Here it is, the last chapter! Wow, I can't believe that my story is over! (whew, I survived, and now summer is here!) There is going to be an epilogue to this story coming up right after this chapter, I'll have it posted by tomorrow (Saturday) morning at the latest.

I am really glad that everyone has enjoyed my writing so much, Thank-You all who have reviewed me! I love all my reviewers: )

Also, on a note, I plan to write more fics, but because of a bet with my friend, the next fic won't be LOTR. (she said I couldn't go 40 days without it. I'll show her!!!) I think it will probably be Harry Potter, a story focusing on Remus Lupin. So I invite you all to check it out if you wish. (once I get it posted that is.)

Again, Thanks to everyone! I really hope that this last chapter delivers!

A Red Sun Sets

The ship rocked from side to side, water sloshed around on the floor, pouring over Gimli's feet. He could feel how cold it was even through the thick leather of his boots. He held his axe in his hand, but only had it half-raised, not wishing to spook the corsair into jerking the knife.

For once the dwarf wasn't sure of what to do in a battle. At situations like these, where delicacy was required, he usually leaned back upon Aragorn to get them through. The man had a gift with persuasion. But now it was only himself.

The elven boy was staring at him, eyes opened wide. He had probably been curious by the sounds of battle and had ventured away from the others to see what was happening. He had most likely crashed headfirst into the fleeing enemy. Typical of a corsair, Gimli thought, to find the coward's way out.

The corsair sneered at him, "Set your weapon down dwarf."

"Let the boy go first."

"I'll give you three seconds and then..." He trailed off, pressing the blade tip until a dot of blood swelled red underneath it.

His eyes burning with anger, Gimli lowered his axe. The water completely covered it. The corsair grinned.

"Now step aside."

Gimli glared at him, but moved over. The man walked forward to where the axe was and kicked it behind him. Gimli heard it slide, stopping to his right. He tensed.

As the corsair made to go past him, Gimli's eyes met with those of the boy. Though they were still wide, most of the shock had left them. They were eyes full of resoluteness, and with a flash of understanding Gimli knew what was going to happen.

The elvish child lifted his foot as if taking another step, and then with all of his races' speed, brought it crashing down upon the corsair's foot. It was as quick as lighting. At the same time, Gimli dove towards his right, reaching desperately for his axe.

The corsair howled with pain and surprise. Grabbing at his foot with one hand, he lost his balance, and jerked his other arm outwards to keep it. Gimli picked up his axe, turning just in time to see a spray of blood, and to hear the boy cry out.

Sharp jagged pains kept breaking through the darkness. It felt as if someone were taking long needles and repeatedly sinking them into his side. Every breath brought the pain closer and pushed the comforting blackness farther out of reach.

With a weak groan and much effort Aragorn opened his eyes. Blearily he gazed about, trying to remember exactly what had happened. His brain felt slow and stupid, and his body extremely stiff and sore. With each breath his ribs seemed to grate against his insides, making it hard for him to concentrate upon anything.

He realized belatedly that something was covering him, a cloak. Turning his head, he soon discovered its source. Legolas lay not two paces off; the elf's eyes were shut and his breathing even.

Though he had no idea how it was that Legolas was with him, Aragorn gave it no second thought. Immense thankfulness flooded through him. He opened his mouth, intending to rouse the elf by means of a call, but found he could hardly manage a whisper. His mouth and throat felt as dry as the desert, as if the insides were coated with ashes. He coughed, but all that produced was a painful burn in his lungs, in addition to the needle pains in his side. Dimly he wondered what exactly had happened to him.

"Legolas." This time his voice came out as a half croak. But it seemed to be enough. The elf's eyes fluttered, then flew open, coming to meet the ranger's. He sprang up from his position and moved to Aragorn's side.

"Are you alright? How long have you been awake? Can you remember what happened to you? Can you understand--"

Aragorn held up a hand, cutting short Legolas's flow of worried questions. He coughed again and wished he hadn't, but Legolas understood.

