CHAPTER II – THE ASSASSIN, THE VICTIM
"So, you see, Boromir, us Tooks are far better at brewing ale than the Brandybucks," said Pippin with triumph, coming to the end of his tale.
"I beg to differ, my dear Pippin. For, you see, I don't remember having any ale from Tookborough for many, many years. If it is as amazing as you claim it to be, then it would popular in all the Farthings, not just your little holes in the south," Merry argued, nudging his cousin's shoulder harshly.
Boromir couldn't help but laugh at how competitive the hobbits were over things such as food and drink. "I should like to try both sometime. They sound equally good."
"You say 'equally' now, but wait until you try the Tookborough ale."
"That way he'll know that the stuff by the Brandybucks' is better."
Suddenly the line halted. Aragorn and Gandalf glanced in all directions.
"What is it, Aragorn?" Boromir asked, walking up behind him.
"Don't you hear that?" Aragorn asked.
Boromir paused and listened. He couldn't hear anything, but perhaps that is what the Ranger was trying to point out. "I don't hear anything."
"Nor do I," agreed Gimli. "How about you, Master Elf?" Gimli waited, but Legolas didn't reply. "Master Elf?"
Aragorn looked over the Company. Legolas had gone! He must've heard what had halted them and gone after it. Normally Aragorn would've been calm because he knew Legolas could take care of himself, but this time he didn't even know what the Elf was up against so it was hardly possible to remain optimistic. Then, out of the small forest next to them, came Legolas. He had his knives drawn and was trying to catch his breath; blood staining his left shoulder where he had been bitten. Shortly following him was possibly the largest Warg any of them had ever laid their eyes upon. It was easily the size of three horses and looked angry.
"Legolas!" Frodo cried in alarm. He moved to help the Elf even though he was terrified.
"No, Mr. Frodo!" Sam dove after him, managing to just wrap his arms around his waist. They both fell to the ground.
"But... what about Legolas? Aragorn?"
Aragorn stood beside them. He was torn. If he went and helped Legolas he would leave the Fellowship vulnerable to the Warg's ferocity, but staying with the Fellowship would mean leaving his companion to fight on his own. Neither way seemed even remotely appealing.
"He can take care of himself, Frodo," said Aragorn, his fingers twitching above the hilt of his sword.
"You're not suggesting we leave him are you!" Frodo asked, blue eyes widening to the size of saucers.
"No, of course not. But we can't put the rest of the Fellowship in danger."
All stared in horror, wide-eyed. Frodo and Sam remained on the ground next to Aragorn. Gandalf was the only one who seemed relatively calm. The Warg sprang at Legolas, teeth barred. With a sharp flex of his legs, Legolas leapt onto the creature's back. He drove both of the knives deep into its shoulders, causing it to scream out in agony. Then Legolas leapt back off, preparing his bow and notching an arrow. While the beast thrashed in pain, Legolas sprinted to where its head was and shot it in the throat. The Warg cried out, but was not dead yet. Two more arrows were fired, one into its chest the other into its skull and the animal collapsed, dead. Legolas retrieved his arrows and shouldered his bow.
"Valar..." Frodo said quietly to himself in disbelief. He knew the Elf's efforts had been in the Fellowship's favour, but he couldn't help the dread rising in his chest as he saw Legolas' quickness to kill.
"Are you all right, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, approaching the Elf.
Legolas nodded feebly. His hand was over the wound on his shoulder, dyed red with the blood. His breathing was laboured and his face was pale with the exception of the tiny beads of sweat that glimmered on his white complexion. The cut was deep and bleeding, but not at a life-threatening rate. He swayed in his weariness and nearly fainted, had Aragorn not caught him mere inches before he hit the ground.
"We cannot stop before the day has begun," said Gandalf gravely. "Aragorn, dress the wound for now, but we will have to carry him until tonight."
Aragorn nodded in understanding, but Frodo was not pleased with this decision.
"But, Gandalf-" he began in protest. He had never seen a wound such as the one that Legolas bore. Nor had he ever seen so much blood. The most disturbing thing was that Legolas did not appear very alarmed by the injury; he almost looked accustomed to it.
"Frodo, you must understand," said the wizard wisely.
The young hobbit still did not like the situation, but he knew Gandalf would not endanger Legolas' life and that lifted his heart a little. He glanced over at Aragorn who was digging through his pack trying to find a bandage to dress the wound. Aragorn quickly found what he was searching for and, after removing the Elf's tunic, wound the bandage around his bloody shoulder
"Gandalf, I really think that we should stop here," Aragorn suggested. "This wound is worse than it's letting on."
"I- I'll be fine, Aragorn. Gandalf," he took a deep breath, "Gandalf's right. You shouldn't waste a day on my account. I'll be fine until nightfall."
