Ithilhen woke with a start, immediately thrashing against the hands that held his shoulders down, eyes squeezed shut as he cursed in Elvish. The hands were joined by more, grabbing at his flailing limbs.

"Leithio nin!1" he screamed. "Daro! Edraith enni, amin uuma merna ta...2" The elf's struggles died down as his wrists were crossed and held to his chest and ankles forced to the ground. He babbled quietly, "Tanya awra 3" and "reitho 4" distinguishable words throughout.

Ithilhen's own voice drowned out the noise around him. He didn't want to see or hear, and wished he didn't have to feel - though he couldn't tell what the hands on him were doing. His joints ached, his spine was stiff, and it felt like his hips had a load of pressure on them. Just as he began to think about his numb leg, a loud pop shot up from his hip, startling the elf into silence through a violent lurch. He heard a deep voice near his side and another by his hip, though they sounded muddled from the swimming in his head.

Ithilhen took a moment to breath, shivering as he did. The strain on his waist had lessened with the pop. The hands still held him firmly, but not cruelly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking another shaky breath. Slowly he took note of his battered body, from head to toe. His face was cold and clammy, shoulders digging in to a rock beneath them... His chest felt bound, raising and falling uneasily. Hands were very still beneath the stranger's, though his wrists felt bruised and scratched. His back was blessedly numb and also felt bound - in fact his entire torso was tightly wrapped. His hips dared not move, legs slowly regaining feeling and twitching sporadically. His toes were tightly curled in his boots. As his personal check finished, he felt a shift at his side, another body beside him. Ithilhen had to resist the urge to open his eyes as a voice spoke to him.

"Lasto nin. Listen to me. I eneth nîn Legolas. My name is Legolas." The Elvish words were almost comforting to hear. "Av-'osto. Don't be afraid. Davo eithad anech... Let me help you."

Ithilhen turned his head slightly to face the voice. He opened his mouth to respond, hesitating for a long moment. "...Im Ithilhen estar. They call me Ithilhen." He said in a hushed and broken voice. There was silence for a moment before his moon-eyes cracked open, peeking into the emerald gaze that stared down at him. He blinked at the sunlight as his sight adjusted. The blonde haired elf knelt beside him, carefully watching him.

Ithilhen tensed and turned his head to look at the man holding his wrists down, piercing stare glaring into blue. He looked down and around quickly, spying a dwarf at his feet and a man at his side opposite the elf. His body went rigid and his heart beat thundered in his chest.

The man above him and the dwarf visibly tensed, but the dark haired man put up a hand. "Uuma dela. Don't worry." he said calmly. "Lle ume. You did well."

Ithilhen stared at the man for a long moment as tears stung at his eyes. His muscles slowly relaxed with a shaking breath. The man motioned for the dwarf and the other man to release their holds. The elf lay still as the hands left him, too sore to move.

"You are among friends." Legolas spoke. "We mean you no harm."

"We were trying to tend to your wounds when the pressure from resetting your hip must have awoken you." Aragorn explained, shifting away somewhat. Gimli and Boromir stepped back a short way, still watching closely.

"Pippin told us how a bird led him to find you." Boromir chimed in. "In the ice, before those bandits attacked."

Ithilhen tried to hide his flinch at the mention of those men. He nodded. "Yara, my raven." He replied softly. His eyes scanned the area, saddened by the lack of his feathery companion.

"And he told us you took a beating to help him." Gimli said. "A pretty nasty one by the looks of it."

Ithilhen nodded again. He stared hard at a cloud that drifted overhead, brow furrowed and lips pursed tight. He swallowed stiffly. The silence was palpable.

Ithilhen turned his head towards Legolas again. "How does the Hobbit fare?" He asked awkwardly. The other elf smiled. "He is shaken, but unharmed. He will be fine."

He returned his eyes to the cloud. It took but a moment for his eyes to shut without his permission, heavy sleep taking away his thoughts.

Ithilhen woke an hour later to a weight on his arm. He sat bolt upright, nearly knocking the two close Hobbits over from the shock.

Merry and Pippin had been watching, waiting for any sign of consciousness from the dead asleep elf. Sam and Frodo sat close by, but didn't wish to crowd. His features had been relaxed, though his body had stayed rigid, barely moving. His breath had returned to normal, his injuries healing with that speedy recovery of elves.

