"Hey, I think he's waking up."
Pippin groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes. The worried faces of Frodo, Gimli, Merry and Gandalf swam before his eyes. Everyone was scratched, dirty and, in Gimli's case, partially covered in blood and bandages.
"How are you feeling, Pip?" Merry asked gently. "Like shit?"
He nodded. Raising his hand to his face, he felt the bandages bound tightly around his head and winced. "What happened? Is everyone okay?"
Gandalf, Gimli and Frodo looked at each other nervously. Gimli and Frodo bit their lips while Gandalf continued a worried, pitying look.
"What happened?" demanded Pippin as he sat up quickly, making everyone jolt with surprise and Merry exclaim in exasperation, "Pippin! Stay down."
"Is someone hurt?" he demanded persistently again. "Who is it? Who yelled when the tunnel caved in?"
Again, they looked at each other sadly for a moment. Gandalf was the one who finally raised his arm and directed Pippin's gaze down the tunnel, towards the rock-strewn, caved-in entrance.
In the soft light of the wizard's staff were Aragorn, Sam and Legolas. Red blood was spilling everywhere from their direction but Pippin couldn't see clearly who was injured. Without warning, he got up and ran to them. He was shocked when he saw what was before his eyes.
Legolas was sitting on a boulder with his leg propped up on a smaller rock. His right leg had a huge horizontal gash like it was torn open with a blade. He had the look of tremendous pain written across his fair Elvish face. This was the first time Pippin actually saw his Elf-friend in any kind of true physical pain and it made him sad.
"You're really lucky it's only this shallow, Legolas," Aragorn said softly, who was helping his friend bandage up. His expression and tone of voice showed how hard it was for him to see Legolas in so much pain.
"Only?" Legolas echoed, his voice strained from keeping back his yells. "What the fuck do you mean, 'only'? You try having your leg ripped open by your own goddamned arrow!"
Neither Aragorn nor Sam could reply to that and both continued bandaging the Elf's injured leg in silence.
Legolas' ragged breathing echoed loudly in the dark tunnels and just covered the constant dripping sound of his own blood onto the ground. He knew that, as an Elf, he would heal easily and quickly but still had a considerable amount of pain to endure, especially since they were traveling on foot.
"How did you get that?" Pippin asked timidly.
He gasped in pain when a fresh surge of agony shot up his leg. Seeing as he wasn't in any shape to tell stories, Aragorn explained for him. "Before the explosion, Legolas had shot the Hunter with one of his diamond-tipped arrows."
"And, of course, you know that diamond is, like, the strongest substance in the world," interjected Sam. "High melting point, too, remember?"
"Thanks for reminding me how fucking sharp diamonds can be," Legolas said sarcastically through his teeth. It was obvious from his swearing and dark tone of voice that he wasn't a particularly happy Elf.
"Anyway, when I threw the bomb at the Hunter, Legolas threw me into the tunnels. That left him wide open to the explosion. He was closest to the entrance than anyone here when the bomb went off. The arrow he shot, being diamond-tipped and probably coated with the rock, was dislodged and was sent flying back into the tunnel because of the shockwave."
"So it was all a matter of circumstance?" Pippin said slowly.
"Actually," Sam said, "if he hadn't thrown Aragorn deeper in the caves, the arrow would've killed him because it was around the area of his chest at the time." He saw Pippin's bluntly confused face and pointed up to the arrow sticking through the solid rock above them. "That's what we're guessing, at least."
Pippin continued his blank expression towards Sam. As plainly as he could, he said, "Aragorn and Legolas told you that, didn't they?"
"Yeah."
Aragorn finished bandaging Legolas' leg with his bloodstained, dirty hands. In the light of the wizard's staff, he could see the paleness of his friend's face. "Can you get up? Do you need any help?"
"Some help would be nice," Legolas said softly and through gritted teeth. He slowly got up, leaning heavily on his left leg, and held on tightly to Aragorn's shoulder. He struggled to bite back his screams as the two of them slowly made their way down the slanting tunnel. Each small step brought sharp pains pulsating from his leg.
Gandalf retrieved his staff and led the Fellowship further into the tunnels. They had to stop shortly after because they could tell that a few members couldn't go much further without a good, long rest.
They settled down in a niche they found to be relatively clean and uninhabited. There, they changed the blood-soaked bandages and stayed for the night to refresh themselves.
It was long after most of the Fellowship had fallen asleep when Legolas had decided to check his wounds by the soft light of the wizard. As he hobbled towards the staff, he accidentally roused Frodo from his light sleep.
