Disclaimer: I do not own any of the LOTR or any charaters
where tears fall: thanx soo much to all my wounderful reviewers! Thank you for your tips and adive. Like I promised, this chapter is longer! yea!
Chapter 3
Legolas sprinted through the woods as soon as his sensitive ears heard the call of the warg, his feet barely disturbing the forest floor as he sped through the forest.
But his path was not leading away from the warg. It leading to the beast.
Normally if the elf had heard a warg, he would have tried avoid it at all costs, for wargs were vicious beasts that usually hunted in packs. There was no way any elf, even himself, could take on ten of the beasts at once.
But now he was running right to the animals. He was sure his ears had picked up the sound of a fight, and if one of his fellow elves was fighting the beasts, he would not hide or run away.
Legoas leapt to the closest tree and continued his trek through the trees.
(Wood elves are considerably faster on trees than they are on land.)
The fair being sprinted along the trees with such grace and balance only an elf could posses.
He halted and crouched low in a tree when he came to a small clearing.
The sight that greeted him would have been hilarious in any other circumstance.
There before him lay a dead warg and apparently its slayer trapped underneath. Legolas raised an elegant eyebrow at the scene. The elf could not tell what the being was, for he was covered in whole by the bulk of the dead warg.
The blond elf looked intently at the trapped being who, at the moment, was fruitlessly struggling.
The being swiftly turned his head as much as his body would allow him, trying to see through the thick bushes.
Legolas gaped at what he saw.
The being was a human!
Legolas blinked a few times trying to see if his prestigious elven eyes were deceiving him.
He looked at wonder at the shape of the man's ears and his rugged appearance.
It was obvious that the man was alive and not seriously injured, for he was moving around, desperately trying to get out from underneath the warg.
A sensation of curiosity was replaced by fear that quickly engulfed the elf.
The elf looked suspiciously at the man from the safety of the trees, unconsciously drawing back towards the tree.
Legolas had only seen a man once and it was not a very pleasant meeting.
His adar and whole kingdom held a semi-hatred of the race of men that Legolas did not fully understand. Even though his first meeting with a man was not the best, he refused to believe that all the race of man was bad.
His father had drilled it into his head that "They were greedy and only helped if it would profit themselves" and that. "They were disgusting and selfish." Legolas looked down at the man pinned by the warg, sympathy and hatred showing in his blue eyes. He clenched and unclenched as emotions and feelings consumed him.
He was tempted to turn away and leave the man to die.
Men were supposed to be terrible and greedy.
But it would be inhumane to simply leave the man.
Why was he here anyways? It is his fault that he is in this mess.
What if he was just passing by? He needs help.
Legolas remained staring at the man, his heart and mind both creating an intense battle that raged within him. The man looked so pitiful and needy.
Legoas sighed.
His father had told him once that his good heart would kill him one day.
He just hoped to Valar that this was not that day.
Legoas knew he had to help the man, human or not.
The elf shot his head to the side and saw three more wargs coming toward the clearing. Legolas swiftly took out his bow and strung an arrow. He waited a few precarious moments, blue orbs searching for a target, and let the arrow go. The arrow sailed through the air and struck one of the beasts perfectly in the heart, causing it to keel over and die instantly. The other wargs did not even pause their campaign for a moment as their comrade toppled to the ground.
Legolas already had another arrow ready before the fist one struck but did not let it fly. The wargs were already too close to the clearing. If he wanted to save the man, he would have to use his knives. With a sigh Legolas discarded his bow and pulled out his twin elven knives, erecting a noise of metal on metal as he pulled them from their sheaths.
He soundlessly jumped down from the safety of the tree, ignoring the strand of golden blond hair that fell on his face, and prepared to fight the bloodthirsty wargs bounding a him.
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Aragorn cringed at the horrible howling of the wargs. He knew more were coming, he just had no idea how many. Plus he was still trapped underneath the huge, dead beast.
He valiantly reached for his sword in attempted to draw it out of the skull of the beast.
He needed to defend himself, even though he highly doubted that he could in his state.
Aragorn reached toward the head of the warg even though his ribs felt as though someone was lighting a very large fire on his stomach. He stretched his arm as far as it would go before he could take the burning in his ribs no longer.
Aragorn relaxed again letting his head softly fall on the ground, and took deep breath to ease the fire raging in his ribs.
The man reached up again and used all his effort to pull the head of the warg towards him, grunting with pain, and ignoring the thick blood that soaked his arm.
He relaxed again almost feeling the wargs upon him.
Only one more chance.
He stretched his arm again, reaching with all his might and energy.
The hilt of the sword was only centimeter from his fingers.
He gave one last anguished cry and reached toward the object that looked unnaturally farther than it should be. Aragorn nearly sighed with relief as he grabbed the hilt of the sword, sticking out of the beat's skull.
