"Legolas?" called a tentative voice over the roar of the wind. "Legolas? Where have you gone to, crazy elf?"

Gimli picked his way over the mountain side. He had only expected Legolas to have been gone for a few minutes while the prince went to fill the waterskins anew. When Legolas had failed to appear after a quarter of an hour, the dwarf had grown worried and had braved his way back out into the storm. He was genuinely worried about his friend, for he could tell in the last few days that the stress of the journey was becoming threatening to the elf's very life. Legolas barely ate or spoke anymore and when he did sleep, Gimli could tell that the prince's dreams were fitful and nightmarish. During waking hours, the elf was withdrawn and irritable; totally absorbed in his own thoughts and on the path that still lay ahead. Then too, Gimli had noticed how often Legolas' hand strayed to his chest and his fingers caressed the ring hidden there underneath his leather jerkin. Gimli sighed as he pulled his wet cloak tighter around him. Where was Legolas? The dwarf certainly did not wish to spend all night out looking for the elf. He was tired beyond thought and only wished to settle down inside the dry cave and rest.

He was nearly about to give up his search when he came to the stone where Legolas lay unmoving. Had not a streak of lightning snaked through the overhead sky at that moment, and it would have been likely that Gimli would have passed by, unaware. But in the momentary flash of light, he saw a piece of cloth plastered wetly against the stone before him and he recognized it for the cloak of Lothlorien. A line of worry creased Gimli's brow as he scrambled onto the rock.

Legolas lay unmoving, blood staining his hair and the left side of his face. His body was twisted and his left arm lay at an unnatural angle. His eyes were closed and the entirety of his head rested almost within the rising pool of water. Gimli saw only too well that if Legolas had fallen any other way or if his head had rested in any other position, he would have drowned in the small pool of water. Now he gently shook the elf, hoping to bring him back to consciousness. After a moment or two of Gimli calling Legolas' name and lightly shaking his friend, Legolas' eyes slowly fluttered open. He moaned as his eyes adjusted from their bleariness.

"I am glad to see you awake," Gimli said, a relieved smile evident beneath his bedraggled beard.

Legolas smiled weakly. "I must have slipped on the rocks. I climbed up for a better view. My foot must have missed its mark when I was coming back down."

Gimli's smile turned to a frown. Elves were not known to fall or take missteps, especially not the Legolas he knew. He said nothing of this though and merely inquired whether Legolas thought if he could stand and make it to their shelter. Legolas nodded and attempted to push himself up. His movement stopped just as abruptly as he tried to move his left arm and he had to bite back a cry of pain. Gimli noticed how the elf's body tensed.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"My arm," Legolas said, gesturing to it with a nod of his head. "I think it is broken. The shoulder may be out of place as well."

"How can you tell?" Gimli asked, for he knew that Legolas was not trained in the ways of healing.

"I watched Lord Elrond, Aragorn, and many other healers for years," Legolas explained quickly. "Though I never had their gift for healing, I learned much as I studied their work."

"Well, then, what do we do?"

"Grab my arm," Legolas instructed as he eased himself into a solid seated position. "Grab the portion above the elbow. Good," he said as Gimli gently grabbed his arm. "When I tell you to, I want you to pull as hard as you can on my arm. Pull straight at you. Do it quick, for I do not wish to tarry here any longer. We are far too exposed here."

Gimli shook his head. "I cannot do this," he protested.

"You must," Legolas gently rebuked him. "Seas, mellon nin. I know you do not wish to cause me pain. I assure you that whatever pain I endure now will be less than the pain I will suffer should I be forced to leave my arm as it is."

Gimli nodded his head in defeated understanding. "Just say the word," he said, trying to sound more confident about his task than he felt.