"Legolas?" he mumbled drowsily. He sat up and rubbed the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" he replied dryly. To show no hard feelings, he gave a small smile to Frodo, who returned a weak grin and went to his side.
Frodo watched in silence as Legolas unwrapped the bandages on his leg. He winced as he gingerly took the last layer of bandages directly off the wound. He groaned softly when he shifted positions to shed better light on the gash.
"Oh, ew," Frodo said quietly. The wound was still partially bleeding but it was already well on its way to a recovery. He could see the torn layers of the Elven leg muscle and was watching the blood pump out slowly. Dried blood covered Legolas' leg and pants and caked over his gash, making it look several times worse than it already was.
"It's looking pretty good, don't you think?" Legolas said calmly. He kept his voice soft to not wake the others and rouse suspicion in the tunnels.
Frodo stared at him. "It depends on your perspective, really. I think we're going to be stuck here for a while until you can walk and run without killing yourself or ripping your leg off." He added, "Don't you even suggest that we leave without you, either! You know that we can't do that."
"Actually, you can but I know that you guys won't. Besides, you won't have to stay here for very long." He poked the area around his gash without wincing or feeling too much pain. "This'll heal pretty well in a few days. Elvish blood heals very quickly."
Frodo nodded in understanding and helped Legolas rewrap his leg quietly. As he did so, he began to let his thoughts roam freely.
Legolas bit his lip and smacked his hand over Frodo's head. He hissed, "Don't wrap it so goddamned tight! You're trying NOT to cut off my circulation!"
He apologized and watched his friend wrap his leg on his own. He knew that he should sleep, but knew he couldn't sleep because of the buzzing thoughts that his mind and heart were telling him. He sunk down to ground level, gave his thoughts free rein of himself and put his head on Legolas' good leg.
Legolas himself finished the bandaging himself and looked at Frodo's head resting on his leg. In the dull white light, he could see the hobbit's every eyelash and the way they moved told him that Frodo was trying to resolve something in his heart. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of lembas he always carried around and offered a piece to Frodo.
"Lembas for your thoughts?" he asked with his palm open with the Elven bread near Frodo's face.
"Thanks." He munched slowly on his piece of the dry bread. "I'm not sure if my thoughts are worth such a fine prize."
"Any thought that comforts dark feelings or feeds them are always worth at least a piece of lembas."
He chuckled. "You always have something to say against whatever anyone says, Legolas. Do you ever have nothing to say back?"
"Only when it is pointless to reply or when I can refrain myself from speaking. Alas, the days when I had centuries of self-control at my disposal are long gone. I cannot stop myself sometimes from saying stupid things."
"Undoubtedly the reason why you and Aragorn were always up to some kind of mischief, am I right?"
"No, that is our own nature."
"Ah." He let a small pause of silence come between him and Legolas before continuing his thoughts. "You do not try to say something when you have nothing to say, right?"
Legolas nodded in agreement. "Do you do that?"
"No. Well, not on my own will, anyway. I just wonder, why do we fight when we have little to fight with and almost nothing to fight for?"
The Elf prince said nothing and the Hobbit continued, careful to keep his voice down.
"I've been wondering lately about what we're really fighting for. Everywhere we go, I can only see destruction and the remnants of a greedy past. Death, ruins and lost hope are what meets the eye when we scoured the city for the entry to the Darkness.
"Change is inevitable, right?" He looked up to meet his eyes with Legolas'. He looked deep into those eyes that still had the vivacity of the lost species of Elves in the looming Darkness. "How can we know when change is needed? Our world is filled with filth, greed and corruption of power. How do we know that the Age of Darkness isn't beginning now?
"How the hell do we know that we're fighting for the good side?" he asked despairingly.
At first, Legolas had no true answer because he had asked those questions to the wind before they entered the slums. He knew the overwhelming feeling of lost hope and facing almost certain doom. Doubt of the quality of life had gone through his mind then, too. But he remembered what had happened at that time as well, when Aragorn and Frodo were there.
"We know because we know the joys of companionship," Legolas said plainly. "We know the feeling of brotherhood and friendship. We know the feeling of all levels of love. Especially the level of close friendship," he added as he ruffled the hair of the Hobbit's head on his leg.
"Change is inevitable," he continued, "but Fate sometimes leaves the power of change in the hands of a few. What they do can ultimately govern the future of thousands, maybe millions, of lives and generations."
"So you believe that we have that power?"
Legolas was absent-mindedly petting and playing with Frodo's soft curls while they were talking. Since neither boy said anything to stop it, he continued when he realized it. It was somehow comforting to feel the gentle touch of a friend in such a dark environment. As he thought about his beliefs, he distractedly ran his long, slender fingers through Frodo's waves.
