DISCLAIMER:

Vs 1-We're going on a quest, 'Cuz quests are the best. We drink much ale, And we never fail 'cuz— We're going on a quest, a quest, a quest! Oh! We're going on a quest to— Mount Doom!

Vs 2-We're going to Mount Doom! The Ring will go BOOM! We're going to Mount Doom— To destroy— The One Ring that rules—"

Okay... We'll stop singing now. But we really don't have the rights to LOTR. But, gosh darn, I wish I could have them... sigh

ABBY'S NOTE: Yay! I'm updating and it hasn't been seven months! Yay! Be sure to post to encourage my good behavior... Now I just have to write a new chappie for Ella Ticked Off... My reviewers are ticked off. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty

Aragorn peered ahead. The source of the smoke was getting closer, and the sickening smell of burning orc flesh was becoming stronger. He turned and peered over his shoulder to see Gimli and Sam clinging for dear life to the back of an undersized horse. Gimli was in the front, attempting to use the reigns to steer, while Sam was kicking the horse on the sides with his heels, trying to persuade the horse to go a bit faster. Talk about the blind leading the blind...

"Try to keep up!" Aragorn called to the scared-looking pair.

"Completely unnatural. Dwarves aren't supposed to ride these crazy beasts!" Gimli muttered, while Sam nodded vigorously in agreement. As if in protest to being called a crazy beast, the horse began to trot at a jolting pace.

Aragorn couldn't help but laugh as the horse carried the dwarf and the hobbit, both yelling commands to stop while bouncing like rag dolls, across the plains.

But as he turned back towards the rising smoke, his dark moos returned. Merry and Pippin could very well be dead, and he did not look forward to the sight of their bodies if they were. The ranger would fight, and kill, if he had to, but he did not relish it or its aftermath. His nose crinkled in disgust as the sickening smell rose to his nostrils-- orcs smelled worse dead than alive.

Sam was sick to his stomach. The mixture of the nasty smell and the incessant jostling of the horse caused his stomach to tie up in a knot. He wished he knew whether his friends were alive or not, but he was afraid to find out. He was a stubborn hobbit, though, and he was determined to search every dead body in order to find his two comrades.

The little group finally reached the carnage of the battle. There were two fires: one for the orcs and one for the men. Aragorn, though worried for the hobbits, visited the first funeral pyre. After being joined by Sam and Gimli, he dropped his head in remembrance.

"These men died in service to Middle Earth. May they go in peace, knowing they have died to save those they love, and those we love, as well."

The three companions from three very different races of Middle Earth looked upon each other with mutual trust and understanding. They all knew that they could rely on each other in times of need and sorrow. If they were to die as the men burning in front of them had, at least they would die alongside of friends.

Aragorn silently turned away from the peaceful bodies of his fellow men and back towards the carnage of the battle. He walked slowly towards the other fire. He saw many an orc piled atop the stinking heap, but he did not focus on them; he focused on a small cloak near the bottom of the heap.

Sam cried out as he saw it, too. He ran to the rumpled cloak and tugged on it, trying to pull it out from under the dead orcs. He sobbed as he pulled and pulled. When it would not come out, Sam started pulling orcs down from the mound, crying still.

Gimli put his hand on Sam's shoulder, consolingly. "They could not still be alive under there, lad."

"There is still a chance! They are str- strong!"

"Lad..."

"Their bodies should not be burned here! They deserve to leave this world in honor, as those men over there did," he gestured wildly towards the other pyre. "They died on the same side!"

"I know lad. I'll help you."

And so, they both began to pull orcs down from the pile, being careful of the fire, but still burning themselves. Sam cried silently, now.

They finally reached the bottom of the carnage. Gimli held up the cloak.

"There is no hobbit with this cloak..."

After Sam realized that Gimli was right, he noticed that Aragorn had not been helping them. He turned around to see that Aragorn was kneeling on the ground, his hand on the earth.

"What is it, Strider?" asked Sam.

"An elf laid here-- Lindi. Her blood soaks the earth. Legolas must hurry her to Edoras, but..." He moved a few feet away from Sam and spoke again, "The hobbits laid here and crawled here..."

"What? What?" cried Sam.

Aragorn held up a piece of rope that was frayed at the edges. "The rope was cut, their bondage undone." He moved even further away from the fires. "They headed towards the woods!"

"Then, they're alive!" yelled Sam, hope returning, as he ran towards the forest.

"Wait!" Aragorn called after Sam, who stopped.

"What?"

"This is Fangorn Forest-- We must proceed with caution."

"What madness could have driven them into there?" asked Gimli.