With some effort (and pain) Aragorn pried it from the warg's head, receiving in return a sickening noise. He grimaced and mumbled something to the effect of "that's nice".
Aragorn turned to the right searching for the other wargs he knew were there. He could make out two of the beasts running towards him.
Aragorn racked his brain for a solution to the current problem.
He was now trapped under a dead warg with a few bruised ribs and only a sword to defend himself with. Aragorn knew full well that the sword he had so valiantly retrieved from the warg's skull would do little to protect him while he was trapped under the beast.
Even if he managed to kill the on coming wargs he still had a problem of him being trapped under an awfully bad smelling warg with a few bruised ribs and nothing to defend himself other than a sword, from the other dark creatures in the woods.
Things were looking very bleak for the human.
He was suddenly aware of another warg that appeared to be dead in the distance. Aragorn did not have time to see what had ended the warg's life as two beasts leapt at him, saliva streaming from their mouths. Aragorn braced himself for the impact of the huge monsters on him, tearing at his throat.
He held his sword out the best he could, but surprisingly enough, the wargs veered to the left as if they were attacking something else.
Aragorn heard the sound of knives and the yelp of a hurt warg but could not see over the warg's unruly hair on top of him. The human pulled at the hair of the warg trying to move it from obstructing his view, but only caused the smell of the warg to become more pungent, and his arm to become more soaked in blood.
The human was left to listen helplessly to the fight going on. There was another yelp and thud, that the man sincerely hoped was a warg and not his defender.
Aragorn became frustrated and heard the distinctive crack of bones and yell.
Suddenly all was silent.
Aragorn held his breath and remained silent. He could hear nothing more than the eerie sound of the wind through the trees and his own heart beat through his ears.
Enough of this he thought and ignoring all pain, pushed at the warg with all his might. He used a combination of pushing pulling and wriggling to try to move the warg.
Finally, the beast moved off his chest and he was able to painfully wriggle the rest of his body out from underneath it.
Aragorn gave a sigh of relief and sat panting and holding his ribs. Sword in hand he stood up, and immediately felt sick. He grabbed at tree for support and waited, head down, for the feeling to subside. He looked up, and the sight that greeted him made him almost want to go back under the warg.
There, on the other side of the clearing, was an elf clad in green and brown laying limply on the ground.
Crimson blood stained his tunic and hair and there were visible scratches and bruises on him.
Along the ground lay three dead wargs.
One that he had killed, and two thatm, apparently, the elf had killed.
He looked at the elf not far from a warg, face down, apparently unconscious, he hoped. Aragorn's healer instincts kicked in at the sight and he ran, or hobbled, as fast ad he could over to the elf and checked for a pulse.
The elf was still alive.
Aragorn let out a sigh and looked for other injuries on the elf.
He flipped the fair being over to get a better look at him, carful not to injure the elf further.
He could not hold a gasp. The elf did not look much older than himself, even though the man was sure the elf was. Elves were immortal, so this one could be hundreds or even thousands of years old, even though he looked younger than twenty. Beside his age, he was surprised to find that the elf was beautiful. Elves were fair by nature, even his own brothers were fairer than any human he had ever seen. But this elf was startling. He had blond hair that seemed to envelope and reflect every light of the sun with unmatched glory, even with crimson blood staining it. He had never seen very many blond elves in his home. Infact, the only other blond elf he knew of was Glorfindel.
Besides his hair, the elf had beautiful porcelain skin that still emitted a faint glow, even with scratches edging the sides.
This must be a Mirkwood elf. the man thought a smile perking at his lips.
His ada had warned him that the Mirkwood elves did not trust the race of man, but this elf could not be all bad if he rescued him.
Then again, his ada had also told him not to trust anyone except the King. These were dangerous times. You could not trust everyone you meet. Aragirn knew what he had to do. There was no way he was going to leave the elf that risked his life to save him to die.
He gently checked the elf for injuries. His features hardened when he found a broken rib and a badly bruised leg. Aragorn inspected the elves head and frowned when he found a large gash on the side, most likely the cause of all the blood.
Aragorn sighed. The last of the sun's rays were dwindling on the horizon.
He searched the nearby bushes and sent a silent thanks to Valar when he found his pack undisturbed. He needed dress his and the elf's wounds and make camp soon.
He surveyed the area and decided that they should most likely move away from the dead wargs. Aragorn crinkled his nose. The stench was astounding! And he thought it smelt bad when there was one!
He would have move to a different area with out hurting the elf or himself.
Then, hopefully he would have some answers as to how the fair elf found him.
where tears fall: Please review! Any thing I need to improve on? Any grammer mistakes? Do you like it or hate it? I pretty mcuh knoe where this story is going, but any suggestions will be appreciated. Thanx again to the reviewers. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Look for the next one in about a week! REVIEW!