Aragorn nodded reluctantly and lifted Legolas into his arms.
"Nightfall is only about three hours away anyway," Boromir said, trying to make the Company more reassured. They agreed and began their trek again.
"We shall stop here," said Gandalf. Ever since the Warg, the wizard had forced them to walk quicker so they would cover a greater distance. Everyone collapsed on the ground, heaving the packs off their backs. "Will you please start dinner, Samwise."
"Of course, Mr. Gandalf, sir," obeyed the hobbit, scrambling to his tired feet and gathering up some stray twigs to start a fire.
Aragorn set Legolas lightly on the ground. The Elf had either fallen asleep or passed out about an hour earlier. Frodo walked over and stood behind the Ranger, who was laying a blanket over the wounded archer.
"Aragorn, will he be all right?"
Aragorn sighed. He didn't know how to answer as he did not know himself. "He'll be fine, Frodo." A part of Aragorn scorned him for lying to the hobbit, but he dismissed it. "Will you tell Gandalf-?"
"I'm already here," said the wizard, setting his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Go and help Samwise with the fire, Frodo."
"Yes, Gandalf," he said quietly. He trudged over to where Sam already had a fire going and sat down. He wondered why Gandalf would rather have Legolas remain in the shadows. Frodo had always been taught that injured people should be kept warm, but he supposed Gandalf had a good reason for it and helped Sam make stew- yet again.
The Company ate their meal in silence without Aragorn, Gandalf and Legolas. Afterwards they all pulled out their pipes, taking slow, thoughtful drags from them.
"Boromir, we need your aid," said Gandalf from where he was bent over Legolas.
"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered to the wizard, "I think that we should try to do this without anyone else. Legolas doesn't want the others to know."
"Aragorn, having Boromir help may save Legolas more than you think."
"Yes, Gandalf?" asked Denethor's son as he knelt next to Aragorn.
"We don't want to move Legolas' back too much while we moved him closer to the fire. Will you support the small of his back, please?"
"Of course-"
Legolas stirred slightly, "Mithrandir, I'll be fine, please-" His voice came out strained with desperation.
"Legolas, I don't want to take any chances."
"Mithrandir," Legolas was almost pleading.
Gandalf ignored him. "Boromir, we just ask you not to place your hands on any of the scars."
Boromir's expression was puzzled, but not after Gandalf commanded Legolas to turn onto his side. Boromir gasped. All across the Elf's back and shoulders were large, deep scars. They were visible through a dark, grotesque brand that spanned Legolas' entire back. He was extremely careful where he placed his hands, making sure not to touch anything that might cause the Elf more pain. On Gandalf's command, they all lifted and carried Legolas to the fireside. Aragorn quickly draped the blanket back over his friend's shoulders. Boromir stood for a long moment, staring at the Elf. This made Frodo wonder.
"Sam, how much stew is left?" Aragorn asked, not taking his eyes off Legolas.
"We saved enough for the three of you," replied Sam. Without even being told, he filled three bowls with the stew he and Frodo had prepared. Handing one to each, he glanced at Legolas.
"Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome, Mr. Strider."
Aragorn handed the bowl to Legolas, who simply turned away as though the sight of it revolted him. His shoulders jerked as though he was going to throw up. Aragorn took Legolas' elbow- gently- and offered the bowl to him again. The Elf stared at it for a moment then looked away.
"Just one bowl, Legolas. That's all I ask." He said it with such sincerity and concern that Legolas cautiously took the bowl and sipped quietly at it.
For about an hour the rest of the Company talked and at the end of that hour Legolas had finally finished his meal. Aragorn smiled and returned the bowl to Sam. He was proud of Legolas for actually eating properly. He had tried in the past and always ended up with a bruise. Unfortunately it took only five minutes for Legolas to get sick. He wasn't used to eating so much at once and, being an Elf, he didn't have to. He stood so quickly his head spun, but he still managed to get to the tree line before being sick. The blanket had fallen from his shoulders, but not before he had emerged into the shadows. Each member of the Company cringed at the sounds that came from the trees. Sam looked horrified.
"It was nothing you did, Sam," said Aragorn before running to Legolas' aid.
Nonetheless Sam looked like he too was about to vomit. The colour drained from his face and he placed his hand over his mouth. It wasn't so much that he felt a little bit responsible- it was his stew after all- it was the feeling that formed deep in his stomach as he heard the agony of the Elf. Never had he heard such a sound. It was disgusting and made him sick to his stomach, but it caused him to pity the Elf. His figure reflected it and what had just happened confirmed to the hobbit that Legolas hadn't eaten properly in a long time. It made him wonder what may have happened, but whatever his imagination came up with couldn't compare with the horror Legolas had really experienced.