The elf rose, "I shall try to find you some water."

Aragorn nodded to show his thanks, and sank back against the tree again. Legolas moved off, but he only half noticed this. The world swam before him, fading in and out before his vision, but sharpening with each intake of breath, which sent his ribs grating him.

Something cold trickled down his the back of his throat, and with a start he realized that Legolas had returned, and that he had not noticed until the elf had assisted him to drink. How long had it been? He couldn't tell and this dismayed and frightened him. He was in horrible shape.

He groaned again as he realized that Legolas was talking to him and he hadn't heard. But the water had helped. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Legolas looked down at him, worry showing plain across his features, "I asked if the water helped, and if you feel injured anywhere?"

"My ribs...my ribs need to be set again I think. How did you...where are we?"

Legolas proceeded to expose Aragorn's chest. The man winced as the elf carefully peeled the tunic back, it being still somewhat wet. The side was covered in dark, ugly bruises.

"You fell overboard remember?"

Far off in his mind Aragorn recalled the sensation of falling, and the shocked feeling of the water rushing up to meet him. "Yes."

"Well I followed you, and dragged you to the shore."

"You dove... in after me?" Aragorn looked up at his friend.

Legolas's eyes had a mischievous gleam, "Yes, you see, I had drawn the shortest straw."

Aragorn snorted, "That's very comforting. I feel lucky to have you with me, so I can count on your humor to see us through."

Again Legolas smiled, "Who said I was joking?"

"You darned elf. Just set the ribs."

Legolas's face grew serious again. Examining the side, he prodded an area with his fingertip. Aragorn hissed in response as a bolt of pain shot through him. The elf flicked his eyes upwards at this, and then back down to his work. Very carefully he separated out which ribs would have to be set and which seemed all right. Another healer would have to check his work later.

He had fortunately managed to keep his daggers, and so now drew one out. He poured some water over it in an attempt to clean the metal. He looked at his friend.
"I have to cut Aragorn, and I am sure it will be painful."

Aragorn nodded, his breath tight, "I know."

"All right. Let me know when I've got them correctly in place, if you can." Legolas set one hand alongside the knife. Aragorn's skin was cold against his palm. Taking his blade, he pressed down, opening up a small rift. Blood oozed out, and Aragorn stiffened underneath him.

Carefully he slid his fingers inside and felt the rib. Grasping, he pulled it quickly into place, stopping when Aragorn squeezed his lower arm. Moving on, he pulled the next one into place, again stopping at the squeeze. The blood was warm; some had splattered against his lower arm. Aragorn moaned, his body twitching underneath the elf's hand.

Legolas grasped at the last rib and pulled. All three were set and he pulled his fingers out. He had neither thread nor needle to stitch the cut with, but he took his cloak and ripped it into bandages, which he wrapped tightly around the cut. The ribs were held in place and little blood spilt out after that.

Aragorn sighed and Legolas gave him more water. He had searched through their remaining possessions before, and Aragorn had still had his waterskin. This he had filled from a puddle formed by the rain.

"You should rest Aragorn."

The ranger nodded, his eyes already slipping shut. Legolas wiped his hands off as best he could, the blood feeling sticky between his fingers. He grimaced at the sense of it.

Aragorn now slept. Legolas glanced down at him, and on impulse, checked the pulse again. It beat out steadily. Confident that for now Aragorn was going to be fine, Legolas turned and pulled himself up into the branches of the tree.

Rain dripped down from the leaves above him and the branches swayed. Legolas climbed steadily, until he had reached the top and could look out across the forest. He had no idea where they were. The river had towed them some ways down, and he hadn't paid attention to where he had dragged himself and Aragorn. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he gazed about, hoping to recognize something to tell him where he was. There was nothing.

With a sigh he settled back against the branches, letting himself doze while the tree whispered to him.