Legolas did not reply right away. With his good hand, he grabbed up a portion of his cloak and wrung some of the excess water from it. Once he was satisfied, he stuffed the material between his teeth and bit down as hard as he could. He gave a rough jerk of his head to signal for Gimli to start pulling. The dwarf closed his eyes and hesitantly did his part, pulling Legolas' arm with a gentle yet firm force. He wondered how long he would need to keep this up even as he heard the first of Legolas' muffled screams, but after a moment he felt the limb move as the shoulder joint slide back into place. Gimli slowly opened his eyes and saw a pained but relieved look on his friend's face.

"Thank you," Legolas said as he removed the cloth from his mouth.

"There is still the matter of that break," Gimli said, gesturing to the portion of the elf's arm that Legolas cradled against his body.

"Aye," Legolas agreed. "Let us return to our camp. I think I may have an idea of what we can use for a splint once we are out of the rain."

The dwarf nodded and led the elf back down the mountainside for a short way, then turned and entered the small cave. Legolas followed behind him, glad to be sheltered from the wind and rain. Gingerly, he eased the sword and scabbard from his back and set it off to one side. Then he sank down to the floor, resting against the uneven stone wall. Gimli waited for Legolas to get settled before addressing him. Instead, he busied himself with the remains of a small thorny bush that had once lived upon the mountainside. Gimli had come across the long dead plant while Legolas had been out refilling their water supplies. Now the dwarf used his small hatchet to cut the limbs and arraigned them into a small pile. In no time at all, he had a small fire going. When he was finished, he glanced over and saw Legolas sitting quietly to one side.

"Well now," Gimli said softly, "it seems that fortune has not altogether abandoned us. A rock slide must have created this cave and buried that bush." He glanced over at Legolas, but the elf seemed not to have heard him. There was a distant look in his eyes. "Legolas?" he gently asked, and he could see his friend's attention return.

"I am sorry," he apologized. "My thoughts were elsewhere."

Gimli dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. "That matters not. Let us get that arm of yours fixed."

Legolas nodded. "Take my scabbard. If you can, take your axe and split it open. I have looked at it and it seems to be naught but hardened leather and crudely made at that. I can use the halves to brace my arm."

Gimli nodded and took up the scabbard before Legolas had even finished speaking. The fire would not last all night and so he knew that he would need to act quickly. He set about his task even before taking the time to eat, though his stomach grumbled loudly in protest. He was glad to find that Legolas' appraisal of the scabbard had been correct, for he found that the leather put up little resistance to his blade. In a short time he managed to separate the two halves and Legolas took them gratefully. Taking off his own traveling cloak, Gimli tore the material into thin strips and used them to bind the stiff leather to Legolas' arm from his elbow to his wrist, for the dwarf would see no harm come to the elven cloak worn by his friend. His task completed, he then turned his attention to rationing out some of the remaining food for their supper.

They spoke a little while they ate their poor meal, remembering the way that the world once was and of friends that they had known before the Dark Lord had come back into his throne. It was perhaps, the most cheerful camp that they had had on their journey and yet the most somber all at once, for both wondered what should happen if they reached the Cracks of Doom the following day. Of these dark thoughts, neither of them spoke, and there was heaviness in each of their hearts, for they knew that even if they reached their goal, there was no guarantee making a journey back home.

Soon after they finished their meal, the companions grew quiet and sleep took them both. Not long after, the fire dwindled and came to a sputtering death as the last of the wood turned to useless ash. Beyond the clouds and reek of Mordor, the moon climbed to its peak and began to descend once more. Legolas stirred in his sleep and woke, a sudden feeling of urgency coming over him. Something told him that he needed to continue his journey. He glanced in the direction of Gimli, who snored gently in his sleep, and shook his head.

"Leave him here," said the voice inside his mind. "Though you have needed him thus far, you cannot risk taking him further. Leave the supplies with him, for he has a chance to turn back, to escape this land once the ring is destroyed. You know all too well that to lead him further only heightens the chance that he will perish. Leave now, while he still sleeps."

With a sigh, Legolas knew this course of action to be in his friend's best interest. Silently, he packed a half a ration of food and his waterskin and headed out into the misty pre-dawn world.

Saes – please, Mellon nin – my friend