Wow! Thanks for all the reviews you guys! (snnfl) You like me! You really like me! (bawls)

Zammy - Wow, a double whammy! Sorry about the false updates, I really haven't had much time... But you rawk! You fed the review monster, and now look what you get - A CHAPTER! WAH!
Lysan - Ohh yes, muahahahahaaah... Plenty of situations for our dear characters. Does this count as 'soon'? I'm sorry. I know I suck. I read a bunch of other fics that are in progress right now and I know how AGONIZINGLY painful it is to wait on cliffhangers.
grumpy - Nice name! Yes, not a good time to get captured, God knows what the authoress will do next! (lightening crashes) I'm so glad you liked it, I know I'm no Cassia, Deana, Nili, M.N. Theis or Nightwing6, but I'll try.
shadowfaxgal7 - Hey, you rock too! I read some of your stuff, you are awesome! I'll see if I can review sometime, I reely hate my lack of time on 'Amazingly'? I'm on your updates list?! WOW! I DON'T SUCK! WAHAHA! Ahem.
Joee 1 - Oh, thank you so much. Yes, I hate school... I even have to do summer 'cause of procrastination in homeschooling, but I will keep writing DARN IT! Grrrrrr... Oh, and yes, keep reviewing to keep me motivated... I'll try not to give up on the story but it's hard if you leave it sitting for a while.
galadriel evenstar- Love the name. Thanks! I'm so glad you like it!

ON TO THE SHOW! ...Uh, FIC!

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Chapter Two: Falling Into Shadow

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"Thank you..."

"You're very welcome." Eowyn smiled as the tow-headed girl whispered her gratitude from under her mother's arm. Small, grimy hands fidgeted in the rough fabric of her newly acquired blanket, and her eyes were wide and glassy.

The sense of doom permeating the air was impossible to miss, hushed murmuring and whispers carrying throughout the caves as hundreds of women, children and a few incapacitated men tried to settle into the makeshift refuge up and down the rock hill. Water had been gathered and a fire was going on two of the clear, level spaces of ground. Supplies were packed against the stalagmites poking up from the floor, the mothers and children all finding different spaces to occupy between or on them.

A few women were comforting each other as they cried over their sons, their husbands, their fathers who had been taken to fight in a battle from which they would never return. Eowyn felt deeply for them, for she understood their pain. But she also felt a deep anger and regret that while these peasant women had never been able to join warriors in battle, she, a shield maiden, a woman whose existence was to aid and fight for her lord, also never had the satisfaction of assisting them.

It wasn't fair.

I can fight as well as any of those men. Better than some, she fumed silently. Why can I never help them?But as she looked wistfully upon the darkened faces of her people in the cave, the woman realized that she was indeed helping.

Well, she allowed, Lord Aragorn has asked me to do this, for my people and him. I will aid in any way I can.

The golden haired maiden looked down at a child who was crying his eyes out in his mother's lap, fear keeping him quiet. Her heart softened. As she walked slowly over to the piles of cloth to distribute another blanket, a cry from the hall behind her made Eowyn freeze.

It sounded... horrible. The scream of someone journeying toward the Halls of Mandos.

Adrenaline surged through her. Are the orcs attacking?! It is not yet dusk! The women with children clutched them tightly to themselves, and the men who had been too wounded to fight looked up from their pallets, bodies taut with anticipation. Eowyn grabbed a sword lying close on the path and stalked toward the opening, tension rippling her muscles as she prepared for whatever battle could be coming, her heart pounding in her chest.

Every villager had heard the bone-chilling yell that echoed down the rock, and all were readying themselves in fear. Some of the wounded men were trying to rise, and the women were in the first stages of panic.

"Are they here?!"

"Have they come already?"

"Move the children, quickly-"

"Get the swords! Move the women and children further down-"

A sudden yell stopped all conversation, and the crowds stopped dead. Another scream accompanied by loud moans came rolling across the stone, and it sounded as though someone was being attacked, murdered, or tortured. The Rohirrim guards who had been helping rushed to the entrance to see what was causing such earsplitting noise, but stopped as they were greeted there by a fair-haired elven warrior.

Legolas.

The prince had his arms filled with a bundle of bedding, blankets and a few containers of herbs. His fair face was tight with worry as light blue eyes swept the cave, but he calmed the throng with a few soft words, his gentle tenor timber clear.

