and the silver haired elf forced himself to increase his pace. They had arrived here about an hour and a half ago, the dwarves almost out of their mind with happiness at getting the chance to examine the tunnels where the treasure was located. One would have thought that they would be interested in saving his friends and maybe even the treasure, but what had been exciting them more than anything else was the opportunity to have a look at yet another hole in the rock face.

Celylith shook his head, doggedly ignoring his complaining body and the pain in his back and pushing on. It had taken him far longer than it should have to follow the dwarves and to escape the "watchful eyes" of the two young gonnhirrim that had been left with the horses to guard them – and him, the elf suspected.

They were in fact very young, inexperienced, rather friendly for their race and of course disgruntled at being left behind, and so they hadn't paid him the attention he was sure their superiors had expected of them. While the younger one, a for a dwarf tall young being named Nabur, was complaining to his companion that this always happened to him, that Frór and the others always had their fun without him, Celylith had decided that the two of them wouldn't even notice that he'd gone and stealthily and soundlessly disappeared into the wood that would lead him to his friends and the dwarves – or as stealthily and soundlessly as he could move at the moment, which wasn't very stealthy or soundlessly at all.

In fact, he decided as he made his way through the trees, he was very much surprised that Nabur and his friend hadn't noticed anything, but they were dwarves, after all, and to detect a wood-elf when he or she didn't want to be detected was nearly impossible, even if said wood-elf was injured.

The pain in his back became almost unbearable, and Celylith found himself wishing that he had listened to the dwarf healer and taken one of his draughts. A second later he realised that he had just wished that he had listened to a dwarf, and a dwarf healer at that, and that evoked a small gasp of terror. Elbereth, he was apparently in a worse shape than he had originally thought, and that was rather serious indeed, for he had been expecting to join his forefathers in the Halls of Mandos for the past few days.

'That doesn't sound too bad right now,' a small voice in his head provided while he was dragging his hurting body onwards, into the direction the dwarves had taken, 'You would meet your grandparents there, and Amaran, and…'

Celylith had never met his father's parents since they had been killed in a goblin ambush some time in the Second Age, but the thought of his sister's dead fiancée sent a cold shiver down his spine that already felt as if someone had snapped it in two. Amaran, his merry friend that had stolen Calowiël's heart with that stupid, reckless smile of his – even though his sister had always insisted that it was neither, but in fact adorable and almost "unbearably cute".

The thought of his sister brought new strength to his body that was very close to an open revolt now. He would not die here, he couldn't. He had to sail to Valinor one day and tell her that he was sorry, so very, very sorry, over and over again and as often as it took to be able to see forgiveness in her eyes that were so much like his own. Besides, he needed to get his troublesome prince out of this mess he had got himself and Estel into, or his liege and Lord Elrond would have his head…

That served to increase his pace even more. If he had been afraid of the two elf lords' reaction before all this had happened, then he was positively terrified now. There was no way he was returning to his home with the bodies of the crown prince and the Lord of Imladris' youngest son. Absolutely no way.

While he was still imagining what Lord Elrond's and King Thranduil's reactions would prove to be if they ever found out about all this – and they would, oh, they would – a loud, booming sound echoed through the wood, a sound that would have caused him to dive for cover had he felt up to it. The way it was, he simply stood stock-still, trying to ignore the part of him that screamed that it had finally happened and that the sky was falling down as it had been threatening to do for the past half hour.

No, he thought slowly, the pain in his body serving to muddle his thoughts, this didn't sound like a falling sky. He did in fact not know what a falling sky sounded like, but he very much doubted that it sounded like … Mithrandir's fireworks? Celylith frowned and quickly corrected himself, no, it did not sound like the grey wizard's fireworks, but rather as if something large had burst, or … exploded.

The silver haired slowly began to grin, even despite the pain that that small movement brought, and took up his walk once more, feeling incredibly relieved all of the sudden. He knew that his reasoning wasn't very sound at the moment, not that that surprised him right now if he was perfectly honest with himself, but that noise had served to lift his spirits like nothing else since he had awoken in that accursed dwarven cave yesterday - with the possible exception of Dofur's face when he had first risen from his bed without the dwarf's permission. That had truly been a sight he wouldn't forget in the near future.

His grin widened, and the sunlight that had appeared above the horizon about ten minutes ago appeared to be even brighter and purer now, and the trees not gnarly and bent anymore, but slender and graceful. That was the ultimate proof that at least one of his friends was still alive; only Aragorn or Legolas would find something they could bring to explosion up here. He wasn't sure what else the sound was telling him, or should be telling him hadn't he been so busy remaining upright, but he was sure that it had been a good sign, and he found himself praying that both of them lived.

The sounds of fighting were very close now, and Celylith gripped the pommel of his sword tightly in his fist, not entirely certain that he would remember where it was later if the pain in his back grew even a little more. For a second he asked himself again where his hunting dagger had disappeared to, but that thought was quickly forgotten when he heard something a little bit ahead, away from the main fight, about a hundred yards from where he was standing.

The elf cocked his head half to the side and began to slowly make his way forward, both because he didn't want to alert whoever was ahead of him to his presence and because he had to avoid the trees that were once again starting to sneak up into his way when he wasn't paying attention. His hearing wasn't working so well at the moment, and so it took him some time to hear the voices that could be heard once in a while, exchanging wry remarks or insults in between the sound of clashing swords, and even longer to identify one of them.

When he did, however, he had to lean against the trunk of a tree which had chosen to remain where it was, his legs suddenly going weak. Thank Ilúvatar and all the Valar, at least one of them was still alive, thank you, thank you, thank you…

His fervent prayer of thanks was interrupted when he heard a very familiar voice cry out in pain, closely followed by a heavy thud when someone or something fell to the ground. Another voice he did not know made a snide comment and he could hear the sound of someone stamping heavily through the snow, but the silver haired elf was already moving.

Celylith completely forgot about caution, reason and even his injury and rushed forward, wrenching his sword from its sheath and praying that he wouldn't be too late to keep the promise he had given his liege after all.




Legolas was not having a good time, something his body agreed with whole-heartedly. Since Geran had pushed him away into a rather remote part of the forest, things had been going downhill for him.

He moved rapidly to the side, avoiding the man's blade that whistled through the air where his head had been only seconds ago. He shouldn't have problems like this, he really shouldn't, but yet he did. Under normal circumstances Geran should have been dead a long time ago, for he was still young, and even though he was a talented fighter, he was still rather inexperienced. Besides, they were in a wooded area, so Legolas should have enjoyed yet another advantage, for only the stupidest or most suicidal people took on a Silvan elf in a wood, but since he didn't have the strength to even look at the trees properly, that wasn't much of a help, either.

Drawing back a few paces, Legolas looked hard at the other man, trying his best to get his breathing and wildly beating heart under control. Geran gave him an amused look that yet only served to mask his annoyance and growing concern. Eru, the elf should be dead by now! Considering his injuries he shouldn't have lasted even a third of the time they had already been fighting, and yet here he was, still upright and putting up a fierce resistance. The human frowned, the urgency in his heart only increasing. If he didn't finish this soon, it would be too late and the dwarves would find them, effectively taking away his chance to kill this one.

"What is it, elf?" he taunted, taking a deep breath himself. "Getting tired?"

The elven prince looked back at him, contempt wrinkling his brow.
"Tired of you? Maybe. Tired of our 'game'? It is not over yet, so how could I tire of it already?"

While he was still speaking the last words, Geran moved forward again, feinting to the left and then thrusting to the right, forcing Legolas to step to the side and parry the blow with his left, which send a nauseating wave of pain up his left arm. The man had soon realised that, even though his adversary's left hand held a dagger, the arm was one of his weaknesses, and missed no chance to exploit it as best as he could.

The pain was so intense that Legolas dropped his dagger and had to fight the urge to join his discarded weapon on the ground. Great Manwë, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt… He had enough presence of mind left to stumble to the side, therefore avoiding getting skewered by Geran who was trying to take advantage of the elf's current state.

Legolas backed away slowly, his right hand still gripping his sword, his left arm pressed tightly to his chest. O the Valar, Aragorn had been right, he shouldn't have moved his arm, why hadn't he listened to his human friend?

Geran gave him a wry grin, saluting him mockingly with the hilt of his sword, which he really shouldn't have done since that only served to fuel the elf's already burning fury. Legolas stared at the weapon the man used, having a very hard time pushing back the feelings of hatred and the need for revenge that threatened to overcome his mind. That was Aragorn's sword, how dared this man…

"Do you remember what I told you yesterday?" he asked in a soft, almost friendly tone of voice, slowly beginning to circle the man, sword at the ready and all pain suddenly gone from his features. "Up that cliff before you gave me that little 'head start' of yours?"

Geran forced his face into a calm façade, trying to shake off the dread that was settling itself over him like a dark blanket.
"What, when you ran away, elf?"

Legolas nodded slightly, apparently unperturbed by the man's words.
"I promised you I would take back my friends' weapons and kill you with the dagger you took from my elven companion. I trust you have not forgotten?"

The man snorted and moved forward, forcing Legolas to give way in order to parry the blow he had aimed at the elf's neck.
"To do what with them?" he ground out, trying to push the other back, but finding to his surprise that the elf still had some strength left and was resisting every such attempt. "To put them on top of their graves? Your elf friend is dead, and the ranger will join him soon! He's already half on the other side anyway, and trust me when I say that Hanar will be more than willing to help him along!"

