Disclaimer: Please see chapter one.

Chapter two

Morning broke over the forest, the sun shining weakly through the early morning mist, trying to dry any lasting wetness left over by the storm. The air was fresh and nature seemed to have come alive once more. Bird's flitted through the trees, filling the air with their cheerful songs; here and there a squirrel gathered their nuts, making ready for winter. Yesterday's storm seemed all but forgotten as a new day began. The storm had been forced into the memories of the witnesses it had become a part of the long history of the forest.

A scouting party left Rivendell that morning with the sole intention of finding any poor creature that may have been caught in the storm. A storm of the previous days magnitude was rare and being Elves and in tune with nature, it was time to help the forest's inhabitants. The forest had looked after the Elves for years and it was time for the Elves of Imadris to return the favour.

All seemed quiet and peaceful as old trees were checked and any dead wood removed. They found no injured animals; all seemed to have weathered the storm well and by late morning the decision was made to return to Rivendell, knowing full well that Lord Elrond would have plenty of other jobs for them to attend to. Whilst no Elves were looking forward to the extra tasks from Lord Elrond they were extremely pleased that no part of the precious balance of nature around Rivendell had been harmed.

They slowly made their way back, taking a more direct southern route. The Elves themselves enjoyed the late morning sun, now that the mist had burned of the day was fresh and bright. It was as they were coming to the edge of the forest that they stumbled over the body of a horse.

The six Elves drew to a halt, hands going automatically to either bow or sword. They stood tense for a short while, senses on the alert for any sounds that should not be there, when none was forth coming the leader gave silent signals with either a nod of his head or flick of a wrist, positioning his men in case of a trap. The Elves were well trained in the art of war. They had been fighting together for hundreds of years so they cold close to tell what the others were thinking from a simple movement.

They moved silently, closer to the fallen horse only to halt once more when the horse turned its head towards them, giving a distressed whinny. Speaking softly the leader tried to calm the horse, moving to stroke the proud head before him. The head of the stallion swept from side to side. The mane swishing in the movement. The horse eyed the Elves warily. Unknowing whether they were here to help or hinder.

His hand came away covered in blood. Blood seemed to shine with silver in the light. The blood did not belong to the horse. The only creature that had this coloured blood was . . . But surely that was impossible.

It was then that he saw the crumpled lump that lay beside the horse. Cautiously he made his way around the horse. Lowering himself to one knee, he looked up to a see arrows pointing at the lump, this could still be a trap. Pleased his men were still on the alert he nodded his approval.

The leader, Andechoriel, lowered the hood of his own cloak, revealing long dark brown hair, drawn back into worrier braids to reveal elegantly pointed ears. He had deep brown eyes; he also had the auror of a leader, strong and confident.

Gently he pushed aside the cloth covering the creature. It revealed a human. Its hair was long and a muddy brown. He was laying face down, head turned to the left facing the horse. Andechoriel turned the human towards him. He was deeply unconscious. The right side of his face was covered in mud masking identification. The left side was covered in old, dry blood; hair was plastered to that side of the face by the once sticky substance. The blood was crusty and showed that the man had been lying in the same spot for numerous hours.

Brushing what he cold of the hair out of the way, he found it to be sodden. Placing his fingers on the pulse point, he found it was weak and erratic, but just about there. Brushing more hair aside he tried to find the head wound. They needed to know just how bad it was. His hand froze for one second before taking up more hair once more. He pushed it to one side to reveal an elegantly pointed ear. It was a mirrored of his own. It was a fellow Elf.

"Lower your weapons." Andechoriel moved his hands faster now, trying to find wounds and broken bones. They needed to move him, to get him back to Rivendell. As he was doing this he gave his instructions. "Burztasareiel take Faren and find some wood. We need to make a litter." He was taking the time to apply a pressure dressing to the nasty deep wound on the Elf's right thigh.

The two Elves nodded before gracefully disappearing into the forest once more. Once the litter was ready they gently lifted the injured Elf onto the make shift transport. Andechoriel was happy, it was sturdy enough, two wooden poles with cloaks stretched between them, it would make it back to Rivendell. Once the Elf was settled he was covered with more cloaks to keep him warm on the journey. Once happy they were ready to leave.

