A.N.: And here we are again, finally. Sorry for the really long wait this time, folks. Don't you just hate it when an author leaves a cliffy then vanishes for weeks on end? LOL. I know I do, so profound apologies. But life happens.

Thanks again to NiRi for betaing. Though somehow she didn't get the second half of this chapter, so the second bit should be a nice surprise. Or not, if you happen to be an elf called Legolas.

Thank you toofor all the lovely reviews, you guys feed the plot bunny. So she thanks you too.

Lena

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One Friend to Another

11:

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Estel's eyes flew wide with terror as he watched Legolas's head fall forward and his body fall against the ropes holding him. The long blond hair hung down, obscuring the elf's face. The child ducked his head, trying to see if the elf's eyes were open, pulling against the hold the vile orcs had on his arms so he could see better.

"Leg'lass?" he croaked pleadingly, hoping for some kind of response.

The orcs pulled the child roughly upright again, and Estel could only watch helplessly as Grknak stepped angrily over to the elf and savagely grabbed the blond locks. With a jerk the huge orc raised Legolas' head then practically flung the head loose again with a curse as it took in the slack features and closed eyes.

"Cursed elf!" the orc spat and gestured to two of it's cronies "Cut it loose and leave it ".

"But what about us?" Urshgk spoke up as he stepped to the tree with his rusty knife to severe the ropes "won't it do fer eatin'?"

"Naw, the ugly thing has been poisoned or something''" came the answer. "Leave it for the wolves to gnaw on"

Urshgk severed the ropes around Legolas' shoulders. The orc watched gleefully as the elf fell to the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut while the vile leader turned it's attention to the little human.

"As for you….." Grknak began, grabbing the front of Estel's tunic in a fist and drawing back the other hand to strike the child "…….I can just finish with you what I started with that damn elf!"

"HOLD!" came a great booming voice "Do not touch the human!"

The voice seemed to echo all around the clearing and the very air seemed to vibrate with the power in those few words. The orcs glanced fearfully around them, trying to trace the direction it came from. Several reached for weapons, feebly preparing to put up a fight but unsure where to aim for.

Grknak had indeed held in what he had been about to do, so great was the shock at the sudden disembodied order. The orc leader stood as if frozen, one hand in the air still poised to strike the little boy. Was this his Master? The orc briefly wondered.

Suddenly something sailed through the air and landed among the thickest throng of orcs. There was a great dense puff of smoke when the strange object struck the ground. A minute later the breeze cleared the smoke away…to reveal all six orcs lying dead on the hard ground. The rest of the lesser orcs did then what came naturally to them. They fled in abject terror, leaving only Grknak standing, still frozen but with still a grip on the child's clothing.

Grknak was scared, but he did not show it and he still had an advantage over the mystery assailant. He had the child. Grabbing a stronger grip of the cowering boy. Turning with the child in front of him to use as a shield he addressed the owner of the voice, at the same time producing a long knife. He held it to Estel's throat, ignoring the terrified tears on the boy's face.

"I have the boy!" the orc challenged. "Show yourself if you want him back"

"If you insist" The voice came from behind the tree just next to Grknak, at the same time as a great gnarled staff whipped out and caught the vile creature hard on the side of the head. Grknak fell down to the ground stone dead, his slack grasp releasing Estel as he fell. The child crumpled to the ground in shock, just as a cloaked figure kneeled in front of him. Two strong arms tenderly embraced the child, pressing him against a grey clad chest.

"Are you injured, Estel?" asked a kindly voice.

Estel raised his head in shock and looked into two kind grey eyes set in an old yet ageless face.

"Gandalf?" he asked, his voice unbelieving. "Oh, Gandalf!" and he threw himself into the comforting embrace, great sobs wracking his tiny body. The wizard held the shaking boy for a moment, letting the tears soak his cloak.

"Estel, come child" Gandalf gently pried the sobbing boy away from him and Estel sniffed, gamely trying to get his emotions under control. "Are you hurt?" the great grey wizard inquired again.

Estel shook his head. Then his eyes flew open in a sudden, powerful memory. "Leg'lass, Gandalf. Leg'lass is hurt!"

Gandalf immediately turned his attention to the heap of limbs and blond tresses on the ground that was the Mirkwood prince. Quickly he cut the tight bonds from the prince's wrists and ankles, then gently he straightened the elf onto his back. His fingers probed the slender neck searching for a pulse, all the while his lips moving in a silent prayer that Estel could not make out. He probed several times, fingers searching and hoping for the vital sign and then there…..there it was. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer to whatever of the Valar was keeping the prince alive.

The prince lived, but barely. His breathing was shallow and his heart beat in a faint irregular pattern. Estel watched wide-eyed and fearful as the wizard opened the elf's tunic and felt his ribs for injury, wincing in sympathy when he revealed the bruised and battered torso. His skilled fingers found several cracked ribs, but nothing major. At least not as far as the physical went.