Geran realised his mistake a second too late when a hot, angry fire lit the silver-blue eyes he was staring at, and with an inexplicable burst of strength and speed the fair haired elf pushed him back, freeing his trapped blade, and started an attack of his own. The human was forced to give way and could do little more than block the blows the elf aimed at him as best as he could.

'Eru!' he gasped inwardly, staring in surprise at his adversary that temporarily seemed to have forgotten about his injuries and was displaying such a lethal fierceness that the man shortly wondered if he had been injured at all. 'This is not going according to plan!'

Not even the loud explosion that echoed through the trees a moment later seemed to stop the elven prince at all, while Geran was hard-pressed to come to terms with the sudden, surprising distraction. After a few seconds it began to dawn on him what the noise meant, and when he heard the excited shouts in the camp to his left, the pieces fell into place. Something had happened to the gold, and these idiots were breaking rank and rushing up the slopes!

Geran ducked under a blow that would have taken his head off had he moved a second later and looked at the elf, eyes hard. He had to end it now, if he was right and the others' lines were breaking apart, it was only a matter of time, and not much time at that, until these accursed dwarves would appear and destroy everything.

His chance came when the elf stumbled over a snow-covered tree root that protruded slightly from the ground. The fair being's blow went astray and he needed a few seconds to regain his footing, but that was all the time Geran needed. Stepping slightly to the side, he managed to let the other pass him, only to slam his left shoulder into the elf's back when he moved forwards to avoid falling flat on his face.

White-hot agony plunged his world into sudden darkness, and Legolas' fingers opened on their own account to release his blade that fell soundlessly into the snow. The fair haired prince followed suit, falling to his knees, unable to think of anything than the pain in his back. He didn't even notice that he cried out, his whole being concentrated on his torn back that hurt so fiercely that he didn't even seem to be able to draw breath.

Valar, of course Geran would know where to hit him most effectively; it had been him who had placed the cuts there, after all…

Unable to open his tightly closed eyes, he heard as if through a thick mist how Geran chuckled, his voice sounding beyond pleased with his own actions.

"What? Did that hurt?"

Legolas wanted to say something, to do something, but all he could do was try to force his lungs to co-operate again and ball his fists to deal with the pain. He could feel hot blood soak into the bandages Aragorn had wrapped around his chest and back, and instead of decreasing, the agony seemed to multiply, spreading into his chest and up to his head.

Heavy boots crushed the snow as the man stepped closer, and Legolas realised that he didn't have the strength to fight, and that he was going to die now, alone, leaving Aragorn behind, if the ranger was still alive, that was…

Geran looked at the downed elf who didn't even seem to have the strength to open his eyes, anticipation beginning to fill his entire being. Finally, he had been working so long and hard for this moment…

"Well," he stated, watching with lazy interest how a red stain was beginning to spread on the back of the other's grey cloak, "This is it, then." He took the hilt of the ranger's sword in both hands, shoving the dagger he had taken from the elf back into his belt. "I must say I enjoyed our game. It's almost a pity to end it so soon." Geran smiled evilly. "Almost."

Legolas heard how the man raised his blade above his head, and he silently screamed at his body to move, to fight, not to stay here to be slaughtered, but every ounce of strength he had possessed seemed to have dissipated. He couldn't even open his eyes to meet his fate like a warrior should; it appeared that someone had glued them shut.

He sent a last prayer to the Valar to keep Aragorn safe and to not let his father despair of his death, but the blow he expected did not come. Instead of feeling pain he heard soft footsteps that rushed up to them, followed by a low grunt when something slammed into Geran and the sound of bodies hitting the ground.

The confusion that filled his entire being gave him enough strength to open his eyes, and what he saw made his eyes go wide and his heart miss a beat. It couldn't be … it could not be…

Geran was lying in the snow, struggling to his feet now, and next to him, on his knees and breathing hard, but undeniable alive, was a silver haired elf that still gripped his sword and was glaring daggers at the man.

The human regained his footing as if in a trance, staring at the fair being's scratched and cut face.
"You? But … you died! I killed you! You died!!"

The elf simply raised an eyebrow, climbing to his feet as well. So this was the one who had shot him? He gave his prince who was staring at him as if he had just seen a ghost a fleeting glance, and his heart clenched in fury when he saw the blood that was spreading on the other elf's back, the bandages on his chest and left arm and the bruises on his face. How dare these people…

"No," Celylith answered slowly, finding that he didn't feel as tired and exhausted anymore, "I didn't." He slowly raised his sword, eyes narrowing when he saw his own dagger on the man's belt. "But you will, Valar help me."




How exactly he got himself into these situations all the time, Aragorn honestly could not tell.

Just a few weeks ago all he had thought about was how to get Legandir, Mirkwood's finest weapon smith, to finish Legolas' bow on time, and now…

Now he was stuck somewhere on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, cut off from his best friend who was most probably fighting for his life right now as well as from a contingent of dwarven warriors that were too far away to aid him, and was in the process of being cut to pieces by a vengeful man who had spent the past two weeks with thinking of many amusing ways of killing him.

Wonderful.

He sighed inwardly, obeying his inner voice that screamed at him to duck, and to do it now. A second later Hanar's blade cut through the air above his head, and the young man silently thanked the voice. He was beginning to rely more and more on it, since he himself seemed to have some serious problems co-ordinating his movements.

Aragorn backed away slowly, deciding that he needed to end this soon, somehow, anyhow, or Hanar would kill him. He really was not up to a serious fight, and the other man was a skilful swordsman, as were all of Adruran's men. The young ranger noted with some concern how the ground began to sway under his feet once again, and this time the movement was much stronger than before. His tired, hurting body was having trouble coping with the earth's movement, and the pounding in his head only increased.

Valar, he thought as he brought up his sword at the last possible moment to block yet another of Hanar's attacks, he really needed to end this, besides, there was still Legolas who needed his help. He quickly took a look at the fight that was still raging behind them, and saw that it was becoming clear that the humans were on the losing end. The dwarves were pressing them back now, bit by bit, and the men were beginning to become cornered against the trees of the small wood, therefore becoming further restricted in their movements.

The young human raised his aching head that seemed to weight about a ton and gave his adversary that was grinning gleefully at him a hard look. The dwarves were winning, it was only a matter of time, and he would not give up now and let himself be killed. Especially not by a sick man like Hanar.

"You are losing," Aragorn stated in an even voice, trying to hide his increasingly laboured breathing, "Your men are being cornered right now. Their resistance will crumble and the dwarves will win, and those who don't give themselves up will die."

Hanar looked at the younger man, appearing rather unperturbed by his words.
"As I said once before, ranger: You may very well be right." He took a small step forward, his hand on his sword's grip tightening unconsciously. "Yet it does not matter. You will go first, I will make sure of that."

The man rushed forward, intending to surprise the young ranger, but Aragorn had moved to the side in time, side-stepping his attack. The ranger quickly turned fully around, facing Hanar once more.

"I didn't kill Lomar," he added in a manner of explanation. Seeing the renewed interest in the older man's eyes, he continued, more than willing to stall some more to give the dwarves a chance to come to his aid. He didn't accept help gladly as a rule, but he wasn't too stupid to realise when it was the only option left.

"No?" Hanar asked, clearly not believing a word Aragorn had said, closing in on his adversary again.

"No," Aragorn moved his head minutely to the side, having decided that it would either explode or fall off his shoulders if he moved it too rapidly or too far. "He killed himself, too afraid to face the consequences of his actions." Contempt stole over his face, and he added, silver eyes hard and cold, "Yet he deserved death. He was a coward, more than anything else."

An angry fire seemed to appear in Hanar's eyes.
"He was my friend, ranger. And you are responsible for his death, no matter what!"

The other man wrinkled his brow, running an unsteady hand over his face and trying to remove the cold sweat that had accumulated on his brow.
"He was responsible for his own fate, and he chose to die; no-one else made that decision for him.." He paused, giving Hanar a cold look. "And if he was your friend, then what does that say about you?"

Before he had even fully spoken these words, Aragorn realised that it had been a stupid, no, a terribly stupid thing to say. Why, he berated himself inwardly, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? At least once? It would make everything so much easier…

'Because you are an idiot, that's why,' a voice in his head spoke up that sounded frighteningly like one or both of his elven brothers, 'You do not think, you just say what comes into your head, and one of these days that trait of yours is going to get you into real trouble…'

If the voice hadn't been so intent on lecturing him on his general stupidity and recklessness, it might have noticed that said trouble was already there. Hanar had taken a few quick steps forward, now red with fury, and was bringing down the blade of his sword with all his might. Aragorn who had been rather concentrated on fighting down a sudden bout of nausea brought up his sword, but he was unable to counter the blow with enough force to block it completely. All he managed to do was to divert it, so that instead of impaling him as the other man had apparently planned the blade buried itself in his right shoulder, cutting deeply through skin and muscle and finally coming to a stop when it met with the resistance of the shoulder blade.

For a moment, both of the men simply stood there, eyes fixed on the sword. Aragorn had just enough time to think that it was a most peculiar sight to see a sword protruding from one's own shoulder when the pain hit him, washing over him like an unstoppable wave. He barely managed to stifle a cry and fell to the ground, his aching body deciding that it was enough now and time to give up.