Though his back protested from the sudden movement, and he hissed out a curse before spotting his friend.

"Pippin, cormamin lindua ele lle!" He exclaimed through a hoarse voice. At the confused look, he spoke again. "My heart sings to see you well, my little Hobbit friend." The elf smiled wide. Frodo and Sam chuckled at Pippin embarrassed response.

Merry, who sat beside Pippin, raised a brow. For such a short time, the two seemed quite friendly. Though it was understandable, given the circumstances…

...

On the other side of the camp, Gandalf was speaking with the rest of his company.

"I thought only wizards did magic." Gimli exclaimed, earning a shake of Gandalf's bearded head.

"There are many magical creatures in this world, including wizards. Yes, it seems our young Pippin's friend is a Druid of sorts. Or an elemental, as some would say."

Boromir pushed away from his perch against a tree. "What makes you so sure of that?" He asked. "We've only known of him a few hours, most of which he's been unconscious."

Gandalf eyed the man and Gimli spoke, exasperated. "Already forgot that blast? Nearly knocked my head off!" He shot a glower over his shoulder at the elf that was now speaking with the Hobbits.

"Among other things." Gandalf added. "The raven familiar Pippin recalled, the 'strange cuffs' that kept them." He cleared his throat. "The gem in his bag." He mumbled. Aragorn chuckled at the old wizard, guilty of rummaging through bags. Gandalf smiled back at him, before continuing. "A gem that draws the power of the natural world. Druids are magicians of nature and the life around them. They mostly practice white magic, though we may still be cautious."

Gimli huffed. "Well I don't like him." He folded his arms crossly. Legolas laughed quietly. "What are you laughing about?" Gimli demanded, the elf shaking his head. "Nothing, master dwarf." He kept grinning, though, quickly getting on the dwarf's nerves.

Before Gimli threw a fit, the small group shifted to join the others.

Ithilhen had propped himself against a log and was telling the curious Halflings about some adventure of yesteryear. He seemed to time his tale just right for the new arrivals. "…and you could hear his iron shoes dragging across the stone floors. Those fiery eyes were just a few feet away, and the light of my flames glinted off his mouthful of teeth… I could almost taste the blood in the air, when suddenly…" He trailed off when his eyes landed on the men, elf, and dwarf that stood nearby. Sam, who had been tensely perched beside Frodo, looked flabbergasted. "Well what happened?" asked the Hobbit, glancing over at the others that had joined them. "You can't just leave a story like that!"

"Yeah!" Pippin exclaimed. "Did that goblin thing get you?"

The group gave him an odd look, letting his question sink in for a moment. "Err... That is..." he mumbled, trying to correct himself.

Gandalf stepped in, tapping his staff to get their attention. "Alright, little Hobbits, leave it be. I've things to discuss with the storyteller..." The Halflings looked disappointed, and Boromir spoke up. "Come, we can practice sparring again." He led them away to give the others a chance to speak, and Ithilhen immediately became guarded at their absence. He eyed the wizard, the man, the elf, and the dwarf that stood before him. Feeling small sitting down, he pushed himself to stand with them - though now he was only the second shortest, even as he tried to straighten his back and appear more able. Though it hurt, he stood quietly, arms folded across his chest.

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances, and Gimli tried to appear bigger as well, puffing up his chest. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight to rest on his staff. "So you are clearly a mage of some skill."

Ithilhen blinked, pale eyes glancing between the four.

"Even a young mage has power to defend themselves." Gandalf said, eyeing the increasingly nervous elf. "How was it that a group of imprudent bandits were able to keep a Druid?"

Ithilhen's gaze dropped for a moment, glancing at the ground. "It's... They didn't overpower me or anything of the sort..." He looked back up. "In fact they were quite easy to get away from if they slipped up. But there were these... Runes, symbols branded in to leather and metal. The energy of the earth was cut by these strange bindings... It rendered me basically powerless when they were around my wrists and neck." He struggled to explain himself, fiddling with the slowly healing marks on his wrists. "I... Was fool enough to wander near a trap - I'm a wanderer, you see - and was knocked unconscious. When I awoke, I was bound." He paused, glancing around again and shifting his weight off his aching hip. "I don't recall how many days ago that was. I escaped twice, but somehow was found each time..." The elf looked rather defeated and guilty. "When Pippin found me was the third escape."

