Chance Encounter
Chapter 8: Rescue Mission
Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas waited until nightfall. As Aragorn had predicted, the Orcs tired of their game with Balian and they unceremoniously threw the man back into the dark corner after having taken off all the tack. Soon, they were dozing off around the fire.
Aragorn signalled to Legolas, who put an arrow to his bowstring and fired. The elven missile flew true and hit one of the sleeping orcs in the neck. Black blood spurted from the wound and the Orc died with a quiet gurgle. One of the others grunted but did not wake. The elf was able to take down two more of the foul creatures before the orcs realized that they were under attack. As soon as one of them sounded the alarm, the two men and the elf rushed into the cave, shooting and hacking at the unprepared Orcs. The fight was fierce but brief. One Orc managed to score a shallow gash on Legolas' thigh before he was cut down by the prince's flashing twin knives. Boromir slashed in every direction and was soon covered in hot black blood.
Aragorn found himself facing the Orc captain. Gurshak was a more competent fighter than most Orcs and the ranger was tired after having travelled so far. Aragorn could feel his arm vibrating after having parried a blow delivered by the Orc. He was quickly forced back and was desperately defending himself. Just as Gurshak was about to strike at Aragorn again, the Orc suddenly stopped in the middle of his onslaught with the tip of an elven knife sticking out of his chest. Aragorn nodded at Legolas, giving the elf his thanks. He was too breathless to speak. Legolas understood and he dipped his head in acknowledgement of the thanks.
Boromir was already at Frodo's side, having cut down the last Orc. Aragorn hurried to Balian's side. The blacksmith was conscious but only just. He hissed in pain as Aragorn gently prodded at his chest to feel for any broken bones. Two ribs were cracked while a few others were bruised. His entire body was riddled with cuts, welts and bruises. The burn on the back of his hand was red and angry. As the ranger examined the bloodied blacksmith, Legolas went to find Balian and Frodo's missing weapons. Boromir and Frodo aided the elven prince in searching for the swords. They found them in a pile of Orc weapons, shining brightly from amidst the dark blades. Frodo lovingly strapped Sting back onto his own belt while Legolas took Balian's sword and wrapped it in one of the Orcs' cleaner cloaks. He planned to present it to the man once they got back to the others.
Boromir stood to one side, observing the elf's actions. Jealousy was building up inside him. He had difficulty understanding why everyone had so readily accepted Balian while he still felt like a stranger. Was he, Boromir son of Denethor, not a member of this fellowship? Why then did Aragorn and Legolas seem to care more about Balian, a mere blacksmith whose origins were unknown, than about him? Legolas even made it his own business to seek out the blacksmith's sword! Boromir kept these bitter emotions inside and they festered, poisoning him against Balian.
Meanwhile, Aragorn was trying to persuade Balian that he was not well enough to walk on his own. The ranger found that this was no easy task; the blacksmith was stubborn. He reasoned in a perfectly calm voice —although the slight quavering indicated that he was exhausted— that his ribs were broken and not his legs. It took a few steps before Balian was finally convinced that he needed help. Aragorn wrapped the other man in his own cloak. Balian's clothes —or rather, the clothes that he had borrowed from Boromir— were in tatters.
Frodo also insisted on walking on his own but after some impressive persuasion from Legolas, he allowed Boromir to carry him. The tired group slowly made their way back to the others. All of them were looking forward to some decent rest and a hot meal that, hopefully, Gandalf had permitted the three hobbits and the dwarf to make.
Merry was keeping watch when he spotted figures slowly making their way down the slope. As they came closer, the hobbit could see that they were the missing pair and their rescuers.
"Gandalf!" he shouted with excitement "Gandalf, they're back! Frodo an' Balian an' Strider an' Legolas an' Boromir are back!"
"Hush, Meriadoc," said the wizard in a reprimanding tone although his eyes were twinkling with joy. "Calm down. You do not want to bring down a host of orcs upon us."
"Mr. Frodo's back?" squealed Sam. "I need to make tea, an' stew! He'll be famished and I haven't got no dinner prepared! Where's those dried mushrooms…" Still muttering to himself, he rummaged around in his pack for the treasured ingredient.
Pippin jumped up and down, laughing with joy and relief. He and Merry began to dance a little jig.
Legolas arrived first, limping slightly. With a sigh, the elf sat down in front of a small fire and gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Gimli. "You're bleedin', elf," commented the dwarf gruffly.
"I'm fine," insisted the elf a little testily.
"We'll see what Aragorn says," retorted the dwarf.
"He won't know about it."
"We'll see."
Boromir and Frodo came next. As soon as Frodo's feet touched the ground, he was overwhelmed by his two cousins and his gardener who were all trying to hug him at the same time.
"So glad you're back!" cried Merry.
"We've all been worried sick! I even lost my appetite!" shouted Pippin
"You must be starvin' Mr. Frodo," Sam rambled on, pushing a cup of tea into Frodo's hands and putting a blanket around his shoulders. "The stew should be ready soon. It's your favourite…"
Gandalf did not take part in this joyful banter although he was also extremely glad that Frodo was back, alarmed but otherwise unhurt. His eyes were fixed on Aragorn and Balian. The last two were making slow and painful progress across the rocky terrain. Balian had tripped and fallen and he seemed to be having trouble getting up. Looking back at the others to see that they did not need him for the moment, he strode towards the struggling pair.
Aragorn was trying —without much success— to help the blacksmith to his feet without further injuring him. When Gandalf reached them, he did not speak to either of them. Instead, he supported the wounded man's other side and their combined efforts finally allowed Balian to get to his feet. All three were relieved when they finally reached the campsite without any major mishaps.
"Sam," said Aragorn "I need hot water." The ranger pulled out bandages and various herbs and salves from his pack and sat down next to Balian. He gently helped the blacksmith to remove the tattered remains of a shirt from his upper body. There was a gasp. Aragorn turned to see Pippin standing behind him with eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"That must hurt," whispered the little hobbit. Balian looked embarrassed and he gave a little smile.
"It looks worse than it feels, little one," said the blacksmith softly.
"I don't believe this nonsense about wounds looking worse than they feel," muttered Aragorn, washing the other man's wounds. "Wounds hurt as bad as they look or I'm a mushroom."
"What's this about a mushroom?" demanded Merry.
"Nothing," replied Pippin. "Strider said that he's a mushroom if Balian's wounds don't hurt."
"I didn't say that it doesn't hurt," said Balian. "I said it looks worse than it feels."
"And I'm a mushroom if that's true," said Aragorn. He began to bind Balian's chest tightly and the blacksmith winced.
"Honestly, Aragorn," said Legolas, coming over. "How would you know how he feels?"
"You know as well as I do how Orc-inflicted wounds feel —Legolas, you're bleeding!"
"I'm fine!" protested the elf. "It looks worse than it feels!"
Everyone burst into laughter, including Balian who ended up groaning because laughing hurt his ribs.
A/N: Sorry about the late update. The computer got totally messed up due to this stupid Trojan virus and my little brother had to spend a few days fixing it up. Thanks to my wonderful reviewers. You guys are absolute best —but you know that already. Reviews keep me inspired and motivated. They're a sort of fuel. The more reviews I get, the faster I update (hint hint)