"The Uruks have not arrived," he assured them. "Do not be afraid. Please try to rest." The people relaxed marginally at that news; Families tried to return to their original spaces, closer to the entrance, and many eyes fixed on the archer as he stepped onto the path. The tumult died down to soft murmurs.

"My Lord Legolas?" Eowyn lowered her sword. "What has happened? What-" She was cut off as he sprinted toward an empty space he'd glimpsed with his keen eyesight half-way down the hill on level land, his long legs propelling him swiftly and silently around the humans. After reaching the spot he quickly spread a large, thick pallet across the ground. The eight women and children on either side of him watched in confusion and fascination as he worked, never having seen an elf before. He was too absorbed in his task to notice.

Eowyn knelt beside him as he began hastily laying out the other items. "My Lord, what is going on?" she asked sternly.

He looked up at her darkly, the blue eyes tinted with something akin to fear. "I need your help preparing the medicines," he murmured. "He will be here any moment." The elf put two bowls, three bags of herbs and a large pillow at the head of the pallet, followed by a large stack of bandages.

That caught her attention immediately.

"Legolas, what has happened? Who is coming?" Eowyn asked urgently, a slight fear creeping into her heart as he opened a small bottle and poured the liquid into a cloth. The look on the archer's face was scaring her more than anything else. She had never seen him this intense before, or this unsettled. Usually the elf prince stood in silence, an impassive expression on his face as he watched even the most dire events unfold.

But now, she could see it in his eyes.

He was afraid.

Before she could speak again, another loud, grating cry resounded across the cave.

"No!- no- Saes! -Stop!- saes - Ai!"

The screams began anew and Eowyn lifted her head just as Aragorn strode through the cave entrance carrying a bucking, writhing, green-clad figure in his arms. The man had dark almost black-brown hair that flowed smoothly down his shoulders, but it was mussed, covering his face due to his wild thrashing. The woman could see that Aragorn was struggling; he was barely able to restrain the wounded man as he fought to escape his prison, shouting incoherently.

His hands switched rapidly in their movement between wrapping his arms around his middle, fingers digging into the skin and cloth, and clutching fiercely at Aragorn's shirt, holding onto the ranger for dear life, trying to escape the breathtaking pain.

"Elladan-Estel!" he cried desperately. "Ai... Elladan-"

Eowyn could hear the fabric ripping under the strain of the man's hold, and worse were the piteous cries escaping his throat. He is hysterical, she thought. Fingers that were once pristine white became stained with deep red as blood welled from the part of his stomach he was clawing at.

"Aragorn, here!" Legolas called. He ran up to meet them, pulling the man's dark tresses away from his face and motioning them toward the pallet. The guards followed as he walked swiftly down the hill toward where Eowyn knelt. The shield maiden still could not see the stranger's face clearly, but Aragorn was quickly nearing her, trying to walk down the steep incline as fast as possible without stumbling and dropping his burden.

"Please, clear the way," he requested of the people crowding the path, his eyes pleading.

The guards were quick to reinforce their lord's wish. "Move! Everyone, give them some room!" One of the Rohirrim commanded.

"Out of the way! Hurry!"

"Let them through!"

Legolas walked at their side, and he spoke to the dark-haired man in a language Eowyn could not understand. She saw the blond elf reach for one of the stranger's hands and he gripped Legolas' in return, white knuckles shaking with exertion. At a few more words from the prince, the man stopped twisting in the Dunadan's arms and curled into himself, his other arm dug firmly into his abdomen, breathing deeply, the screams lessening into periodic moaning.

Aragorn was walking carefully down the steep hill, trying to go as quickly as this would allow him. Eowyn started to approach them, but as she stood suddenly another convulsion went through the strange man and he shouted again, kicking out his legs in response to the blinding burst of agony. The woman's eyes went wide.

"My Lord!"

The sudden blow caught the archer off guard and he fell backward onto the hard floor, knocking the wind out of him and bowling over one of the guards flanking the two men. Such was the Rohirrim's surprise that they could not manage to see let alone help as the Dunadan slipped on the slick rock and pitched headlong down the steep path, losing his balance from the abrupt lashing out of the man's powerful legs.

The elf looked up to see his friend fall forward into empty air.

"Aragorn!" he screamed.

"No!"