He barely noticed how Hanar wrenched the blade from his shoulder, the fingers of his left hand automatically grasping the wound, trying to ease the burning pain that seemed to intensify by the second. 'Wonderful,' he thought fuzzily, 'Why did it have to be the right shoulder? Really, really wonderful…'

He tried to get to his feet, but before he could move more than a few inches a fierce kick to his back sent him flying forwards, closely followed by a second that removed his sword from his suddenly lifeless fingers. To right himself again almost took more energy than he had left, and when he opened his eyes again it turned out not even having been worth it: The grinning, gleeful face of Hanar was all he could see, and he was almost angry he had picked himself up from the wonderfully cold snow for this.

Hanar grinned down on him, watching with obvious fascination how dark scarlet blood dripped from his blade onto the white snow. Switching his sword into his left and drawing his dagger with his right, he turned back to the ranger who was apparently about to fall over again.
"As I said, you will go first! And we are back to square one, ranger, are we not? You are on your knees in front of me, and can do nothing to stop me. It is always the same, this is beginning to bore m…"

Before the man could finish the sentence, he sensed movement behind him and tried to turn, but it was already too late for him. A pair of hooves hit him into the side, making him sail through the air until he hit a large, snow covered boulder. The man didn't move for a few moments, but just when the young ranger was beginning to suspect that he had been killed by the impact – a prospect which Aragorn was prepared to meet with the utmost indifference – he began to move slightly and gave a small moan.

Aragorn paid the man no heed, crawled over to his blade and struggled his feet, realising that this was the best chance he was going to get, and since it took him far longer than it should have, he and Hanar managed to regain their footing at nearly the same time. The young ranger didn't take his eyes off the other man, not daring to look for the horse that had just saved his life and furiously battling the stabbing pain in his shoulder that made it near-impossible for him to even hold his sword.

He still couldn't believe his luck, he thought, trying very hard not to drop to the ground again, why a horse would have chosen to kick Hanar was beyond him, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Neither he nor the older man had paid the horses that were more than startled by the fight any attention, and so the sound of hooves on the snow or loud snorting hadn't alerted either of them.

"Still bored?" Aragorn asked the other man, raising a mocking eyebrow. He didn't care anymore if he antagonised Hanar even further, he needed to end this, now, and if Hanar was too angry to think clearly, all the better.

Hanar growled angrily, blood from a head wound trickling down his neck. Damn that ranger and his whole impertinent kind! Without another word he rushed forward, intent on putting an end to this whole affair. He was beginning to tire of the ranger, besides, if the sounds behind them were any indication, the dwarves would be here soon, and the very last thing he wanted was to be captured and brought before the King of Erebor or Dale. Or both.

Aragorn waited patiently for the other man to come close enough, rather astonished by his calmness himself. He knew he had only this one shot; he just didn't have the strength for a second try, especially considering the way the world was starting to swim and darken in front of his eyes. He would either kill Hanar in a few seconds or die himself, and that thought gave him a certain sense of peace.

Waiting for the last possible moment, he moved forward, right into Hanar's way. The older man had anticipated much, but this hadn't been part of it. The young ranger's seemingly suicidal manoeuvre startled him, and he side-stepped to the right, doing exactly what Aragorn had expected him to do.

With a small, satisfied inner smile Aragorn changed directions and stepped to the left, cutting off Hanar's way. The older man had enough sense left to twist to the right to avoid the ranger's sword arm, and was unwittingly caught in the trap Aragorn had laid. Summoning all his strength, the young man moved with a speed that would have made his elven instructors proud. Letting go of the somewhat crude, heavy sword he still awkwardly held with his right and almost letting it fall to the ground, slippery as the hilt was with his own blood that flowed down his arm from the wound in his shoulder, he gripped it with his left hand and turned slightly, bringing his own body alongside Hanar's and thrusting the blade upwards, wincing slightly when he felt the steel cut through flesh until it was buried deep in the other's chest.

Hanar blinked slowly, and neither of the men noticed that his weapon fell to the ground, clanging slightly when it hit a small rock, both staring at the sword that was protruding from the man's ribcage. Realising what he was doing, Aragorn quickly withdrew his blade, still somewhat stunned that his trick had worked. His brothers had always drilled into him to fight unpredictable, to do what his adversary expected the least, but that he had actually succeeded was more than surprising in his opinion.

Hanar collapsed to the ground, the light in his eyes already dimming, staring at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Aragorn lowered his sword and took a step closer to the dying man, forcing his hurting body to remain upright for a moment longer.

He looked at the other man on the ground, who right now didn't look intimidating or menacing anymore, but rather pitiful, if anything.

"No," Aragorn shook his head slowly, pushing back the pain and weakness that wanted to drive him to his knees, "No, you were wrong." He gave Hanar a long, hard look, feeling how the hatred in his chest disappeared and was replaced by weariness and bone-deep exhaustion. "After you, Hanar."

The other human looked at him with glassy eyes, and Aragorn watched how they stilled and finally glazed over, the light in them dying as the man's soul left his body.

Aragorn slowly let out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, still looking down on Hanar's lifeless body. It had been the other man's unreasonable hate and need for revenge that had brought him here, and yet he felt responsible for what had happened. He didn't feel remorse or regret, he had acted in self-defence after all and didn't have any doubts whatsoever that Hanar would have killed him without a second thought, but still: Had Lomar not killed himself, nothing of this sort would have happened, so somehow, Hanar had been right and he was responsible, in a way…

The young ranger shook his head, shortly contemplating if he would be able to sit down himself or fall down in the next few seconds. It was his conscience that mourned for the loss of a life, however despicable and twisted it had been. He knew that he couldn't have acted any other way and wasn't to blame for anything that had happened, but still…

He was still pondering this when he heard a noise behind him, in fact the neighing of a horse that sounded very familiar, even though he couldn't identify it right now. Aragorn had just enough energy left to turn around, and what he saw filled him to equal parts with elation, astonishment and unbelief.

Elation because he saw that the men's lines were finally crumbling under the relentless pressure of the dwarves. The humans that were still alive were looking for a way to escape, even though Aragorn suspected that few if any would succeed.
Astonishment because he finally realised which horses had saved his life: In a loose semi-circle around him stood Rashwe, his own horse and Celylith's, their tails swishing from side to side and bright eyes rolling, making clear to any man that dared come near them that they wouldn't let anyone step closer. The horses managed to keep any humans that wanted to flee into his direction at bay, something for which he was very thankful.
And unbelief because in front of him stood Adruran, brown hair plastered to the side of his head with blood that flowed freely from a cut on his forehead, his horse next to him and an unreadable expression on his face.

All Aragorn could do was stare wide-eyed at the man in front of him, his mind screeching at him to do something else than stand here and stare at the human captain with his mouth open like a fish out of water. He didn't know how Adruran had got past the horses without him noticing or where the horses had come from in the first place, but these were hardly questions that mattered right now. After a few more moments the young ranger remembered that he probably should at least try to defend himself, and he raised his sword, his hot, aching head swimming and making it hard to think or concentrate.

If anything, Adruran merely seemed annoyed with his reaction, and with a movement too quick for the feverish ranger to comprehend, he raised his own sword and brought it down on Aragorn's with enough force to make sure that the younger man's arms screamed under the strain. Weakened by fever, blood loss and dehydration as he was, Aragorn wasn't able to block the blow for long, and his arms wobbled and finally gave way, and Adruran knocked the sword out of his grasp and sent him flying backwards onto his back with the same movement.

Aragorn simply lay in the snow, his whole body screaming in pain, and decided that this had been one thing too many. Valar, this was not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair…

He couldn't go on, there was simply no strength left in his body. He knew that he would die if he didn't do something now, but he didn't even have the energy to lift his head. His skull was aching so fiercely that he was beginning to suspect that it would burst in the next few minutes, his old injuries and the cracked ribs throbbed, and the stabbing pain from his shoulder wound began to intensify and spread again. He gave an almost inaudible sigh. This was it. He couldn't do anything to save himself now, and the dwarves and even the horses were too far away or too busy to help him.

Instead of bringing his sword down on the defenceless body of the younger man in front of him though, Adruran simply gave him a long look before saluting him slightly with the hilt of his blade.
"I knew you and your elven friends would be trouble. I should have killed you when I had the chance, but, alas, now it is too late."

He smiled slightly when he saw the quiet disbelief in the other man's eyes.
"I am intelligent enough to know when my cause is lost, ranger. My men are dead or fleeing, the treasure is destroyed, and my plans have failed. I do not intend to return to my liege bearing the news of our failure." Adruran gave the younger man a slightly amused look. "It hardly matters now whose fault it was, does it?"

He shot a quick look over his shoulder, noting that a troupe of dwarves were fighting their way over to their position, and mounted his horse, returning his blade to its sheath. He turned back to the young ranger on the ground, his eyes hard now.
"If you try to find me or stop me now, I will kill you, trust me. If we ever meet again or you and your friend get in the ways of my plans again, I will not be as lenient as now."

Adruran turned his horse and was about to spur it on to disappear down the path that led into the valley of Dale when the quiet, rather weak of the man on the ground stopped him.
"Why?"

The older man stopped, turning around until his eyes met Aragorn's, apparently understanding what he wanted to know.
"Why do I not kill you?" His face remained expressionless, even thought there was an amused sparkle in his eyes. "Because I am a reasonable man, ranger. I thought you knew that."