Turning once more to his men he signalled one to join him." Faren, you are the fastest runner. Go ahead; warn Lord Elrond we have a seriously injured Elf. He will need to be ready. Tell him the Elf has a severe head injury and has lost a lot of blood." Deft hands were applying a dressing to said wound. "He has other injuries, the leg wound being the worst."

The Elf nodded, "Yes, Sir." He then made his way out of the forest towards Rivendell.

Andechoriel took a moment to gently tell the horse what they would be doing with its master, asking him to follow behind them. He then took the right hand pole at the head of the stretcher. Nodding at his men they lifted the stretcher and began the walk home. He wanted to be near the Elf's head, just in case he regained consciousness. He smiled as he noticed the horse walking by his master's side, unwilling to let him out of its sight.

The journey back to Rivendell was swift, but gentle. They had to stop twice so they could check their patient, but his condition remained unchanged.

Once they reached Rivendell, they made their way towards the Halls of Healing. They were met on the steps by Lord Elrond, Faren by his side. Keen brown eyes took in the state of the injured Elf before looking up once more. "Bring him in. Do you have any idea who he is?"

"No, Lord Elrond. He hasn't woken. There may be some form of identification in his pack. If Faren sees to the horse, he could bring the pack to you." At Elrond's distracted nod, Faren led the horse to the stable.

Leading the way Elrond rook them to the large hall that served as the main healing room. It was bright and airy. There were five pallets on each side of the room, which was warm with the afternoon sunshine. The smell of Athelas seemed to hang in the atmosphere. A fire burned to one side with a kettle that was full of boiling water. The Elf was transferred to the waiting pallet that Elrond indicated.

The four Elves stepped away from the bed leaving Elrond room to work, but at Andechoriel's instructions the other three reluctantly left the room. They all wanted to know who this was. Elrond was joined by his seneschal Glorfindel.

Between them they began to work on the Elf, swiftly removing the ruined blood and mud splattered clothes, before covering him with warmed sheets. Once this was done, Glorfindel moved to the fire to retrieve the boiling water, pouring some into a bowel he added crushed athelas leaves. Every one seemed to relax as it permeated the air.

Elrond meanwhile sat on the edge of the pallet, reaching with his right hand he placed it over the Elf's heart, the left found the forehead. Eyes closed in concentration he blocked out all thoughts and sounds as he sought the injured Elf's fea.

He broke the link with a sigh. "He is far away. Both his injuries and the weather have served to lower his healing abilities greatly. But there is something….." The frown was back as he reached for the Elf's wrist to check the pulse before moving on to check the pupils. "There is something about this fea. It is almost as if….." Shaking himself he reached for the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the head, gently removing it

Glorfindel had a bowel of clean water and a cloth ready for Elrond to take and he gave him a brief smile as he took it.

As Glorfindel began work on the injured thigh, Elrond began sponging the hair clean around the head wound. It was deep and long. Glorfindel, meanwhile winced when he got a good look at the wounded thigh, this was very deep, so deep he could see the muscle. This would need exploring before suturing. It was a job for Elrond, whilst he could do this, the other Elf was the greater skilled at healing, he was just covering the wound with another clean dressing when a soft exclamation brought his attention back to his friend. At Glorfindel's quizzically raised eyebrow, Elrond began to speak.

"He has a major concussion, his right eyes is dilated. That is not all. His hair is not brown. It's blond, look." He gestured for Glorfindel to look at the hair. Sure enough, the hair around the wound was blond. "His eyes are blue, too." He looked at his old friend, "I thought the fea felt familiar, and I think this may be…" He was stopped mid flow by Faren entering the room, pack in hand.

"My Lord, here is his pack." He stopped at the side of the bed.

"Thank you. Glorfindel, please look and see if there is any identification. If this is who I think it is…." Elrond had reached for a clean cloth and wetting it began to clean the mud and dirt from the face as Glorfindel searched the pack, removing items and looking at them. Near the bottom was a sealed letter, the seal was that of Mirkwood. Below that was an open letter addressed to….

Elrond's exclamation brought his head around as the two spoke instantaneously, just one word. "Legolas!!"

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