The shield maiden caught a glimpse of the ranger's shocked expression just before he pitched forward and swung his body around, twisting to shield his charge from the impact. Aragorn hit the stone backfirst, curling in around the wounded man and the pair rolled mercilessly downward for a good twenty meters. They showed no signs of slowing, the Dunedan's back making sickening cracking noises each time it connected with the hard rock.

There was screaming from the onlookers. Guards were running after them, but there was no way to stop them, the families below not having any idea what to do except attempt to move out of the path in fear.

"Look out!" Eowyn cried as they barrelled straight toward a large clutch of villagers trapped at the hill's base. Apprehension tightened her throat. There was nowhere left to move between the huge stalagmites caging them, and at the speed they were going the impact would be disastrous.

Aragorn, seeing the danger in a quick flash of vision and knowing what would happen if they didn't stop, braced himself, reached out and grabbed onto one of the large crates as it rushed by, catching hold of the wooden bars. He couldn't restrain himself from crying out in pain as he felt his arm wrench from its socket. The inertia swept them sideways across a scant sprinkling of hay and his back slammed into unforgiving rock as they were jerked out of their spin as suddenly as they'd begun. The Dunadan's skull cracked against stone and his vision went black.

Legolas ran at top speed down the incline to reach his friend's side, Eowyn following behind with her long hair, dress and sleeves fluttering in her wake. Panic seized his heart. The prince knew at that speed and with Elrohir's extra weight, (even as elven and therefore little as it was,) that accident could have been fatal. He quickly knelt down next to the man and checked to see if he was breathing.

"Aragorn," Legolas cried, placing one hand on the ranger's shoulder and the other on his forehead. "Aragorn, are you alright?"

He lay sprawled in the hay with one arm still wrapped around the stranger on his chest, who was curled into as much of a ball as his body permitted. The hand that had snagged the wooden bar was still latched onto it, the knuckles white as bone, refusing to let go. Aragorn's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched in pain and his shoulders still sloping inward to protect his burden, the shock of his impact still coursing through him.

Elrohir gave a slight moan, and some measure of feeling was restored to the Mirkwood elf's body.

At least he still lives.

"Estel," Legolas implored, his blue eyes searching for some sign of coherency, "Estel, Im Legolas. Lasto nin, mellon nin!Estel, it's Legolas. Listen to me, my friend!" The ranger groaned, stirring slightly.

"Estel? Can you hear me?"

"...I can," he murmured. The deep tone was barely audible. Dark lashes and pale lids parted to reveal silver-blue eyes clouded with pain, and he looked up into Legolas' relieved face. The Dunadan moved sluggishly to sit upright, but fell back again with a loud gasp, his vision flashing with white as his arm protested sharply. His shoulder and collar bone were on fire.

"Easy! Sidh, mellon nin. Peace, my friend," Legolas instructed him gently. His eyes were piercing in their intensity. "Can you release him?"

Aragorn complied, removing his arm carefully, and the prince bore the injured elf away to one of the Rohirrim sentinels, ordering him to be taken back up the hill to the bedding that had been set up. At that statement the ranger abruptly grabbed Legolas' wrist.

"No," he shook his head, "it's too far. Don't want to risk it again." Legolas nodded and looked at Eowyn, who rose to retrieve them a few steps away.

"Is he alright?" Aragorn inquired, pale face creased with worry.

The prince smiled down at him. "He's as good as he was before you took your little trip."

The ranger grinned darkly, releasing his friend's wrist and swatting half-heartedly at his shoulder before grimacing. "I cannot let go," he told him painfully. "My... arm refuses to move-"

Legolas frowned, eyes drawn to the white, taut fingers still clutching the smooth wood that had stopped their fall. He leaned forward and gently prodded the Dunadan's shoulder, receiving a sharp, pained groan in response.

"It's dislocated," he sighed. Legolas gazed at his friend steadily, waiting for his approval. Aragorn nodded, his eyes saying clearly that he knew what had to be done, and he was ready. The trust between them ran deep, and it was not the first time he had needed such aid.

A group of Rohirrim children watched with wide eyes as the elven prince reached across the ranger's prone form, his knee holding him in place at the chest. With his hands he held the base of the arm just below where it connected with the shoulder and glanced over at his friend. A swift nod was all he got before Legolas pulled swiftly upward and snapped the bone back into place.