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Legolas lifted Lindi in his arms. He could feel how cool she was, and it worried him greatly. She was drifting away, and Legolas knew it. He couldn't let her die! He walked over to the horse that he had been given by Eomér. He gently lifted Lindi on to the front of the horse. He then mounted himself. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her. He placed his arm securely around her waist, trying not to hurt her, but also trying to keep her as still as possible. He leaned down and whispered in her ear:

"Hold on, Creirwy, stay with me."

"Are you ready, elf?" called Eomér.

"Yes. Let's go."

And with that, the Rohirrim and the two elves rode towards Edoras.

Two days passed before they reached the capital city. They stopped only twice. Each time Legolas had cleaned and dressed Lindi's wounds. She seemed to grow steadily worse. Her normal pale skin had turned deathly white, and her eyes were sunken into her face. She screamed in the night, and nothing Legolas could do would calm her. He worried for her. He feared that she might not make it. The night terrors drained her of her strength. It was only a matter of time, something she was running out of.

As they entered Edoras, Eomér rode back to Legolas.

"Sir, elf." Legolas looked up. "A word, please."

"Yes, what is it?"

"You will not be welcomed by the king or his... advisor," he nearly spat the word out of his mouth. "I will have to show you a way to sneak into the palace. There is an empty room where you may stay with her and tend to her wounds. I will have my sister secretly get you whatever supplies you may need, as long as we possess it."

"Thank you, Lord Eomér. I am grateful for your hospitality, if not the King's." He wasn't really paying attention to Eomér; he was looking down at the elf in his arms, Her breathing was shallow, and she could no longer hold herself at all.

"Let us go. Follow me."

Legolas dismounted from Arod and followed Eomér with Lindi in his arms.

"Hold on, Lindi. We are almost there." He prayed to the Valor to spare her.

They walked through the halls quietly and came to a room that seemed to be empty. Eomér opened the door and led them in. The bed was a good size, and it was adorned by a few pillows and a blanket. Looking around, Legolas also noticed a dresser, nightstand, and a desk.

"I will send my sister with water and bandages as soon as may be. Is there anything else we may provide you with?"

"Yes, I think. I will need cloths, a nightgown for the lady, a candle, a sharp needle, and thread."

"I will see what I can do." Eomér left the room.

Legolas carried Lindi over to the bed and put her down gently. He removed her bandages. He saw that the blood flow had stopped, which gave him hope, but she had lost so much already.

"Sir?" A voice from the doorway startled Legolas; he had been so absorbed in caring for Lindi that he had not heard the woman approach. He surveyed her and saw that she carried the supplies that he had asked for.

"Come in, Milady," he greeted her quietly.

"My brother asked me to deliver these things to you." She looked past Legolas and saw the pale elf lying on the bed. She took in a quick gasp of air-- the elf looked near to death!

Legolas walked over to the woman and took the things from her. She just stood there in shock. She finally found her voice again.

"Do... do... you need anything else?" she whispered.

"No, milady. I just need to be left alone to tend to my companion."

She nodded, and turned to leave, closing the door behind her.

Legolas returned to the bed to look at Lindi once again. He placed the items on the nightstand and sat down next to her. Removing their pouch from an inner pocket, he took some herbs and put them into the basin of water. He then proceeded to take one of the cloths and soak it in the water.

He whispered softly to Lindi, "I'm sorry, Creirwy, this will sting." As he placed the cloth over her wound, she jerked slightly, but he continued to speak words of comfort to her.

When he was done cleaning the wounds to the best of his ability, he lit the candle and heated the needle in its flame. Threading the needle with thread, he tested its sharpness-- it would do. Carefully, he sewed the she-elf's wound shut. An hour later, he finished his job, exhausted but satisfied.

"My lord?" Legolas turned toward the door where the woman stood. "My brother sent me to check on you."

"Yes, milady. And I do have a favor to ask."

"What is that, my lord?"

"Could you change her into this nightgown? I would myself, but..."

The woman smiled up at him. "Of course, my lord." She moved over to the bed as Legolas left the room to stand in the hall, arms crossed. Ten minutes later, the woman came out and told him that he could return to her bedside.

He walked to where Lindi lay. She looked peaceful... almost too peaceful.

"I must go to see the prince," she whispered. "He has died, and I would like to pay my last respects."

Legolas nodded slowly.

"I am Eowyn. If you need anything, let me know."

She bowed and left him to his vigil. Once she had left, Lindi began to groan, her face contorted. Legolas wished with all of his being that she would wake.

ABBY'S NOTE: Again... not dead yet... Muahahaha!