"Yes," he finally answered. "I do. Why else would we be here instead of resting peacefully with the dead world of Middle-Earth? I know that I'm fighting so the past can rest in peace. So what are you fighting for, Frodo?"
Only a deep, rhythmic breathing met his ears. "Frodo?" He gently shook the Hobbit's shoulder and figured that he fell asleep on his leg. Instead of waking Frodo, he tried to sit comfortably without disturbing him.
"Friendship," mumbled Frodo, his eyes still shut, "and goodness. But, I think I'm fighting mostly for us. The Fellowship." With that, he went and sunk into a deep sleep, still on Legolas' knee.
Legolas smiled and resigned himself as Frodo's pillow. He ran his hand through the Hobbit's dark hair once more before taking the role of the injured watchman in the darkness once again.
---
Smeagol was watching a Parasite float slowly in a large jar filled with a sick-looking solution when an Uruk-Hai came knocking at the laboratory door.
"Who is it, precious?" sang Smeagol while taunting the Parasite with his fingertip.
"Salatz," growled the Uruk-Hai. "I have urgent news for the Dark Master."
"The Precious Master isn't here," hissed Gollum as he hobbled on all fours to the door and opened it. "But he will be. Perhaps nasty Uruks can have some patience and waits for precious Master. Yesss."
Salatz gave Gollum a loud snarl but entered anyway. He settled himself into one of the rough rock and metal chairs in the lab while Gollum hopped onto one of the stools nearby the lab table to inspect the potions brewing.
"We wonders what kind of newsies the Uruk-Hai has for the Master," said Gollum. "Would it be good? Or bad?"
"None of your business, wretch."
"Perhaps the newsies is about the Hobbitses!"
Salatz threw him a deathly glare that spoke more than it intended it to. "Perhaps."
"Are they... dead?" Gollum asked quietly with a small glimmer of hope showing through narrow eyelids. The hope that he had that the Hobbits were dead was a half-hope that confused him. After all, if they were dead, how could he hear them scream in pain and torture?
Salatz said nothing in reply and averted his eyes away from Gollum. He wouldn't reply to the numerous questions that Gollum bombarded him with until the Dark Master came into the room.
To anything that didn't have a large quantity of Darkness in their bodies, the room itself seemed to freeze and die when the Master entered. The long, concealing black cloak the Master wore now seemed to be alive with Darkness and the hem of it looked as if it was dancing with black flames. Like usual, the hood of the cloak was drawn past the Master's face and showed nothing that was underneath.
"Master!" Salatz jumped and bowed deeply. "I have news for you from the boundary of the Interior."
The Dark Master waited for the news, silent and still.
"The Fellowship of Light has destroyed the Taylor Creek Bridge," he reported quickly. It was very rare that the presence of the Dark Master didn't intimidate its minions. "They also killed one of the more developed Hunters."
A moment of tense silence passed. The walls of the Lair weren't tinted deep red with paint. Nor was it tinted for no reason. Salatz was trying very hard not to shake.
"Very well." The Master beckoned Gollum to follow and dismissed Salatz, who breathed a small sigh of relief.
"So the Fellowship is at our doorstep," drawled the Master. "Very interesting news." He led Gollum through the underground halls with eerie silence and swiftness. "Do you not think so, Gollum?"
"Yesss," he agreed. "Interesting to know that the nasty Hobbitses with their nasty Fellowship is coming."
"Do you know what their coming means, Gollum?"
"What it means?" Gollum repeated. "We do not know what this means. Does it means we gets to... to play?"
The Master gave a small sound of amusement. It stopped at an elegantly carved door that looked as if it was scratched and beaten severely since it was made. A mysterious feeling emanated from beyond the door.
"Oh, we will get to play," the Master said evilly. He opened the creaky door and let Gollum peer inside. Smeagol took some control in their minds and looked in as well.
The room was completely dark except for a single, dull light source in the middle of the ceiling that created a dim circle of light that vaguely showed the room's only occupant. The being was still, sitting limply and noiselessly on the bare chair. Faint sparkles reflecting the dead light came from its wrists and ankles and just showed the victim's incarceration of chains. The being's head was down, its chin to its chest, oblivious to its visitors.
"We'll play," whispered the Master maliciously, "and we'll have fun. Won't we, my pet?"
The being raised its head slowly, enough to reveal two empty eyes. A fiendish smile was pulled across its face.
"Of course..."
--- ---