Adruran turned his horse and quickly disappeared down the path, leaving behind a bewildered, very surprised ranger that had a hard time believing what had just happened. For a few seconds he contemplated if he had perhaps imagined things – which wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest, considering the way he felt at the moment – but his idle musings were interrupted when a big, velvety nose carefully nudged his uninjured shoulder, making him turn his head to look up into the big, soulful eyes of his horse that was standing next to him, snorting softly as if admonishing him for getting himself injured.

Aragorn noticed how the world seemed to somehow become softer around the edges and the colours became paler, and he watched with mild concern how his horse's chestnut brown coat turned into something of a dull grey all of the sudden. Looking around a bit more, he saw two more horses, and when he saw the smug expression Legolas' horse wore, something that should be impossible for an animal, he knew without doubt which animal had saved his life by kicking Hanar away from him.

He feebly reached up and stroked his horse's nose that was still trying to get him to rise to his feet, something that he just couldn't do, no matter how much he wanted to reassure the animal, and his slowly failing hearing informed him that at least three dwarves were coming his way, judging by the way the snow was trampled somewhere to his left.

Letting his head sink back into the gloriously cold snow, he asked himself and all the Valar that might be willing to listen why it had had to be Rashwe that had saved him. If the animal had been bad before, it would be unbearable now.




Geran looked from one elf to the other, not believing what his eyes saw.

The one he had been fighting was on his knees in the snow, staring at his friend with wide, unbelieving eyes, totally unaware of anything else. The man decided in an instant that he had never before seen anyone this astonished; the elf's body was rigid with shock and surprise.

Geran himself felt little better. He gave the other elf a furtive glance, noting the stiff way he moved and the pain that was plain to see on his scratched and bruised face. He looked half-dead now, yet he should be completely dead! He had seen his body, had seen his own arrow protrude from his back; there was no way a man could have survived that…

He stopped in mid-thought, cursing himself inwardly. No man could have survived it, but an elf… Geran took a step forward, eyes blazing with fury that was directed mainly at himself. How could he have been so stupid, so thoughtless? He had once again underestimated the elves, yet it was well-known that they were more resilient and harder to kill than men or dwarves…

Bringing his sword up in front of his body, Geran gave the silver-haired elf a sneering smile.
"How kind of you to join us, Master Elf. Your friend here came back from the dead as well today, as did your little ranger friend, so I might have figured you would as well, right?"

Celylith took a step to the side, placing himself between the man and his prince, his heart rejoicing at Geran's words. So Aragorn was still alive as well, thank Ilúvatar! Lord Elrond might only maim him instead of feeding him to a pack of wargs…

"I wouldn't count on doing the same if I were you, human." He gave the man a small nod, looking pointedly at his knife on Geran's belt. "You have something that belongs to me." A small, dangerous smile spread on his face, making him look even fiercer than before. "And I want it back."

Geran raised his chin and smiled back at him, trying hard to push back the worry that was beginning to consume his heart. He really was not prepared for a second elf…
"Then come and get it, elf."

Celylith's now downright terrifying smile widened, a sight that – even under normal circumstances - would have every sensible being urgently contemplate surrender or flight.
"I have been so hoping you would say that, human."

Hot rage bubbled in the elf's chest, lending him the strength he needed to attack the human. He knew perfectly well that he was no real match for the man right now, but he had no other options left, especially since Legolas didn't look up to fighting right now. While he brought his sword down onto the man's with all the force he could muster, he asked himself briefly why his friend was acting so peculiarly. Surely he had known that he would somehow pull through and get back to him with reinforcements? Legolas was acting as if he had seen a ghost…

Geran blocked his blow and pushed him back, and Celylith's gaze once again fell on the long dagger on the man's belt, and he felt how his fury even increased. This man had not only hurt his friends and especially his prince, had shot him and had therefore condemned him to spending the past few days with the dwarves under their mountain, but he had touched his weapons as well. Worse than that, he had actually taken one of his knives, in fact the knife Calowiël had given him shortly before her departure, and if he wasn't very much mistaken, it was Aragorn's sword that was threatening to take off his head right now.

The silver haired elf growled almost inaudibly, anger drowning out the pain in his back. There was only so much a wood-elf could tolerate, and this was definitely beyond it. Getting cut into pieces by a friend's sword wielded by a human child who had beforehand stolen his dagger was not his idea of an honourable death.

Soon, however, all his thoughts were concentrated on fending off the man, and Celylith felt how his strength was giving out. Unfortunately, the dwarves had been right, as unhappy as he was to admit that. The king, various of his advisors, Dofur and about every dwarven warrior that had laid eyes on him had wasted no time informing him of the fact how terribly weak he looked and that he was most definitely not up to a fight, most of them with fake smiles on their faces that did not hide their glee at being able to say that to an elf.

'Yes,' he nodded inwardly, narrowly escaping a jab that would have cleanly sliced through about his third and fourth rib had he remained where he was, 'They were right, Melkor take it all!'

Geran aimed another slash at his chest that was blocked just in time and drew back, smiling evilly at his weakened adversary.
"What, Master Elf, you too? First your friend here gives up so soon and now you? Perhaps I should have taken the ranger instead; maybe he would have put up more of a fight? And I always thought elves were dangerous fighters…"

Celylith gave the man a scathing glare, inwardly deciding that he wouldn't last for much longer. The world was beginning to sway in a most disconcerting manner, and the fact that someone seemed to be busy breaking his spine into tiny little pieces didn't help matters either.

"You are a coward, and a hypocrite, human," he told him full of contempt, trying his best to remain between this human and his friend, who was still kneeling in the snow. He wouldn't let this man hurt Legolas again, not while he was still standing – which admittedly wouldn't be too long the way things were going right now. He continued, anger turning his dark blue eyes the colour of black, smouldering coals. "If you wanted an even fight you wouldn't have injured my friend in the first place! You know you could not win if he wasn't weakened! You bask in the glory of the illusion that you fight us fairly, yet you know that you do not! You lack the courage and the skill to match with the elves, so you fight dirty!"

Geran's eyes lit up angrily, unable to discard the elf's words as untrue. He moved forwards quickly, feinting to the left before thrusting to the right, and in his weakened state Celylith didn't have enough time to react. He managed to bring up his sword in front of him, but only to block the blow somewhat. Geran's sword met his with a sharp, cracking noise, and the silver haired elf's sword was wrenched from his grasp, flying through the air as if in slow motion to impact with a small tree some feet away where it finally fell to the ground.

Celylith stared at his sword that so surprisingly had parted company with him, and barely felt the kick that connected with his midsection, driving him to his knees. Only when his body hit the ground the pain set in, exploding in his whole torso, making a blinding white light appear behind his closed eyelids. Nothing mattered except the all-consuming, all-defining pain, and so he barely heard Geran's next words, even thought a small, wry voice in his head informed him that he probably missed nothing important.

"Brave words for someone who is lying on the ground now, elf," Geran spat, stepping closer to his opponent who was swaying on his knees as if a strong wind would blow him over. He gave the silver haired being another kick, knocking him onto his side which earned him a small cry of pain as the elf tried to curl himself into a ball to protect his body from further abuse. Not willing to draw this out any longer, the man raised his sword and brought it down onto the body of the elf – or he wanted to, since his blade was intercepted by a silver flash of steel, only inches away from the downed elf's neck.

The man looked up, surprised, and met the steeliest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen.

"Our game is not over yet, Geran," Legolas informed him coldly, knocking the human's blade away from his injured friend. "You get to him through me."

Geran grinned, yet there was worry and puzzlement in his eyes. How had the elf got off the ground?
"Oh, I think we can arrange something of that sort, Master Elf."

Legolas took a step forward, shielding Celylith's body from view, a cold, deadly grin spreading on his face.
"We'll see. You may be surprised."

Before the man could reply anything, Legolas attacked, putting all his fury, pain and hatred he felt for the man into his movements. While he was spinning and dodging with a speed and grace that would have made anyone doubt that he was anything but completely well, he forced himself to take his thoughts off the elf behind him. He would not think of him now, or he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. It couldn't be Celylith, no matter how much he looked and sounded like him; it was simply not possible, and he wouldn't allow himself to hope before he had made sure that Geran finally regretted having ever laid hands on his friends and him.

Pushing the pain that was washing over him with every move he made to the back of his mind with a strength of will he didn't know he possessed, he lashed out at the human, not hiding a small smile of satisfaction when the man gave a startled cry of pain when the blade connected with his side. Now he could see how he liked it, he decided somewhat gleefully, withdrawing his blade and attacking again, not giving his opponent time to gather his wits.

Geran escaped the skilfully executed blow only by stumbling backwards, his left hand pressed against the gash in his side. How did the elf do it, he wondered, how? He had been on his knees a few minutes ago, defeated, bleeding and unable to defend himself, and now here he was, fighting with a strength and fury that was almost unbelievable.

He looked up into the elf's face, and when he saw the determined, merciless expression in his bright silver-blue eyes, he began to realise that, perhaps, he had underestimated him just a little bit. This elf would kill him without a moment of doubt or a second thought, or he would die trying.

Battling with this rather frightening discovery, he tried to attack again, once more trying to hit the elf in the back like the last time, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to rise again after another hit there. Legolas however recognised the man's intentions quickly enough, and he twisted his body to the side and danced out of reach, leaving Geran wondering how a badly wounded creature such as him could move so fast and sure.