Gimli shouted with rage. The boy fell to the deck, his blood mixing in with the water, making it seem like wine. He charged the corsair, knocking him back, the axe in his hands quite forgotten. The man struggled, kicking at him hard. Swinging his fists, a blow connected with Gimli's face, causing him to fall to one knee.

The dwarf grabbed the man, and pulled him down, water splashing everywhere. The corsair rolled with it, using the force to throw Gimli up against the wall. Sucking in a breath, Gimli stood forward and bowled into the man, putting all of his weight into the effort. With a grunt the corsair tried to get back up, only managing to gasp a second of air until Gimli pushed him under facedown.

The man struggled, and soon those struggles became desperate, his legs and arms flailing about in a panic. The water around them thrashed and frothed. Bubbles came up by the head, and then the body jerked once, twice, and was still. Gimli kept pressing, until he was sure the filth was dead, delivering to him a fate that which Aragorn, unbeknownst to him, had just barely managed to escape.

He stood. The man remained still, his face turning pale and blue underwater. Gimli didn't care though; his attention had turned to the boy.

The elf was lying half-up against the wall. He was bleeding from where the knife had slashed him, the blood flowing down him to mingle with the water. The knife had bit into the flesh of where the side of the throat meets the shoulder. If the boy had any luck at all the wound would not be fatal. Gimli ripped a piece of the boy's already ragged tunic and placed it across the gash. The child's eyes were clouded; he seemed not to notice this at all. But he was still breathing.

Keeping the pressure as best he could, Gimli carried him down the hall, searching in cabins for the other elves. The water was steadily rising, about even with his mid-shins now. The ship was sinking fast.

As he rounded a corner he came upon them. About twenty elves, mostly women and children, were huddled together in the hall. Apparently they had decided that between staying in the hull of a sinking ship, or going up on deck into battle, they'd take the battle. A woman cried out and hurried forward, taking the boy from Gimli. He showed her the gash and she nodded at him to show she understood that pressure was needed on the wound. She moved back, pressing down with her hand firmly.

Gimli called out across the noise of the water, "Do you speak the common tongue?"

She just stared at him, her eyes wide and confused. Gimli gestured to all the elves, "Do any of you? Common tongue? Can you speak it?" He was met with blank looks from all around.

The dwarf sighed, "Well, come on, follow me." He beckoned at them, and took a few steps forward. They followed instantly. He sighed again, Well, at least they understood. He led them up on deck, motioning for them to stay where they were, near the hatch. Hefting his axe he looked around, intending to continue where he had left off.

Corsairs lay dead on the deck, along with a few men and elves. But the truth was that the corsairs had been soundly defeated, no match for them in the end. Not one seemed to have survived. The ship itself was low in the water, covered with hacking marks, mostly reduced to mere splinters. There was nothing worth saving. The battle was over.

Walking between the bodies he saw a tall, dark-haired elf standing with Thranduil, and for a second though it was Tanvir. Reality set in a moment later though and he shook his head, angry with himself for allowing the grief to resurface. He moved over to them. As Gimli approached, he felt a nagging in the back of his mind, telling him he was forgetting something important.

With a shock he remembered Aragorn and Legolas. Looking about he saw that there was still no sign of them. The worry he had pushed away came rushing back as dark thoughts about their fates filled his mind. He hurried up to the king.

Thranduil turned to him, "Master dwarf." Upon seeing the look upon Gimli's face Thranduil felt his insides twist.

"Sir. Have you seen your son? Or Aragorn? Since this battle began I have seen neither."

Before Thranduil could answer, the elf standing next to the king cleared his throat, "Excuse me, Lord Aragorn and Prince Legolas both went overboard, just before the battle commenced."

Thranduil whirled to face him, "Both fell overboard?"

"Yes, when the ships collided. I believe Lord Aragorn was over there," here he pointed to where hours earlier, Aragorn had crouched, "when the railing gave way. He lost his balance, and the Prince dived in after him."