The action reverberated through Aragorn to his teeth and he couldn't suppress a loud gasp. The Dunadan's jaw locked and his body jerked involuntarily, his hand releasing the bar, and the convulsion raising him into a sitting position. The white that had flashed over his vision blinded him and a moment later he collapsed forward, reeling from the pain. Legolas moved quickly, catching the human in his arms and supporting him against his chest. The Dunadan breathing was heavy as he collected himself and blinked away the grey fog covering his eyes.

After a few moments of catching his breath he leaned away, shakily holding his upper arm as he sat up. "Thank you," he said dryly, a measure of discomfort finding its way into the ranger's tone. Legolas helped him to his feet and he turned away, walking unsteadily over to where his brother lay, trying to deal with the waves of pain rolling down his arm. He hissed as his back abruptly protested from the abuse it had received during the 'trip' down the hill.

Legolas caught his arm and helped him over the rest of the way. "You are welcome," he grinned.

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Eowyn had rushed back from the upper level of the stone hill with the supplies that Legolas left, hurrying toward the flat base of the incline where she could lay the bedding. It didn't take long to reset everything back the way the elf had put it, but she had to walk much slower due to the liquid in the bowls. The lack of speed irritated her due to the gravity of the situation, but she took her time. With what was coming later she knew medicines and healing herbs would be precious.

Setting both containers back down, the shield maiden called for the injured man's newly-appointed guard. "Place him here," she told him, watching carefully and lifting the man's head as he was lowered onto the pallet.

A few seconds earlier he had gone limp with exhaustion, and now as she set him out across the bedding she could see he was really quite attractive. The pale features were finely chiselled, yet somehow very delicate with a quiet strength. That strength would hopefully become useful in his recovery. Eowyn moved the strands of hair from his face and suddenly caught sight of something poking up from beneath his dark locks. The tip of a pointed ear.

Her eyes widened slightly. He was an elf! She looked back down at the face in shock.

One of the Firstborn... like the archer.

"Elrohir," came a voice from behind her.

Eowyn looked up, relieved to see Aragorn, followed closely by Legolas (and not looking too happy about it either), his gaze locked on the dark-haired elf, bright with anxiety. He moved slowly, as though it pained him to do so, and well it might as his back had been completely beaten by their roll down the solid rock. Carefully he knelt next to the elf, willing the pain away and placing a hand on his forehead.

"Elrohir, can you hear me?" he asked in elvish.

The twin moved slightly on the pallet. "Elladan," he moaned. "Estel, they have him... They have Elladan..." Elrohir convulsed, then sagged back against the pillow. "Ai..."

"My lord, what ails him?" Eowyn questioned. "How did he receive that wound?"

"Orcs," he said brusquely. "He was wounded on the journey to the Deep." Aragorn crushed some dried leaves into the smaller bowl that contained water and mixed it with a finger, Legolas opening the dark-haired elf's tunic to better reach the wound. Upon reaching it, he drew back with a sharp intake of breath.

"Ai, Elbereth. Aragorn..."

The ranger looked up and any words he might have spoken died in his throat.

The gash was enormous.

Blood was sliding down the sides of Elrohir's torso, soaking the thick fabric and painting his hands crimson, and Aragorn was surprised he hadn't passed out already from the pain. The wound was made uncleanly by a blade, probably a scimitar, as the Dunadan could see the jagged shape that formed the cut. It must have been at least three or four inches deep and almost six inches long.

The ranger had seen orc-inflicted injuries before, and he knew that a lot of the time the foul creatures used poison-dipped weapons to ensure victory. Most people wouldn't survive a wound like this for more than a few hours.

We must deal with this quickly.

"Legolas, hand me the cloths," he ordered, "and ready the bandages. I'll need the athelas."

The prince nodded and reached for the white swatches of cloth at Elrohir's head, securing the Noldor elf's hand within his own as his fingers searched the ground for release. His breathing was labored; he seemed to be struggling for air and his brow was drenched, eyes squeezed shut. Eowyn watched as they tended the elf's wound, praying for Aragorn and Legolas' sakes that the man would make it. But her experience was telling her otherwise as well.

"Elrohir?" Aragorn's soft voice shook her from her musings and shocked her with something she'd never expected to hear.

"Brother, if you can hear me, I need you to answer."

Brother?Her mouth opened, but she stopped at a glance from Legolas, his eyes clearly saying there would be an explanation later. The elf on the pallet moaned again, drawing their gaze and raising a hand to touch the ranger's.