Geran swallowed hard, gathering all his strength for a final attempt. Stepping closer again, he feinted and then jabbed to the left, leaving the elf no other choice but to move to the right and bring up his blade in an attempt to block the sword with his own. While their swords were locked and each of them tried to push the other back and disarm him in the same movement, Geran smiled when he saw what he had been waiting for: The elf's left side was open to attack, concentrated as he was on keeping the man's sword away from his neck.

With an evil smile Geran let go of his sword's hilt with his right and, drawing back a little, smashed his fist onto the elf's bandaged left arm with all the strength he had left. His opponent's reaction was just as he had expected, and yet not so. The elf's face turned a ghostly white in a fraction of a second, and he couldn't hold back the scream of pain that was ripped from his lips by the intense pain. Yet he didn't fall or let go of the sword that he gripped with his right, something that Geran couldn't understand. The elf's arm was broken, and, judging by the blood that was beginning to colour the once green bandage a rusty brown, it was broken badly. The pain had to be agonising; he should be lying on the ground unable to think by now!

All the elven prince did, however, was lean forward a little, agony and determination clouding his eyes. Geran tightened his grip on his sword, wrinkling his brow in confusion, his puzzlement only growing when he felt the elf loosening his hold on his own blade.

He looked up, his heart freezing in his chest when he saw the cold eyes of the fair haired elf that was surveying him without mercy.
"What do you think you're doing?" he gasped as he felt the elf move closer to him, all but letting go of his sword.

Legolas looked back, allowing all the fury, pain and hatred to show in his eyes.

"Keeping a promise," he retorted softly, and with a quick step that brought him as close as possible to Geran he let go of his sword that fell to the ground, therefore unbalancing Geran and causing him to pitch forward.

Giving the surprised man a cold look, Legolas grasped Celylith's dagger that hung on Geran's belt, removing it from its leather sheath with a flick of the wrist. With the same movement he stepped back, and, eyes dark and emotionless, he changed the angle slightly and buried the knife in the human's chest to the hilt.

Geran simply stood there, staring at the dagger's carved hilt even as he fell to the ground when his legs refused to support his weight any longer. He didn't even look up when he felt the elf step closer, his movements inaudible on the soft snow that covered the earth.

The last thing he thought before the darkness drew closer and swallowed him was that Adruran had been right after all: Elves were more trouble than they were worth. With that thought he fell into the blackness he knew was death, his eyes still staring wide and unseeing at the dagger he had taken from the silver haired elf, the dagger that had now taken his own life, just as the other elf had promised him.

Legolas took another step closer to the dead human, his face unreadable as he stared down on him. With an obvious effort he kneeled down next to the man, giving him a long look, before he reached out with his slightly shaking right hand to grasp the knife's carved ivory hilt that contrasted sharply against the man's dark clothing and the slowly spreading red stain around the blade. He took the hilt and swiftly pulled the dagger out, wincing inwardly at the noise his elven ears could very clearly hear when the steel reluctantly slid out.

Shoving the blade into his belt, he took up Aragorn's sword that had fallen from Geran's hand when he had collapsed and regained his footing, using the rest of his strength that was ebbing fast now that the adrenaline that had kept him upright was fading. He gave Geran's body another long look, wondering what it had been that had made him so twisted and cruel. The man had hardly been older than Aragorn; what had it been that had turned him into what he had been? What kind of being, of the second born or not, enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering so much that, in the end, its consequences had taken his own life?

These thoughts weighted heavily on the prince's mind when he heard a soft, rather weak voice, a voice that once again caused his heart to start beating so fast that it felt as if it would burst any second now.
"Legolas?"

The fair haired elf didn't turn around, he couldn't. For now he had the hope that, somehow, Celylith had survived, that he was not dead and the men had been mistaken, but if he turned, it would all turn to ashes. He couldn't face reality, it was so much nicer to have a little hope, after all…

The voice that sounded so much like his childhood friend's sounded again, slight worry in it now, and a hand was placed on his shoulder.
"Legolas? Are you alright? Legolas!"

The hand started to tighten on his good shoulder and to turn him around, and still Legolas resisted. He didn't want to see that he was imagining things, he didn't want to feel how the tiny sparkle of hope was extinguished in his heart, he didn't want to fall back into the dark chasm of despair, he didn't…

A second, slightly trembling hand joined the first, turning him around with gentle strength.
"Legolas? What is it? Look at me, my lord, please!"

The worry and fear in the familiar voice finally caused him to lift his chin and open his tightly closed eyes, and he felt how tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to fall on pale cheeks. O the Valar, it was not possible! Celylith was dead, he knew he was, and yet here he stood, in front of him, and even though his scratched face was deathly pale, his hand that was still gripping his shoulder felt alive and real enough.

Legolas bit down on his split bottom lip, refusing to let the tears fall. He slowly reached out with his right hand, almost afraid to come too close to the silver haired elf that stared at him in concern, almost afraid that he might vanish when he tried to touch him, an illusion that his hurting mind had made up to ease his pain.

Yet when he reached out with trembling fingers, his friend's image did not vanish and disappear, and his hand he had extended touched the other elf's cheek. Legolas quickly withdrew his hand as if he had burnt himself and stared at the silver haired elf, the small, tentative spark of hope growing in his chest.

"Celylith?" he asked in a broken voice, a voice that sounded foreign to his own ears, tears streaming down his cheeks now. "Elbereth, is that really you, mellonamin?"

Celylith looked back at his prince, confusion and pain warring on his face. He couldn't understand why Legolas looked shocked to the very core of his being, as if he had seen a ghost… The silver haired elf took a deep, shocked breath, finally realising what the man had meant when he had said he had "returned from the dead". Legolas had thought he was dead, he had thought the arrow had killed him!

He wanted to say so many things, to reassure his friend who had grieved for him for more nearly two days, but he couldn't find a single word that would have described his feelings, and so he simply smiled at his friend and tightened his hold on his shoulder, partly to reassure the other elf with his touch and partly because he was beginning to sense how his strength was beginning to desert him. It had taken him a long time to get back to his feet, and if he wasn't careful, he would fall down again.

"Of course, Legolas," Celylith smiled at the wide-eyed elven prince. "Of course it is me. You didn't think I would leave you and Estel behind just like that, did you?"

A brilliant, relieved smile spread on his friend's face, rivalling the sun's light that was rising behind them in its intensity. Before the elven warrior could say or do anything else, he felt himself being embraced in a bear hug of such strength that he was sure that he could hear a few ribs break. He was just trying to remind his friend and prince that even elves needed some oxygen from time to time – a rather difficult enterprise for he had absolutely no air left – when Legolas let go of him and took a step back, sudden fury in his eyes.

Legolas grabbed the stunned elf's forearms tightly, bright, laughing eyes blazing in his face.
"Don't you – ever – do that again! Elbereth, I thought you were dead! I grieved for you for two days, we both did! I – thought – you – were – dead!"

Celylith smiled softly at his friend, not able to even begin to imagine what his friend had gone through these past two days.
"But I am not. I live, and so do you. That is all that matters, my friend."

Legolas shook his head that was right now spinning with so many questions that he didn't even know where to start asking, and at the moment none of them seemed even the slightest bit important, since the joy in his heart drowned out everything else, even the pain and weakness in his body. Celylith was alive, he had not died, he was alive, thank Ilúvatar, he was alive…

"Where were you?" he began to ask, studying his friend's face which he had never thought to see again. "What happened? How … Estel!" A sudden thought shot through him, making him look up wildly. "We need to get back to him! I haven't seen him since the battle started and he was feverish to begin with and Hanar might have found him and we must make sure that he is alright and…"

He would have said more but was interrupted by the clear, pealing sound of Celylith's laughter, and the realisation that he would get to hear it many more times was almost enough to make the tears start falling again. Legolas shook his head almost angrily, pushing back these feelings. They weren't safe yet, and he would be damned if he lost it now.

Celylith stopped chuckling, feeling so relieved that both his prince and most probably Aragorn were still alive that he was unable to suppress the wide grin that was still visible on his face.
"Peace, Legolas. We will find him; it appears that the battle is over."

Legolas turned his head slightly to the side, and really, the sounds of fighting had dissipated. The sounds of the forest were only now and then interrupted by gruff shouts and orders; it appeared that the small beings had indeed been victorious.

"We will," he nodded, beginning to sway slightly from side to side, his adrenaline and strength nearly spent. Remembering the dagger he had taken from Geran, he slowly reached for the weapon and, after some failed tries he really could not explain, pulled it out. He gave his friend a small smile and offered him the weapon hilt first. "This belongs to you, I believe."

"I had wondered where it'd gone," Celylith mumbled and reached for the knife, stroking softly about the carved hilt before he took it. The dagger was beautiful; his sister had got it for him in Lothlórien while she had been visiting their grandparents there. He slowly raised his eyes to meet his friend's, serious. "Thank you. I would have greatly missed it. Why did that human take it?"

Legolas' eyes darkened as they began to push their way through the undergrowth.
"He took it as a trophy." Celylith looked at him and he grimaced, his left arm pressed against his chest. "Don't ask. I will tell you later, but first we must find Aragorn."

About three and a half steps later, Legolas' strength was finally spent and he blindly grasped for a nearby tree as his knees buckled, causing Celylith to rush forward. The silver haired elf caught his friend just in time to avoid a collision with either the ground or the tree trunk, ignoring his own body that told him insistently that rushing anywhere in his current condition could only be described as exceptionally stupid.

