Not long after being branded with the marks of the enemy, Legolas was freed. Hurriedly, he grabbed up his clothing and dressed, save for the jerkin. This he clutched tightly and he stumbled along after the orc. It may have been midday, but in his weariness and pain, Legolas did not take notice. His only focus was on making it to a tent so that he could sleep. Ahead of him, the orc stopped and pointed to the right with a finger that seemed to be missing half its length. Legolas nodded and silently hoped to see Gimli inside. Carefully he picked his way to the tent, trying his best not to move into a position that aggravated his wounds. Painful minutes passed before he reached the dirty tent and staggered inside, holding his breath in anticipation.

His breath came out once more in a grateful rush. Gimli lay in one corner, already lightly snoring, his chest rising and falling in a deep rhythmic pattern. Legolas slightly thanked the Valar and he eased himself down onto the floor. He had much to be thankful for thus far. Gimli was still at his side and by some good grace, the creatures who had spent the better part of the morning torturing him had left his belongings unspoiled. The ring, though it had been dangerously exposed, remained hidden to enemy eyes. He touched the supple leather and felt the slight bulge in the inner pocket. He smiled grimly.

If only now my luck will hold for a while longer. A few more days, if all goes well, and this world shall be rid of this evil for good, he thought just before sleep took him.

It was Gimli who awoke first, for though the orcs had taken him to work the furnaces, he had gotten back to the tent well before Legolas had. His heart had burned with the desire to seek out what evil may have befallen his friend and only the knowledge that he, and most likely Legolas as well, would be killed in suspicion held him back. Despite his best efforts to remain awake to wait for Legolas, he had fallen asleep. Now he was rested, though the thought of further sleep was not wholly unappealing to him. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of a hand. Once his eyes focused, he caught sight of Legolas and a gasp bubbled up in his throat. His friend was coated in blood and lay gingerly on his side. Gimli glanced around, wishing he could do something. His hands flexed as thoughts of taking up his makeshift axe and slicing orc necks flashed in his mind. How he wished that such dreams could be fulfilled!

Instead, he saw a small stone jar of water in the corner. He went to it and peered inside. It was only half full and when he sniffed it, it seemed to be a little stagnant. Still, an idea formed in his mind. He tore of a length of his traveling cloak and balled it up before sticking it into the wide jug. He felt the material soak up the water and pulled it back out once more, gently squeezing some of the excess liquid from it. He did not much care for keeping the water supply completely clean, for it would not be drinkable, he reasoned. He took the wet rag and brought it to Legolas' upward shoulder and began to cleanse the elf's wounds, trying hard not to stare at the emblem that had been seared into his skin. Gimli tensed as the cloth came into contact with Legolas' skin, for he did not wish to wake the elf. But Legolas did not stir, momentarily worrying the dwarf. But then he reasoned that Legolas had been through a great ordeal and was most likely too deep into his dreams. He continued his ministrations, working with the gentlest care that he could muster. It took some doing, as he worked unhurriedly so as not to reopen any of the slowly healing wounds, but he completed his task, save for the bloody mess that was the elf's face. This Gimli did not touch, for he did not know what sort of damage had been done there, and he wished not to cause Legolas any pain. Still, all else had been tended to, yet Legolas still lay wrapped in sleep by the time Gimli had finished. He looked at the water in the jug and saw that it was soiled a deep red. He set it to one side and eased a little food from the provisions Legolas had taken from the previous camp. As always, it was not much; just enough to quiet his protesting stomach.

It was during this time that Legolas awoke. Gimli could see the elf as he sat uneasily in his pain and confusion. He had remembered going to sleep covered in blood, yet as he looked himself over, he saw none. He certainly remembered his torture, as his body still throbbed and screamed in pain. He unsheathed his sword and used the flat end to look himself over more clearly. He frowned; his face was still a mass of dried blood.

"The jug," Gimli said, startling the elf prince slightly. "There's a wet cloth you can use to clean yourself off. Your face was the one area I was afraid to touch."

"You…did all this?" Legolas asked, touched.

"Aye."

"What for?"

"Any true friend would have done the same," the dwarf replied as he finished off the last piece of meat that he had taken. "Come, get yourself clean and eat something."

Legolas nodded and propped the sword up so that it leaned against the taunt material of the tent walls. The smooth steel gave him a decent enough reflection to work by and with careful strokes, he began to wipe at the blood. He drew in one or two sharp breaths as he tended to particularly painful sections. Still, he completed his task quickly and looked himself over once more. The area just under his left eye was swollen and stained with a dark bruise. His nose was broken, though he could not gauge how badly. He was no healer and knew of nothing that he could do to tend to such afflictions. He settled on leaving things alone for the time at hand.

He replaced his sword into its sheath and briefly his fingertips brushed lightly over his chest where the mark of the Eye now resided. It was painful to the touch, for the skin had not had the time yet to begin healing, but he traced the design absent mindedly.

"Legolas?" asked Gimli, breaking the young prince from his thoughts.

He shook his head and laughed. "Forgive me friend. My mind wandered for a moment."

He strode over to the center of the tent with three long steps and sat cross legged upon the floor. He took a small ration of food and ate.

"Have you the strength to continue our journey?" he asked the dwarf between mouthfuls.

"Me?" asked Gimli. "Surly I should be asking if you are fit to travel. You suffered more than I did."

"I am glad to hear then that you are prepared to push onwards. I fear to linger too long in one place."

"Are you certain you do not need more time?" Gimli asked, concern apparent in his voice.

Legolas nodded. "I am far from being in the most fit condition, it is true," he replied, "yet our errand can suffer no delay. Too many times now certain objects have been in danger of discovery. What matters most still remains in my possession, through some good grace, yet I would not push our fortunes. We leave as soon as it is fully dark."

Gimli nodded his approval and set about preparing for their departure.

Night came too quickly for the dwarf's liking. He was gradually becoming more nervous as the road to Mount Doom grew shorter. He said nothing of the matter to Legolas, for the elf had enough problems of his own to deal with. Gimli wondered time and again what a burden that the ring had to have been. It was certain that it grew steadily more intolerable as they came closer to their destination. He watched Legolas grow ever more sullen and withdrawn as they approached the mountain. Three days passed in this manner until, at last, they found themselves at the foot of Mount Doom.

They had traveled so that they would bypass the orc encampment at the very base of the mountain, and it was in this manner that they managed to escape further torment at the hands of the enemy. It would not be an easy climb up and once they were high enough, they would have to cut horizontally across the craggy slope to reach the doorway into the heart of the evil mountain. Gimli's heart sank as he looked upon the terrain that stood before him. Even for the healthiest dwarf, the climb would be treacherous. Now he worried about Legolas, for although the elf acted as though he was at his peak, Gimli could see that his friend was weary and bowed under the strain of the ring. Then too, the food supplies were nearly spent and the water in their wineskins had since come to end. Gimli could tell that all of these factors had begun to cause Legolas to lose hope. Yet even as they stood side by side, taking in the mountain before them, Legolas set his jaw and began his ascent.