"Estel?" he asked weakly.

"Yes, gwador-nin, I'm here. I need your help," he told him seriously, squeezing the slender fingers in his own. "Can you speak with Elladan for me? I need to ask him something." The ranger figured that if Elrohir was awake, then so was the other twin. Perhaps he could tell him if he smelled or felt any toxins in his system. Being the son of Elrond gave you a head start on the healing arts in itself, and the two brothers had definitely been in enough skirmishes with orcs to know.

"Elladan," Elrohir repeated blearily.

For the first time the elf's eyes opened, and Eowyn was mesmerized by the sparkling green-blue gems of the Noldor's eyes and his gentle, masculine voice, although strained with rapid breathing. He tilted his head up slightly to meet his younger brother's gaze. Aragorn put a hand behind his head to support him as he tried to speak.

"I can... feel him... He- he's so tired... I can do naught to-" Elrohir shuddered, and the ranger gently lowered his head back to the pillow. The elf's breathing was coming slower now, but no less heavy.

"I need you to ask him if the blade that caused this wound was poisoned," Aragorn said seriously.

The twin moaned again and breathed as deep as he was able, trying to relax and hear his brother's thoughts. He felt Elladan's fear and the scimitar as though it were still embedded in his flesh. Those sensations in themselves were doing a marvelous job of clouding his perception. "Elladan... Elladan?"

El... Elrohir... They've followed me... I got out, but they... too quick- Elrohir felt his brother wince, a sigh escaping him. The blade broke in the wound... I- can't- I can't remove it-

"AHH!" The dark-haired elf screamed with his twin as he felt something hard and unyielding inside his stomach move in the torn flesh. "Daro- Stop- Elladan!" he gasped. Aragorn leaped forward and took Elrohir's hands to steady him as he lashed out kicking, struggling in agony. The prodding stopped almost immediately and he fell back to the floor, raggedly gulping oxygen.

AI- Well, that... did not help, he heard Elladan mutter. Elrohir felt his brother flop down onto the cool stone floor.

"I concur," Elrohir muttered back, grimacing at the seizing in his abdomen. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances. Abruptly the Noldor remembered what he had been trying to ask, and he focused himself as much as the burning pain would allow. "Elladan... Estel... he wants to know if we've been poisoned."

I cannot say... everything is clouded...

"Well that... in itself might be an... indication, don't you think?"

This hurts, all right? You... always get so grumpy when you're injured.

The dark-haired elf glared at the ceiling. "But I'mnot the one injured!"

If the situation had been less dire, Aragorn would have put his face in his hands. They were arguing. Wonderful. Eowyn was giving Elrohir a look that clearly suggested she thought he had lost his mind. Not injured, after all that? What in Arda was he talking about? She decided he must be delirious.

Oh, right... Eru, you're testy, gwanur.

"No I'm not..." Elrohir paused, listening. Then he growled. "Elladan..."

Aragorn looked blankly at the elf prince.

Legolas smirked slightly, looking back down at his friend's pale, soaked face. Aragorn was on his brother's right side while the prince knelt at his left, and each of them had one of the elf's hands in their own.

"Perhaps we should just let them go at it for a little while. T'will help take their minds off the pain," he whispered. They waited quietly and contentedly through the twins bickering as Elrohir's words echoed throughout the cave, which was actually quite amusing for some of the humans as well, due to the one-sided conversation: "That was not my fault! I was not the one who suggested the spiders!"

After a few minutes the talking turned serious, and the Noldor elf poked and prodded his twin with questions Aragorn supplied, each one more strange than the last. Finally Elrohir stopped, too tired to carry on any more.

"We... don't know, Estel," Elrohir murmured, looking up at him with tired eyes, his face bright with perspiration. "We can't see properly and... the cave; it's an orc hole... everything smells."

Aragorn sighed deeply. "I don't want to say this, Elrohir, but if you two are poisoned, we will know soon. I'll need you to stay awake for me."

Elrohir sighed even more deeply. "I... thought as much."

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The evil authoress strikes again. I know the ending part was really out-of-character, but I'll try to stay serious for the majority of the time. Tell me if this sucked or not. 'Ta! Next time on: When Orcs Attack! (Sorry, yes, corny, had to do it)

Chapter 3: Elladan in the Orc holes! And hmm... poison? Maybe.
Review and get moooo-oooore... I love blackmail.