Hello again. Special thanks and much love to my beta reader Ermanil Luinedhel Elfobbit. Not much to say, so I guess I'll just get on with the story. For disclaimer, see chapter one.

Chapter Two

Elven senses picked up a distinct scent on the nighttime breeze. Legolas lowered his eyes from the sky to the trees surrounding his makeshift camp. What he smelled was more of a stench than anything else. It was foul but familiar.

He mentally chastised himself for not having been more cautious. The warning his guards had given him before he left echoed throughout his mind. If there were orcs around, he should have taken refuge in the trees.

Legolas stood up quickly and kicked out the fire. Hastily he gathered up his bedroll and called his horse to him. He knew he wouldn't get far in this dark, but he had to get some headway above the orcs. He checked his weapons before leaping onto his mount and whispering words of warning and the importance of speed in her ears.

The orcs must have seen the light of his fire and he could already hear them approaching.

He raced out into a stretch of open plain and hoped that there weren't any hazardous pitfalls in the dark. For a moment the elf was out of earshot of his adversaries, but it wasn't long before the orcs realized that he had taken flight. Shouts rang through the night.

Along with the shouts were the howls of beasts. Apparently wargs were present with the hostile party.

Legolas mentally cursed. If his pursuers had mounts at their disposal, then his chance of escape was ever decreasing.

"Noro lim," he urged. He glanced back to see if his enemies were already in the field. There were definitely figures that he could discern in the dark. Roughly five wargs, three with riders, and about another five runners. Legolas knew he was outnumbered. Alone he might have been able to handle the orcs, but the wargs most certainly made matters worse. His best chance at survival was to retreat. Looking forward he again pressed his horse to continue with speed.

The noises of chase were becoming louder in his ears. He could hear nearly every footfall of the gaining wargs. He could hear the shouts and curses coming from the riders. The elf risked another look backwards. His closest follower was an orc atop a big husky warg. The beast was snarling, excited at having something to chase. The orc was swinging a sling above his head.

Legolas veered off to the side, hoping that this would throw off his enemy's aim. He then brought his horse to the other side of his general path, continuing with a zig zagging motion.

His tactic was thus far working. He saw several fist-sized stones striking the ground where he had been but a moment earlier. But his path was taking from his distance. He could hear more wargs approaching. He ceased his crooked trail and continued to run as straight a course as he was able. This gained him some distance, but not enough. He was still in range of the orc's sling.

Another stone hit the ground near him. He unslung his bow and twisted around as far as he could without inadvertently dismounting himself. He thought that if he aimed for the warg first, that would buy him more time. Shooting the rider first would only lighten the beast's load, he figured.

He designed his arrow to fire straight through the wolf-hybrid's chest cavity, but the jostling of his horse made aiming a bit more difficult. He lost sight of his exact target several times before managing to let fly his arrow towards its intended destination.

The arrow burst through the beast's chest, blood spurting outward. Legolas barely took in his handiwork, trying to buy himself every possible second to use to his advantage. The warg stumbled in its frenzied run before its legs buckled and collapsed underneath it. But a split second before it went down, the orc rider hurled another stone towards his wished-for victim. He fell with his warg as soon as the stone left the sling.

Legolas felt something very solid connect with the back of his skull. The force of the blow threw him forward, bending him over the horse's neck. He blacked out before he knew if he would hit the ground or not.

Keith threw his head back to compensate for its forceful shove forward. But where he expected empty air to catch him, he met the resistance of the back of his chair. The momentum of his movement carried the chair with him. He felt the legs of the chair leave the ground. He felt too stunned to do anything about it, however. He didn't make a grab for his desk in front of him, barely flailed his limbs in an attempt to balance himself.

He felt his head meet the floor accompanied by a loud thud. Light flashed behind his eyes and then his vision cleared to reveal the fluorescent light covered ceiling above him.

His senses returned to him fairly quickly. The initial reaction of the rest of the students was a few scattered muffled giggles. Then he heard somebody question, "Are you okay?"

Mr. Brink was mirroring the inquiry. "Are you okay? What's happening back there?"

Keith sat up, putting a hand to the back of his head. He picked his chair up with his free hand and set it upright once more. He sat in the chair and laid his head on the desk, putting his other hand behind his skull to join his other one. He thought that maybe if he applied enough pressure, he could push the throbbing away.

And then, "Oh my god, he's bleeding!"

Footsteps approached him, and Keith lifted his head enough to recognize Mr. Brink coming to him. He let his face fall back towards his desk.

After a few steadying breaths, Keith sat up again. He brought a hand in front of him and was filled with mild surprise.

His whole hand was red with blood. He hadn't realized that he had hit the ground so hard. Confusion flooded his features. No, he thought. He knew that he had not, in fact, fallen that hard. An accident like this would only yield a fair-sized bruise and a bump, but it was not enough to break skin like this.

Mr. Brink took in the sight of Keith's bloodied hand. "Somebody call an ambulance," he said. He held up a couple of fingers in front of his student's face. "How many fingers, kid?"

Keith tried to deny his blurring vision. Even if he hadn't experienced a lot of pain, the injury was still taking its toll on him. He briefly wondered how much blood one had to lose to cause dizziness like this. He left Mr. Brink's question unanswered and instead slid out of the chair to take a seat on the floor.

The closer to the ground I am, the less far I have to fall, he kept telling himself. But the classroom kept spinning. He felt that if it kept doing this, he would be flung out a window by the momentum caused. He laid his head down on the floor, trying to get as close to it as possible.

He tried to focus on his breathing. In and out... In and out... Focused on the floor. Cool and hard. Voices around him became vague and he couldn't understand what they were saying. He barely sensed Mr. Brink kneeling by him, trying to wrap a sweatshirt around his head to staunch the bleeding.

"Hold that there," Mr. Brink instructed. Keith numbly covered the sweatshirt with his bloody hands, holding it against the bleeding gash in his head.

Don't pass out, don't pass out, he drilled himself. People were still talking around him but he continued to not comprehend them. He closed his eyes to the whirling room and willed it to stop spinning.

Finally the blood loss was too much for his body to continue functioning. The clamor of noises began to fade away. Keith felt like he was falling. Oblivion welcomed him as he fell into unconsciousness.

TBC

Sorry it's so short. But either way... Write a review. You know you want to. (Grin)