"Thank-you Fen-Galid. If you could stay to help move the survivors off ship, I am going to take a party downriver to find them."

"Yes, my Lord." Fen-Galid bowed and moved off.

Gimli fell into stride with Thranduil. The elf king swung ashore with one of the ropes, and Gimli followed suit, barely making it. Thranduil reached out and grabbed him.

"Thank-you."

Thranduil nodded, "You are going to come search with us I presume?"

"I'd like to see you stop me," was Gimli's growled response before he remembered to whom he was talking to.

But Thranduil only laughed, much to his surprise as to Gimli's. The king gathered about him a few elves, and after whistling for their horses, they went off, Gimli sitting in front of Thranduil's stallion.

Legolas moved back and forth from checking Aragorn on the forest floor, to keeping lookout and dozing in the branches. The ranger had still not awakened, but Legolas wasn't too worried as long as the pulse continued steadily. Part of the elf wished that he could move off to find help, but he was smart enough to know that spiders were not the only danger that lurked within the boarders of Mirkwood.

He had been dosing in the branches again when rustles from below stirred his attention. Moving quickly downwards from branch to branch, he leapt to the forest floor, landing beside his friend. Aragorn was coming around again at last.

The elf crouched next to him, "How do you feel my friend?"

Aragorn grinned, "Much better I think, now that I can breath. How long..."

"Have we been here?" Legolas finished his question.

Aragorn nodded, and sat up against the tree trunk.

The elf thought over the question for a moment, "With certainty I can say about six hours. But perhaps longer. It's already late afternoon."

Aragorn moved to stand up, "So when do we leave?"

Legolas gently pushed him back down. "We don't. Aragorn, you were thrown overboard, drowned, nearly died, hauled into a forest, and had your ribs just set. You, my friend, are staying here. And since I cannot leave you alone, I am staying here as well."

"Legolas don't be foolish. We can't stay here, we're exposed, we reek of blood I'm sure, and--"

"And we won't get three steps until you collapse again. Stop being stubborn Aragorn. You know that you cannot walk anywhere on your ribs. We shall wait here until someone notices our absences and comes out to find us."

"Legolas that could take days," Aragorn protested weakly, in his heart he knew the elf was right. Even the small movement had made his breath come short.

"Then we shall wait days. Or until your ribs have healed enough. You should learn to stop pushing yourself so hard Aragorn."

The man smirked, "Funny that advice should come from you."

Legolas grinned, "We're still waiting."

"All right! All right! Blast, we're waiting. Have you any idea where we are?"

At this Legolas's demeanor slumped slightly, "I'm afraid not actually. The river washed us downstream pretty far. I'm not quite sure of our location."

Aragorn sighed, and then suddenly, shivered. Legolas looked sharply at him, "Are you cold Aragorn?"

"No," Aragorn looked at his friend, "Well yes, but not really. It's only because of the wind."

"How cold was the water? I could not feel it."

The water...swirling around him in torrents...slamming into the boat... darkness... choking on it in his throat, feeling it enter his lungs...drowning, he had been drowning.

"Aragorn?"

"Like ice," Aragorn shivered again, "It was colder than ice."

The searchers had split up. Darkness was falling and Gimli had no desire to leave his friends out in it. It had been his suggestion to split the group in order to cover more ground.
The dwarf cast his eyes everywhere, hoping to see some sign of the two. He and Thranduil had opted to ride alongside the river shore, reasoning that at some point the two would have had to cross it, leaving their tracks.

So far though, no luck. The dwarf was growing worried; he prayed to the valar that they hadn't drowned. By the paleness of Thranduil's face, that idea had entered the King's mind some time ago.

Legolas had moved back up high. With his elf eyes he could still see just as easily as if it were day, and he remained scanning the forest around them.

Aragorn lay against the trunk, with what remained of Legolas's cloak wrapped about him. Legolas had gone again and refilled the waterskin, and he and Aragorn called to each other, keeping a small conversation.

