Though each breath brought pain ripping through his chest, Legolas moved forward as adrenaline coursed throughout his body which gave him the strength to stand. Gandalf was moving quickly, eager to leave this place and Legolas was close behind him. The rest of the Fellowship trailed behind the two and they couldn't help noticing the trail of blood on the floor.
"Will he be alright?" Boromir asked, his eyes kept on darting to the crimson splatters.
"I don't know," Aragorn replied, "He has this nasty habit of hiding his injuries so I can't be sure how severe his condition is. He walked past me before I could get a good look."
"Why would he hide his injuries?" Pippin asked, "Isn't it better to have them looked at so that he can get better?"
"He doesn't like it when we worry about him," Aragorn explained.
Frodo was silent as guilt built up inside his chest. The more blood of the elf he saw, the wearier he felt. Nothing he could say or do would be enough to repay Legolas.
"Hurry up!" Legolas called back. He and Gandalf were picking up the pace.
They were nearing the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. The seven members of the Fellowship ran for their lives with Aragorn and Gimli at the rear. They managed to catch up with Gandalf and Legolas and were just about to reach the edge of the bridge when a roar erupted from behind.
"What was that?" Sam asked.
"Everyone get back!" Gandalf commanded as a large form emerged from the shadows, a Balrog with its flaming sword and cracking whip, "You shall not pass!" he commanded.
The wizard brandished his staff and sword together, "You shall not pass!" he cried, and with a mighty spell, he broke the bridge and the Balrog fell down deep into the cavern. As it fell though, it cracked its whip and snagged Gandalf's ankles, pulling him over the edge.
Barely managing to hold on, he locked eyes with the Fellowship, "Fly you fools!" he commanded, and disappeared into the cavern below.
"NO! No Gandalf!" Frodo cried, but Aragorn stopped him from running to the edge.
"We must go!" he yelled.
The remaining members of the Fellowship quickly sprinted through the Great Gates of Moria and managed to stumble a mile away until they collapsed in grief. Legolas still stood though he was as pale as a ghost. His blood still gushed through his fingers and he estimated that he'd lost almost half of it from the running. His life was slowly draining away.
He moved away from the others, not wanting them to fuss over him and he did his best to stem the flow of the crimson liquid by ripping off part of his sleeve and balling it up, pressing it to the wound. He hissed as pain erupted from the contact and he fell to his knees, unable to stay standing any longer.
The adrenaline was starting to wear off and the pain increased in his chest, spreading to the rest of his body until it hurt to move. Finally he admitted defeat and collapsed onto his side with a painful whimper.
At the sound of his distress, Aragorn turned and his eyes widened at the sight of his friend, "Legolas!" he called sprinting towards him, but got no answer.
"Legolas!" he cried, falling to his knees beside his friend, "Legolas can you hear me?"
There still was no answer, but he saw the quick, uneven rise and fall of his chest and his eyes were wide open.
"Legolas, mellon-nin can you hear me?" he asked again, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.
Legolas started at the contact and moaned in pain from his sudden movement, closing his eyes tightly he rolled onto his back. He managed to open one and saw Aragorn's worried face looking down at him.
"H-Hello Aragorn," he struggled to say, yet he said it in a way like there was nothing wrong, as if he was just greeting him.
"Don't speak, you should have let me tend to this before," Aragorn said miserably.
"Just leave me then," Legolas whispered, "I will only... slow you all down."
"Never! I could never do that Legolas!"
At this point the rest of the Fellowship had made its way over, observing from a respectable distance so as not to make the elf uncomfortable.
"You stubborn elf, let him help you already," Gimli grumbled.
"I fear... this might be...beyond healing..." Legolas breathed.
He tensed as an agonizing wave of pain took hold of him and he let out a quiet scream as that was all he could muster. When it passed he was shivering and a small cough tainted his lips red with blood. By now there was a pool of it surrounding him and the wad of cloth he had used earlier was completely soaked.
"Legolas I must treat you now, you can make this easy or extremely difficult," Aragorn said sternly, "Someone start a fire and boil some water," he instructed and the others got to work.
Legolas laid a hand over his wound and stared up at the sky with his eyes half closed and observed the clouds sail by sluggishly. Exhaustion was creeping into his mind as the edges of his vision dimmed. Eventually he succumbed to the welcoming darkness.
