The last one was short, so I gave you guys two as per usual. This is a little different. While Legolas has been stealing the spot light for quite some time now, this one is from Aragorn's point of view:

Aragorn

I had known going in that we would lose people. I had known it going into every battle I had participated in. But I had never, in any of them, grown accustomed to the sight of thousands of lifeless bodies surrounding me. Orcs mingled with Elves and on top of that, Men. Men who had followed me here, had fought for the region I ruled.

I stepped over an Orc, sighing and observing the other warriors that had survived milling around. Only a little over what I estimated to be one hundred remained. I spotted both Faramir and Éomer ahead of me with similar expressions of melancholy on their faces as they surveyed the damage to our forces.

At least it was finally over. Completely that is.

I heard someone approach me from behind-rather reluctantly by the sound of their footfalls. A subordinate most likely.

I gave a tired sigh, acknowledging his presence without facing him. "See to the wounded," I ordered. I felt rather than saw him nod before he turned and walked off in the opposite direction.

"Aragorn!"

It took me a while to recognize the desperate voice. Canaliel-Legolas' second-in-command. I heard him call out my name again and it was only then that I saw him in my peripheral vision, gesturing frantically.

"Ta ná Legolas!" (It's Legolas!) he yelled.

Legolas. Something had happened to Legolas.

For a moment, it would not register. Of everyone here, he was definitely one of the most skilled, even among the Elves. Lesser soldiers had come out relatively unscathed. And yet Canaliel kneeled, some twenty yards to my right, beside what I could only assume was my fallen friend.

I forced my legs to move; a brisk walk at first that progressed to a run-or at least as quick as I could move through the debris of the battlefield.

"He's alive," Canaliel informed me upon my arrival, glancing from me to Legolas, who was propped up against him.

I dropped to my knees as well, sending a silent prayer to the Valar for the first time in a long time-probably since Arwen had crossed. Then I leaned over to inspect the wound.

At that point, I almost wished Legolas mortal; maybe then he would not do such a good job of masking his pain. However, knowing how adept he was at concealing such things, it terrified me that he still appeared to be in a great deal. His eyes were squeezed shut-a rarity among his people, unless they were severely injured.

An Orc arrow protruded from his lower abdomen, and though there was not very much blood, it was a small comfort. Any medic would immediately tell me to not remove the arrow, I knew, or risk him bleeding to death before we could reach a healer with proper resources.

But I knew Saruman's old armies like no one present-save Legolas. They liked to tip their arrow heads with poison. And if this one had been laced, the gash it had created would be the least of our problems.

"He'll need Elvish medicine," I told Canaliel, my brow furrowing. "Soon."

He nodded. "We brought enough from Ithilien." He gestured to a nearby Elf.

I shook my head. "We'll have to have more sufficient facilities," I argued. "And healers." I glanced up at the approaching medic that Canaliel had flagged down. "We cannot care for him here."

"My Lord," I heard Faramir call out, jogging over to the four of us.

I rose abruptly to my feet and turned to him. "I want everyone who is incapable of travel on horses," I commanded. "How quickly could an envoy reach Minas Tirith from here, riding at full speed?" Faramir opened his mouth to respond.

"That won't matter," Canaliel protested from behind me, cutting him off. "We could reach Gondor ourselves in the time it will take them to travel there and return with aid."

"How long?" I demanded of Faramir again, ignoring him.

Faramir hesitated, letting his eyes wander to the cynical Elf, and then back to me. "Over night, Sir," he estimated. "At minimum."

I looked back at Legolas.

"He'll have as little as three days, regardless of any poison," Canaliel assessed. "And traveling will increase the speed with which it has effect. Even among Elf-kind." he insisted.

I faced Faramir again. "Find a messenger Elf," I instructed him. "Send them back to the White City and tell them to make haste. They are to retrieve the palace's Elvish healer." I hesitated. "And my daughter." Faramir's expression grew bewildered at this. "Is that understood?"

He gave a curt nod and rushed off in the direction he had come from. "Everyone else!" I called out, hoping to gain the attentions of the surviving mortal generals nearby that would lead the others. "Begin the journey back to the city! Inform them that it was a victory!" A few cheers rose up, but they soon dwindled as everyone began following orders.

"We'll stay here until the envoy returns," I told Canaliel, kneeling again. I looked up at the few concerned Elves that had gathered around their Prince. "Set up camp," I said forcefully.

While none seemed too pleased about taking orders from a "lesser being", none complained.

* * * * *

Evil cliffie, I know, but more soon.