Legolas cast his gaze outwards again. The forest in his immediate vision seemed as it had always been, green and lush. Branches hanging down to block the sunlight during the day, and to darken the nights. But out on the far reaches he could see the beginning of the destruction. The forest line thinned and seemed to nearly end. So much of the woodland had burned, Mirkwood had been ravaged; the chaos inside of it wrecking devastation on the elven homes. So much of it was lost.

Legolas didn't want to look out anymore. He put thoughts of his home from his mind, and jumped back down to see his friend. Darkness had by now definitely fallen, and Legolas preferred to be on the ground in order to present a defense to anything that might come their way.

Aragorn was lying still, but Legolas could tell he was awake.

The elf smiled, even if Aragorn could not see it, the ranger could hear it in Legolas's voice, "Afraid of the dark hmm?"

Aragorn snorted with laughter, then wished he hadn't as it moved his side, "As I see it, you are the one who came down to me. Not so brave by yourself?"

"Me? An elf fears nothing. Did not Master Elrond teach you that?"

"He seemed to have missed that lesson." They trailed off in silence, Legolas leaning against the trunk, keeping his eyes open, if not his mind completely alert.

At some point both had fallen into light sleeps when a sound to their left jerked Legolas awake. Standing, he had his daggers out before he had even completely risen. Aragorn picked up a heavy stone lying nearby, preparing to backup his friend.

Moonlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating patches of ground. All seemed quiet. Still Legolas held his position. His daggers gleamed white, his hands gripped them steadily. He took a few cautious steps forward, listening carefully.

Now Aragorn could also hear it. Someone was riding a horse, approaching from their left. By the sound of it they were headed right for them.

A few seconds later the source revealed itself. Legolas broke into a grin, and gave a glad shout, "Gimli! Adar! Trust it be you who have found us!"

Thranduil's face showed much relief, "We found an area downstream that seemed as if an elf and a man had dragged themselves ashore. We followed a blood trail here, are both of you all right?" The king glanced at Legolas's tunic, still covered in blood.

Aragorn spoke, "We are both alive my Lord. I'm afraid that Legolas had to reset my ribs, your bandages came lose in the water."

"In that case," Gimli growled, sliding off the horse, "Do you know just what trouble you've caused? We've been out, ALL NIGHT, searching for you two, on that back of that horse! Trying to follow a blood trail in the dark!"

Legolas backed up against the tree, his hands out. The elf was laughing, "Poor Gimli, have we cut into your beauty sleep?"

Aragorn gave a snort of laughter, and then a wince of pain, which both Legolas and Gimli caught sight of. They exchanged a significant look with each other.

Thranduil dismounted smoothly, "It seems that King Elessar is in no shape to move. We shall stay here tonight, and tomorrow I will ride back to bring out supplies, and to inform others of your safety."

"What, we cannot ride back tonight?" Aragorn did not want to be stuck here any longer than he had to be.

Legolas answered him with a statement, "Stop being so stubborn. You cannot walk--"

"Let alone ride. We shall stay here as long as it takes for you to heal." Gimli finished the elf's sentence.

"I'm not--"

Legolas grinned, "Either stay of your own free will, or I will have Gimli here sit on your legs to keep you down."

Aragorn sighed, resigning himself, for now at least, to his friends' decisions. He leaned back against the tree, "Well, how fared the battle?"

For the rest of the evening the four discussed the events, letting the darkness eventually fade into the gray light of dawn.

With the coming day, Mirkwood saw one last fire. The elves had lit up the corsair ships, letting them burn on the water. The bodies of the enemy burned with them. When all had sunk to the bottom, Thranduil's people turned round, reentering the trees. With determined hearts they set about to rebuild their homes, to bring back that which the fire had destroyed. Under the rising sun the elves gratefully began their new labor. The chaos had come to a close, and a true sense of peace settled in at last.