Gandalf gently placed one hand on the prince's forehead, the other over the scarred chest and the heart beating feebly. He closed his eyes in concentration. Estel watched as the wizard's lips moved again silently as if in prayer and his face impassive. Then the wizard's forehead crinkled in a deep frown and the eyes flew open as if in shock, at the same time withdrawing his hands from the prince as if he had been burned.

"Estel, I need you do something for me" the grey pilgrim addressed the child. "Can you go to my horse - it is just over there" The wizard pointed to the nearby copse of trees. "There is a flask in my pack. Bring it to me, quickly!"

Estel stumbled to his feet and ran to the horse as fast as his tired little feet could carry him. He did not know why but he felt that time was important here and now.

Gandalf smoothed a hand over the face of the elf in front of him, noting the clammy skin and sickly pallor. Legolas' lips were parted slightly as his failing body struggled to continue drawing in air. The wizard drew a thumb over one chiselled cheekbone with the gentleness of a father, and whispered encouragingly to the dying prince.

"Hold on, Legolas. You cannot leave us, young one" the old wizard quietly pleaded "Just hold on".

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Dusk had long given way to the darkest of night by the time Gandalf had done all he could for the ailing Mirkwood elf. He had managed to make Legolas drink small quantities of miruvor and water, and had made the prince as comfortable as he could. He needed Elrond, the wizard told himself for the hundredth time. Only Elrond or Galadriel had the power to defeat the great invading shadow that had taken the elf. They could enter his mind and give him the strength to defeat the blackness encroaching Legolas' very soul, the wizard hoped. He had tried and failed to do just that, but his power was just not strong enough.

"Maybe together" he whispered to himself. "Elrond and I…..Galadriel. Yes, if she could come, or we bring him to her. No….not enough time to journey to Lorien" Gandalf took another long puff on his pipe and expelled the smoke, his brow crinkled in thought. He glanced across the fire he had built to the prone figure lying still under the blankets and furs he had brought with him. He sighed and spoke to the night once more, "Not enough time"

Huddled under the same furs that covered Legolas lay Estel. The child had watched the old wizard tend to the prince in exhausted fascination. He had been too tired and too near deep shock himself to even wonder how the ancient Maier came to be here. It was all he could do to stay awake and help as best he could. He had numbly ate the rabbit Gandalf had cooked for him over the roaring camp fire, fetched and carried water from the nearby stream then closed his eyes and fell into deep slumber. Gandalf had lifted the child and placed him next to Legolas. The child had automatically snuggled in under the furs and curled up against the shuddering body of his elven friend, all without waking.

A faint moan came from the bundle under the blankets and Gandalf glanced up from the fire, ready to jump to his feet and sooth Legolas as he tossed and turned as if in great pain. He had started to rise from the log he sat on when strangely the elf suddenly settled again, the moaning stopped and he lay still once more. Curious and concerned Gandalf strode over to look down on the two figures and saw that Estel had taken an arm out from under the covers and placed it unconsciously over Legolas' hand where it lay atop the covers. The small brown hand lay in great contrast to the long strong fingers of the archer. Muddy brown on alabaster white. Flaxen gold hair mingled with dark tangled brown. Despite the tenseness of the situation Gandalf could not help a small smile.

"A strange pair, you two make" he mused with a long suck on his pipe. "Light and earth, wind and fire"

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Legolas hung on the edge of a great precipice. Nothing came between him and a great fall into the darkness below. The dense blackness stretched miles below him and he sensed it creeping higher, towards his toes.

His fingers clung to the tiny ledge above his head and his arms ached. Blood ran freely from the fingertips, making it harder and harder to grip the icy cold rock. His feet struggled to find purchase on the cliff face but found none and he knew it would not be long before he fell.

Noises rose up to reach his ears from the dark. Words and voices he did not understand, though he knew the language. The Black Speech of Sauron. It rose in waves and assaulted his every sense, making his head and ears hurt and red spots dance before his eyes.

The blackness crept higher, he felt a deep cold emanating from it as it crawled over his feet and started to swallow his legs. It was like he stood in an icy lake, the cold drawing all feeling from him as it crept higher and higher.

Legolas gasped and grit his teeth, gripped the small ledge tighter as his fingers threaten to let go. His arms shook now with the effort of clinging to the ledge. Clenching his eyes shut so that he would not look down he concentrated on breathing. Sucking in a lungful of air he noticed the smell. Rotting flesh, fetid breath, death. Rising higher and higher, it had reached his chest now and it was so hard to breathe. It was so cold!

Then something warm landed on his right hand. It was the warmth he noticed first, such a contrast to the stinking, vibrating cold. He gasped in shock and forced his eyes to open and look up. He would not look down. Must not look down.

The Shadow had reached his shoulders now, he could feel it.

There perched on his own hand was another, this one with small chubby fingers. He could see a wrist above the hand, a child's arm. It gave a feeble tug on his hand, the tiny fingers tried to wrap around his own wrist now and pulled. Legolas felt himself rise, his body was pulled a few precious inches up the face of the black cliff, then more.

The Shadow was now back below his feet.

One hand clinging to a new crack in the rock Legolas raised the other and gripped the little hand for dear life. He would not let go. And just as strongly the hand gripped him back.

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TBC