"You need help," he stated slowly as he swallowed hard, trying to push back the pain of his own injuries. "Here, lean on me and…"

Legolas raised his head, eyes dark in his white face.
"I am not crippled, you are the one that needs help if you ask me. I can walk."

Celylith scowled at the other elf, unfortunately feeling much too weak to be able to keep it up for long.
"As can I." He saw the stubborn expression on Legolas' face and relented, sighing softly. "Lean on me and I will lean on you or we will never get down into that accursed camp."

The elven prince smirked, but even the joy at being able to argue with his friend was not able to mask the exhaustion and pain he felt.
"Of course you can walk, mellonamin. Whatever made me doubt that? Wait, it might have been the fact that you're ready to drop any second, or…"

"Look who's talking," Celylith grumbled under his breath, grasping the elven prince's shoulder as they slowly made their way down the path that led down into the humans' camp.

Legolas' voice interrupted the brief silence that had fallen between the two of them.

"Celylith?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Where did all the dwarves come from?"




A much longer time later than it should have taken them they reached the edge of the main fire place, and stopped for a second to regain their bearings.

The dwarves had indeed emerged victorious, and everywhere in the camp the small beings could be seen, searching the tents for any humans that might have hidden there, guarding the prisoners – Legolas noted, to his shame with quite a bit of satisfaction, that they were few – and caring for their wounded. Next to a great, roaring fire in the middle of the small clearing dwarven healers bustled to and fro, cleaning, bandaging and splinting numerous wounds, apparently much to the dismay of the majority of the patients.

The elves' eyes quickly wandered over the dwarven healers and the beings they tended to, and to their disappointment they soon saw that Aragorn was not among them. Legolas' keen eyes began to survey the rest of the camp, panic beginning to fill his heart when he remembered Geran's gleeful smile when he had stated that Aragorn would die. What if Hanar had indeed found him, what if he was wounded, lying unconscious somewhere here in this camp, what if he had just found one friend to lose the other?

The fair haired elf's body slumped against his companion when he thought about that possibility, and Celylith was just contemplating dragging his prince over to the healers – if he was able to walk that far himself – when a gruff dwarven voice made both of them turn around.

"Hey! Master Celylith! Prince Legolas!"

Celylith resisted the urge to clamp his eyes shut; why had it to be that dwarf, why had it be to be him? Forcing a smile onto his lips, he turned, tightening his grip on Legolas' shoulder in attempt to keep both of them upright.

"Master Frerin."

He ignored his elven friend's raised eyebrow at his obvious familiarity with the dwarf and looked at the smaller being, doing his best to appear innocent.

Frerin simply folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the tall elf.
"Weren't you supposed to stay with you Nabur and the horses?"

Celylith gave the dwarf a small, insincere smile. Frerin and his brother Frór were the most annoying dwarves he had ever met, and the fact that they and the other members of their patrol had saved his life didn't help matters either.
"I was?"

Frerin shook his head unwillingly, stroking with a hand over his bushy dark beard. Elves!
"You can take that up with King Dáin, it is none of my concern." Celylith was just about to agree when the smaller being continued, looking both of them up and down. "I was sent here to find you. We must hurry."

"Hurry?" Celylith asked, leaning a bit more heavily upon Legolas' shoulder, which was not that good an idea since his friend was barely conscious by now. He frowned, trying to concentrate despite the pain that was consuming every square inch of his back. Somehow in the course of this conversation he had got lost. "Hurry where? And why? Who sent you to find us?"

The dwarven warrior shook his head again, adjusting the axe on his belt. Did one have to spell everything out for this race?
"Why, young Strider of course. He got rather agitated when we wouldn't leave him and search for you right away."

At that Legolas' head shot up, and he pushed back the unconsciousness that was beginning to envelop his mind.
"Strider? You have found him? Where is he?"

"I will take you to him," Frerin sighed impatiently. He turned, motioning the two of them to follow him. "My brother, the king and a few healers are with him. Come with me."

Trading a concerned look, the elves slowly began to follow the dwarf. On their way over to where the humans' horses were kept they noted that only a part of the dwarves were still in the camp; the rest was probably up the mountain trying to save what they could of the treasure. Legolas shrugged inwardly. He didn't care about the gold in the slightest, all he was interested in was his human friend.

After a few more minutes, they reached a small group of dwarves that were standing next to a rather large rock, and were almost thrown to the ground by Rashwe and Celylith's horse that was mad with joy upon seeing its master again. For a brief moment Legolas wondered why the horses were here and had not remained in the woods as he had ordered before he abandoned the line of thought with an inward shrug. It was Rashwe he was talking about; he hadn't really expected the animal to heed his commands. While Celylith remained behind a bit to calm the prancing animal that was right now trying to lick his face, Legolas stepped closer to the dwarves, and had to smile when he heard Aragorn's weak, but still determined voice.

"I told you he was over by the trees when I last saw him! Please, you must look for him … he will have found some kind of trouble, he always does…"

A dwarf next somewhere to Legolas' right grumbled, and the elf identified him as Frór, the one who had insulted his father when they had arrived at Erebor. He knew that he should still feel angry with the small being, but he just couldn't muster the strength for it.

"We will find him, lad, never fear. If he's still alive we'll bring him here, but first you will relax and let the healers have a look at you! You are barely conscious as it is!"

Legolas took another step closer to where his friend lay, and could only shake his head in dismay when he saw the man's body. Aragorn was lying in the snow, the dwarves clustering around him and his horse standing behind his head, shooting the small beings suspicious glances. The young ranger's face was ghostly pale now except for the two specks of red up on his cheekbones, and his entire right side was stained with blood from a large gash in his shoulder. The elf opened his mouth for an admonishing lecture before he realised that he himself was probably not looking much better and closed it again with a small snap.

Aragorn turned his face to the right, feverish eyes clinging to the dwarf's face. It was obvious that the man hadn't really understood what Frór had said.
"You must find him … Legolas is injured, he needs help … he…"

"…is fine," the elven prince interrupted his friend and kneeled down next to the man, or that was what he would've called it. Every other person would have used the term "collapse".

"Legolas!" Aragorn croaked, silver eyes lightening up when he saw his elven friend's face. "Are you alright? What about Geran? Did he hurt you?"

Next to the ranger, King Dáin looked up sharply. He hadn't heard the elf approach, but now that he saw him, he had to admit that he looked terrible. He was about as pale as the ranger and just as bruised, but there was a thick, blood-soaked bandage on his left arm and shoulder, and blood could also be seen on his back where a rapidly spreading red stain coloured the grey cloak a dark brown colour.

He almost groaned aloud. The Elvenking would not be happy about this…

Legolas took his friend's hand, forcing himself to smile when he saw that Aragorn's eyes were slowly drifting shut while a dwarf healer was trying to fasten a bandage on his shoulder wound.
"I am just fine, my friend. Geran is dead, and I even found something you might like to see again."

The dwarf king raised his eyes along with the young human, and almost closed them when he saw the silver haired elf stand in front of them, swaying slightly and flanked by two horses that were eyeing him and his men hostilely. The elf that was supposed to stay with the horses. The elf he had promised his master healer would stay with the horses. Dáin slowly shook his head. O Mahal, why him?

Aragorn just stared at the silver haired elf, clearly not believing what his eyes were seeing.
"You are dead," he whispered softly, grey eyes huge and slightly glazed in his face. "You are dead!" He slowly closed his eyes and opened them again, blinking up at the tall figure of the elf. Confusion creased his brow when he finally asked, "Celylith? You … how …"

Celylith smiled down on the young human, deciding that he was getting slightly tired of that reaction. He inconspicuously grabbed his horse's mane to remain standing, figuring that it would be neither graceful nor befitting an elven warrior if he fainted now.
"You need more than a little arrow to get rid of me, Estel, you should know that."

The ranger's face slowly broke into a smile, and he minutely shook his head.
"First Adruran and then you … too many surprises … for one day…"

Legolas who had leaned back against the boulder forced his eyes to open, searching his friend's fever-flushed face.
"Adruran?"

"He's gone, he left," Aragorn mumbled, unable to fight off the darkness any longer. "It's … a long … st…"

He lost consciousness in mid-sentence, and Legolas leaned forward a little, anxiously feeling his friend's pulse. He sighed with relief when he found one, and straightened up to meet the concerned faces of the dwarves around him.

"He lives." The relief of finding Aragorn alive was taking its toll, and the last of his strength vanished. Unconsciousness began to wrap its misty talons around his mind, but he fought it off for a second longer, looking earnestly at the dwarven healer. "He has a fever … there are some infected slashes on his chest and back … and I don't think he found any water, he is dehydrated…"

"We will care for him – and all of you," Dáin assured him, giving the elf who was obviously just losing his fight with unconsciousness a serious look. "My healers will do what they can. These men will never trouble any of us again, that I promise you."

Legolas stared at the face of the dwarf king, noting with some surprise that it was beginning to blur in front of his eyes. His voice seemed to come from a very long distance away, and try as he might, he just couldn't understand what he was saying. With an inward shrug he gave in to the blackness and let himself be carried away with it, deciding that, after all, he had never understood the dwarves, so this was nothing exceptional.

King Dáin watched how the elven prince's eyes rolled back into his skull and his head fell to the side against the rock he was leaning against, consciousness finally fleeing his torn body, something the dwarf had been secretly expecting since he had laid eyes on him. It was a miracle he had remained conscious as long as he had.