They listened curiously, wondering how bandits with such a thing to keep a mage were so easily defeated in their final escape. After pulling Pippin and Ithilhen from the camp, they were pursued by the bandits, up in arms. The men were hot on their heels, and overtook them within a few minutes of the chase. However they were easily slain, taken down by the blades of Aragorn and Boromir. The rest fled as their companions began to fall.

Ithilhen rubbed his arms nervously as Gandalf stared at him. "When Pippin told us his account of events, he was leaving something out. Would you know what it could be?" His voice was on the border between caring and intimidating, and Ithilhen knew that this Wizard was well aware of what was left out. The moon-eyed elf swallowed hard, glancing away and rubbing his arms nervously. He was terrible at trying to hide the truth. And poor Pippin had tried to protect his dignity. Ithilhen kept his eyes down, but felt the four intense stares on him, finally prying his eyes away from the rock by his feet.

Gandalf's wise eyes were sad and knowing, staring in to the pale and broken eyes of the elf. The old wizard's wrinkled face was soft with sympathy. Ithilhen immediately choked on his tears and covered his eyes, curling in on himself and sitting down hard. His shoulders shook with rattling sobs, vivid memories of the last day assaulting his mind. He felt ugly to his core, violated and horrible, like his very essence had been touched by his body's horror. Pressure on his eyes didn't make the memories go away, just pounded them in with more pain. He couldn't speak now, but tried anyway, producing a mess of languages. He wanted to explain away what happened, shove it back with words that were failing him. Finally breaking down was chaos, but each new tear and sob that left him took a bit of pain with it. Not enough... But the pain would leave. With time.

Ithilhen didn't know how long he cried, but the delirium in his head finally broke with a calming feeling melting through. His mind turned back out to the world, a pressure on his forehead drawing his attention. Fingers, old yet strong. Slowly easing the storm in his mind.

Though now he could feel the throbbing in his skull, aching from the strain of crying.

Calmly, he took note of lean arms wrapped around his shoulders, a large hand holding his own, and a small hand holding the other. He could hear humming... Singing? The words weren't clear to him. His eyes opened, still dripping tears that he tried to blink away. The world was blurry.

The fingers in his forehead pulled away before something wiped across his wet face, clearing his eyes a little. With a reluctant sniffle, he peered around.

The first face Ithilhen's eyes met was Gandalf's, stooped directly in front of him, his eyes cool and kind. Then he spotted the dwarf by his side- holding his hand between his own with a nervous look, though he kept glancing at Legolas, who was perched behind Ithilhen. The taller elf was holding him so he sat carefully leaned against him, gently kneading his shoulders. And finally he recognized Pippin's anxious face, latched to his other hand and humming nervously. Ithilhen recognized the song from... Before. His eyes teared up again and he laughed through a sob, mouth turning up at the corners. Exhausted, his eyes squinted and flickered shut, his head landing in Legolas' shoulder.

Pippin looked shocked, turning to Gandalf, who put up his hand. "Sleeping." He said softly. "As you should be." The day had passed quickly, and night was falling. The traumatized elf had been inconsolable for a good few hours before subsiding.

"It was a terrible thing." Gandalf said sadly. "And was neither of your faults. There are bad people in this world... But there are also good. And the good are what one needs in times like this." The wizard put a hand in Pippin's shoulder, giving him a nod and a smile. Pippin returned the smile weakly, returning his eyes to his quiet companion.

Gimli let out a huff of air, letting go of Ithilhen's hand. "Grabbed my hand..." He grumbled. "...Crazy elves..." He looked away, embarrassed, as Legolas smiled at him. Carefully he moved, placing the smaller elf back on the ground. He stood and stretched, lanky limbs popping as he did. He reached out a hand to Gimli, who took it without thinking.

The rest of the group had watched from outside the small circle. Suddenly, Pippin's stomach growled, and everyone looked at each other. "Well, it's just about supper time, isn't it?" Boromir asked with a grin at his Hobbit friends, who nodded back after a worried look at the now sleeping elf. It would be best not to wake him now...

But they didn't need to be reminded that their own journey was still underway. They could spend no more time after this night before continuing up the mountain pass.

1 - Leithio nin! = Release me!

2 – Daro! Edraith enni, amin uuma merna ta… = Stop! Save me, I don't want it…

3 – Tanya awra… = That/it hurt…

4- Reitho… = Help…