Slowly his eyes travelled over Strider's unconscious body, over to Prince Legolas' and then to that of Lord Celylith who looked as if he wasn't far behind. He suppressed another groan.

Dofur would have his head for this.





TBC...





gonnhirrim - 'Masters of Stone', dwarves
mellonamin - my friend




Well, the men got what they deserved. *nods contently* I hope you're not too cross that I let him live, I liked him, kind of. Plus, I was running out of ideas to kill the men, and it would have been very much cliché if all of the bad guys died again, right? Right. So, essentially he was very lucky. *g* And I just might use him again in a future story - then he would be very unlucky... *g* Okay, so stay tuned for the next chapter, which wraps up everything nicely and which should be here Monday-ish. Might even be Sunday. Perhaps. As always, reviews help. *g* So, please? Pretty please?

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Additional A/N:

Ellemire2 - Well, the ending was one of these things that somehow had got stuck in my head, and so I had to write it. It made the chappie horribly long, but hey, there was nothing I can do... *g* Thanks for reviewing!
XsilicaX - I agree, I didn't think it was a realy cliffy myself, but I know you people. No matter how nice my endings are, somebody will always yell "Cliffy! You're mean!" or something like that. So I've just accepted that all my endings appear to be cliffies, in a way... LOL, Celylith falling off his horse right onto Geran? That's an interesting idea... *g* *reads her idea of what will happen* Ah well, that doesn't sound _that_ wrong. Parts of it I mean, and I really like the idea to give Celylith a medal - he certainly earned one... And I'm sure Estel would LOVE to lie down in a bed right now, but unfortunately they are in the middle of nowhere where there ARE no beds! *g* Poor ranger... And you don't have to feel bad about pointing things out to me, really. English isn't my first language, so there are bound to be some mistakes in the whole thing. And if nobody tells me, everybody will laugh about me, so thank you for telling me! *huggles Cathy* Thanks!
Dragonfly - Yes, they have made it just in time. Good little dwarvies. *pats their heads* Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Tapetum Lucidum - *winces* No, Thranduil and Elrond would NOT have been happy - and they _will_ not be happy once they hear about it... I thought it was a pretty good plan myself, or it would have been had it included anyone else than Aragorn. That boy attracts trouble like nothing else... *g* LOL, yes, I would have been _slightly_ surprised too if an elf barged into my tent, waving a knife and looking as if he had spent the last few days in Minas Morgul. Only slightly, of course... *g* And I WILL tell Geran that Legolas does in fact belong to you, but to be honest, I don't think he'll believe me. And that quote wasn't from PotC! Nu-uh! *looks sheepishly* Okay, maybe it was...
Coreinha - *in the process of being dragged around by an excited Cor* Uh, thank you, it's great you liked the chapter - could you let go of me please? Just a question? Please? *snatches dwarves, Legolas, Aragorn and Celylith back* No! How many times have I... *trails off* Ah well, you can have them back after the chappie, okay?
Nikara - *g* Poor Estel indeed. I think right now he would take _any_ foul potion Elrond could come up with! *blushes* Thank you so much for your kind words, and it's really great you enjoy this so much! I hope you'll like this next chapter as well!
Andboriel Swann - Indeed, the dwarves are coming, and not a moment too soon... And yes, I agree, it wasn't a real cliffy. But I've learned that, no matter how nice I end a chapter, someone will jump up and yell "That _was_ a cliffy!", so I just say it's a cliffy and everybody's happy... Thanks a lot for the review!
Aratfeniel - But why stop being such a lunatic when it's so much fun? I talk to myself all the time, and to my laptop, and to my computer, and to screwdrivers, and to... And still: I'm perfectly normal! *g* Well, if you only have 20-30 minutes on the computer then I hope you're a fast reader, because this chapter's even longer than the last. Unfortunately. *grrr*
Gwyn - You're right, sometimes they are indeed incredibly lucky. But only after they've had the worst luck of the past age... *g* Thanks a lot, my family's back to normal - or as normal as we were before, which is not very normal. It was all my brother's fault anyway... *trails off* Men.
CrazyLOTRfan - Yes, the dwarves are here. Good little dwarves. And yes, we are going to have a nice little reunion where Legolas faints when seeing his friend ... Just kidding, don't worry. Would have been fun, though... *g*
Mouse5 - *evil grin* Yes, Legolas is slightly surprised at the moment... I have no idea why FF.net does the things it does, it happens quite a lot that it doesn't notify people that someone's updated. *shrugs* It's a mystery, and it will forever remain that way if you ask me... I hope you had fun watching PotC! It's a very nice movie, and Johnny Depp is a GOD. I mean it. A GOD.
Strider's Girl - Yes, so many questions... What will the dwarves do? What will Legolas do? What will Celylith do? Ah, we may never know - unless we read the chapter! *g* Thanks a lot for all your reviews!
Mer - Ah, the reunion with Celylith ... yes, that's quite sweet. I like Celylith, did I mention that? *huggles elven warrior* Thank you for reviewing, they do encourage me! Really!
Shaz1 - *g* Thanks a lot! It's always nice to hear that someone likes my weird little story! Thanks a lot for letting me know you like it - I would even have been happy if you'd said that you didn't like it, since I'm addicted to reviews, but that's another story... *g*
Leggylover03 - *sighs* I knew you would say that. Aragorn pain... But then again, we have even more Aragorn pain in this chappie, so you should like this one as well. Thanks btw, the family thing had resolved itself - more or less. I didn't find a steak knife in my laptop, so that's something... *g*
Alex Mistress Squirrel - *buries head in hands* I know! It's long - too long! I just couldn't finish it any sooner, I don't know why either ... it's the characters' fault, I swear! *blushes* "The Queen of Suspense" - I like that! Thanks a lot! Now I feel _really_ important...
Zinnith - Oh, I know what it's like! I like cliffies only when I write them, when I have to read them they transform me into a quivering mass on the ground that can't think straight for days... *g* Mutant hamsters? I think I know them as well - they eat the easiest words when I want to write them, such as "suspect" or something like that! Once I thought for ten minutes until I remembered that! And without my faithful little dictionary I never go anywhere - unless the hamsters have eaten the words that is, of course... *g* Thanks a lot for your reviews! I really enjoyed them!
Fliewatuet - Yup, the dwarves are very good at dramatic entrances. Must have been the whole Battle of Five Armies thing... *g* And yes, Legolas and Aragorn could use a warm bed, healers, good luck, athelas, a miracle, Getorate, Red Bull, water, a blanket, an elven army, kevlar vests and MANY other things - unfortunately they don't have them, which makes it more enjoyable for us. *shakes head* Poor little things. And I _will_ give them a break! A bit later... *g*
Cestari - You're quite right, you know. They either have horribly bad luck or very very good luck. *shrugs* They never do anything half way, do they? *g* Great you still like the stories, thank you very much for all your reviews!
Halo - *sighs tiredly and grabs the back of Halo's shirt* You - are - not - to - hurt - my - characters - until - I - allow - you - to! Understood? Believe it or not, I NEED Geran and Hanar, at least for a little while, okay? So, calm down, put away your hammer and read the next bit, okay? Okay. *g*
Imbefaniel - Uh, my review replies cheer you up? *looks at the nonsense she's written* Okay, if it does... Well, I hope you're alright, that I didn't anger you too much and that this chapter is soon enough to make sure that you don't borrow Geran's toy. *g*
Cara - Well, yes, on first glance it really appears that Adruran is losing it, right? I mean, really, it's understandable, the things he has to deal with ... insolent subordinates ... elven princes and rangers ... dwarves ... demon-horses... *g* I have to admit, the Labrador puppy in infinitely scarier than deatht threats, but I have to tell you that I am immune to the puppy dog look! We have a Retriever, so I'm used to that particular look... *g* Thanks a lot for the review!
TrinityTheSheDevil - Yes, indeed, Aragorn is quite hurt at the moment. I don't know how he does it either, it just happens. *shrugs* Must be his good looks. *huggles her carefully* I hope you're better now?! Colds are quite nasty! But your sounds ... interesting! Tiny rangers floating around your head? I don't think that that's a good sign ... *g*
TigerLily713 - Thank you! Detail is what makes a story readable, that's what I think anyway. There are lots of good plots and storylines out there which just die because there's no detail... *sighs* It's quite sad, actually... I hope you'll like this bit as well!
Asha Dreamweaver - *blushes* I'm not brilliant! I'm brilliantly insane, maybe, but brilliant ... nah. Thanks for saying it anyway! *g* And I do agree: One Cornallar was more than enough, I don't think that ME is ready for a second one. Well, let's just say that Legolas is slightly surprised by recent developments, but he's quite good at adapting. *pats elven prince's head* Good little elf. Thanks for all your reviews, btw! *huggles*
Teddybear888 - Well, even a small review is better than no review! Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying this!
Critternut - OF COURSE I'm replying to reviews this chapter. It was a once-only thing last time - I hope. *g* Family can indeed be very stressful, and it's twice as bad when your parents are divorced. *shudders* It's makes it VERY complicated! And I agree, Legolas and Estel are very lucky that the dwarves came, otherwise they would be quite dead right now. Lucky them. *huggles* Thanks a lot for all your reviews!
Sirithiliel - LOL, Legolas is a wizard? Well, he's immortal, so you only need to imagine a beard, a staff and a pointy hat! I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were writing a story. I have so little time online, especially when I'm writing myself, that I hardly have the chance to check out other stories - I haven't even read Cassia's newest one! *shakes head* Sad, that's what it is... If I have a little time to spare I'll read yours, I promise. So that would be in a year or two... *g*
Jazmin3 Firewing - Uhm, I'm sorry? *inches backwards* It's not me that loves evil cliffies, it's my alter ego! Really! She makes me do all these evil things! *gulps* You will resurrect (almost spelt correctly! *g*) Glorfindel's balrog? Okay, that does NOT sound very healthy... Hope this is soon enough then?
Sam - Thank you very much for telling me you like this twisted little story! It's always wonderful to hear that someone likes what you write - reviews really help me a lot. I hope you like this bit as well, and thanks again for reviewing!
A Person - Thanks a lot, the family thing has reslved itself, more or less and as much as it can, I guess. It's great to hear that you still like the story, just one question: What's a 'maush pit'? It didn't make much sense to me...
Bailey - What do you mean what took me so long? I updated on time, didn't I? And there's still that thing called RL that can get really annoying if you don't pay it the due attention... *g* Hmm, what took the dwarves so long ... theire legs are quite short and so... No, J/k, it's not their fault, it's my alter ego's. She wanted the dwarves to arrive at the last possible moment, so... *g* I think the plan would have been good had both of them been fine, but as it was you're right: It was stupid. And Legolas wanted to call the horses at the end, but the dwarves barged in so he couldn't. And it would have been stupid if he'd told Adruran and Co. that he was planning to call them, huh? I mean, element of surprise and all that? *g*
Amelie - Oh, please do not get your mother cross with you because you want to review! It's better to have one review less than to have a strangled reviewer... *g* Kill Celylith? Hmm, I never contemplated that, but now that you mention it, it's a very nice idea... *g* J/k. Oh, I have watched Ice Age and I loved it! Sid - Lord of the Flames... *starts giggling* A very funny movie... *takes all purpose stick, a fake smile on her face* Oh ... thank you ... just what I always wanted ... how very thoughtful of you... *g* And I did NOT take many quotes from the movie. I admit that "You forget your place" is from PotC, but it's not as if they have a copyright on it or something! *mumbles under her breath* Did not...
Lita of Jupiter - Hmm, why did you need to pluck up your courage to read my stories? It's not as if they bite or something! At least I hope so... Anyway, great you decided to read them, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this as well! Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Firniswin - LOL, the dwarves are 'small...and...big hearted..and they live in caves'? That's indeed a very interesting desciption - accurate nonetheless! Great you got used to the cliffies though, I think that's the only way you can survive reading my weird little stories! And I like your reviews! There's nothing wrong with them! Thank you! *huggles* Don't stop reviewing, I would miss you!
Itheilden - *darkly* Oh yes, they will. Get themselves killed one day, I mean. They're trouble-magnets, that's what they are! *shakes head* The two of them, honestly... Thanks a lot for reviewing, you can't imagine how much they encourage me!
Elenora1 - *grabs Elenora before she can be blown away by her story* Ha! Gotcha! You don't get away that easily! *g* I am very sorry about the crease in your backside, but I don't even try to keep you on your edge of your seat! It's my alter ego, I swear! Believe me, it is my pleasure of sharing my demented little stories with the rest of you, and I hope that this chapter doesn't diappoint you. *sweatdrops* Killing people is always quite hard...
Helen T - I know. FF.net hates me and doesn't tell people I've updated and doesn't let them review and stuff like that - it's typical! But then again, I hate it right back, so I guess it's okay... *g* For Thranduil's reaction you will have to wait a bit longer I fear, but the rest of your questions should be answered!
Ellyrianna - Yes, Legolas can be very self-sacrificing from time to time, it's really something he has to learn to cope with, that death wish. I mean, really... *shakes head* Stubborn elf. LOL, me too, I mean I wouldn't have left the cave in the first place if I would have been Aragorn! He's reckless and stupid, that's what he is... And yes, I'm still giving away Nólad clones, so *hands her a Nólad* here you go! Have fun together! (not what YOU think! *g*) The thing is though: I don't realy understand how he could be a healer in your story, since he ... well, he wasn't a healer at all? I don't really get it, I mean, his character DIED. As in dead. And I don't think he was in Lórien more than a couple of times. You may of course take his name and everything, I mean, it's not as if I have a copyright, but I don't really get it, I'm afraid... Oh, you're learning Hebrew? I was contemplating that myself once, but somehow was too busy. I was always interested in the alühabet though, I love to learn different alphabet, I love the Greek one... *g* Okay, I'm insane and shutting up now.
Firnsarnien - It wasn't a bad cliffy, at least that's what I've been told. *nods* It's your vivid imagination, that's all. Me? Enjoying heart-stopping moments or torturing my readers? NEVER... *g* Great to see that you're sitting back MEEKLY in your chair; I hope this update is soon enough? Just so you can remain sitting there, meekly... *g*
Tithen Min - Yes, OF COURSE I'm mad! You never even reviewed ONCE!? Bad, bad person! *g* J/k, of course I'm not mad. I'm just glad you decided to review, that's all. I don't think you're mad, at least not madder than the rest of us, and thank you very much for all your kind words! It's great to hear that you like my weird litle stories! Thanks again for reviewing!
Zam - Uhm, Celylith is ...busy. That's what he is. Don't worry though, he'll be in this chapter so you can smother him with your love again... *g* Naugrimaha, huh? So, Naugrim = Dwarves, or Stunted People, and aha = rage. So, dwarf-rage or something like that, right? Right? Mhahaha, I didn't even have to look it up because I knew what aha means sine it's the name of a Tengwar letter and... *trails off* All things you don't want to know. LOL, you're summoning lightning? Uh... *ducks and watches as Zam is burnt to a crisp* That's what I thought. *grabs her before she can hug Gwemyr to death* Back, evil girl! I still need him! Snikdul! *grumbles* Where is that orc horde when you need it? But I'm afraid that neither you, nor Rando and his hate fish shall make me tell you who Adruran's lord is - that's for the next story, sorry... *g*
Carrie5 - I still have to get used to the 5 behind your name. For a while I didn't recognise you... *g* An American History quiz? Uh, that wouldn't work out very well for me. I wouldn't get past the declaration of independence, I'm afraid.. *g* Great you liked the brush, Legolas deserved it too, being the prissy elf that he is. *nods* He did. I for my part pity Celylith most of all, since he had to put up with BOTH of them, which is really enough to drive anyone insane... Glad to see that you're back, really, I missed you! I shal go and read that chapter of yours immediately - or make that soon... *g*
Singing Wolf - Hmm, just one at a time? Where's the fun in THAT? *evil grin* But I've done that, with Legolas in chapter ... 8/9 I think and with Aragorn in chapter 11/12, besides, now it's time for the great finale, normal rules don't apply... *g* Thanks a lot for the review, it's always great to hear that someone enjoys my weird little stories! Thanks!
NaughtyNat - Oh, you're resisting the lure of homework for my story? Thanks! *g* And I agree, Legolas should have known that Aragorn would get caught, but hey: Never underestimate the power of positive thinking! It's truly a good thing that he's good at bluffing, I could never keep a straight face! I'm a dismal poker player too... *sighs sadly* What do you mean, character deaths? Do you mean Celylith? Jeez, you will never let me live that one down, huh? He's fine, okay? *looks at swaying elven warrior* Ah well, he will be. In time. *evil grin*
Aron - Hmm, I think that you only can survive these situations they find themselve in all the time IF you take some time to care for your best friend. Plus it's fun to write, but that's a different story... LOL, Aragorn ripping the bad guys to pieces, as Chewie of course, that's a very interesting idea indeed! *g* Somehow I can really imagine it... Oh, that's too much! Legolas is squirrel now? C-3PO was fine, but a squirrel... *shakes head* We're insane. Indeed, never deviate from the plan, we all know how that's bound to end - but he didn't listen to me either. *sighs* Stubborn ranger... And yes, Geran is indeed rather smart when it comes to tormenting people - that makes him dangerous. The smart ones are always the most dangerous, just look at Adruran. LOL, the cavalry has arrived, in form of small, furious dwarves. Better than nothing, I guess! Thanks once again for all your wonderful reviews, I'm enjoying them immensely!
Lady Sandry - *nods* Yeah, we're always very quick with judging other people, aren't we? It's truly good Legolas saw how wrong that is... *g* Oh, and I _definitely_ would love to have a friend like Aragorn. Or better yet, to _have_ Aragorn... *dreamy sigh* Okay, let's change the topic, shall we? *g* And yes, you're right, it's very hard to write emotional men/elves. The reunion was very hard to write, because I mean, they're still males, aren't they? And males are stupid... Never fear, I would never permanently hurt Aragorn or Legolas, I'm not THAT stupid! And thanks, the family crisis resolved itself, I think...
Alexa - Yup, Legolas sometimes really is stupid, but that makes him so adorable, doesn't it? Uhm, the playing-hockey-with-a-cold-thing sounds interesting - not really advisable, but interesting... *g* Great to see that you still like it, don't worry, your elf will be fine - eventually. I promise! *g* Hope you get better soon!

See? I replied to this lot! I'm very sorry not replying to the last chapter, but there really was no way I could. Thank you all very much for your wonderful reviews! You continually make my day! *huggles*