Legolas's POV

"Eda, no, please stay with me," I muttered, lifting the hem of her shirt up to reveal the wound. The orckish arrow had gone directly between two ribs, penetrating too deep.

Boromir, on his knees, gave a quiet sob as Gimli pulled the arrow out of his arm. We'd found the man kneeling beside Eda, crying like a child, with a massive bloody knot on his head. The orcs had, apparently, left them both for dead.

The halflings were nowhere to be seen.

"We can't take that out," Aragorn muttered, nodding at the arrow in Eda's side. "We would have to pry her ribs apart and cut it out, and the bleeding would never stop. Not on the road."

"In a boat, perhaps?" I insisted. "We must take her back to Lothlòrien. She needs Elvish medicine."

Aragorn gave a hard shake of his head. "And fight the Anduin the entire way? You'd make better time crawling."

"Then we rest here," I argued. "There are buildings, and we have supplies. There is wood here, and water. We could rest until she is well enough to travel."

Aragorn met my gaze, waiting for me to come to my senses. And he was right. This was no place to stay. The people that had once lived here had left the scent of evil behind, never to be erased. Even Eda had sensed it.

My gaze dropped to her wound. Some blood was seeping from where the arrowhead had cut it, but the wooden shaft blocked most of the blood flow. "What do we do?"

Aragorn sighed. "Her only chance is Rohan." His tone left little hope.

I gritted my teeth, but he was right. Again. Rohan's boarder was over a day's walk from Amon Hen, and it would be another day at least before we reached any kind of settlement. But that was the closest.

"Then let us start," I answered finally.

Aragorn clasped my shoulder tightly. "Gimli and I will gather supplies. Stay with Eda and Boromir."

I nodded silently, then Aragorn stood and jogged back to the beach.

Boromir came over and knelt at Eda's head. With his uninjured hand, he touched Eda's hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Eda...Eda, I'm so sorry..." He sobbed, and stringy discharge began to drip from his nose.

"Do not let your filth touch her," I said, my tone cold.

Boromir gave a sharp inhale, then wiped away the undignified moisture. He looked up and met my gaze, his red eyes betraying the rawness of his soul. "I have failed," he whispered brokenly. "I failed to protect Frodo from evil, but instead became the evil from which he needed protection. I failed to protect the halflings, instead jeapardizing an innocent girl's safety, which will probably result in her de—"

"Have you any socks?" I interrupted, not looking at the Man.

"I...yes, why?"

My nostrils flared, but that was the only outward indication of anger I allowed myself. In a calm tone, I answered, "Insert both into your mouth, and remove them only to take sustainence."

Boromir gazed at me for a long moment, and a leftover tear fell. Then he reached for his shoes.

"For Eru's sake," I snapped, "I only meant for you to shut up."

From the beach came Aragorn's call. "Ai, Legolas! Come here!"

I stood and glanced at Boromir. "If you touch her," I growled, "I will cut off your hands and feed them to the wargs."

Boromir backed away from Eda, and giving him a single nod of approval, I ran after Aragorn. What could be so important that he ask me to leave Eda's side?

When I reached Aragorn, who stood on the beach with a pile of supplies and weapons taken from the packs, I noticed a boat on the opposite shore, and two small figures moving into the woods opposite us. Frodo and Samwise were continuing alone, then. It was for the better.

Aragorn extended toward me a small box inlaid with silver.

I glared at him, unimpressed and actually rather angry. "A jewelry box?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes and shoved it into my hand. "No. Etholas." My eyes widened, and handing me some bandages, he added, "Give Boromir some, as well."

Naturally. I turned and ran back to Eda. Boromir was seated a safe distance away from her, still crying. Good Eru, mortals were weepy. I opened the box and withdrew a couple of stems, then handed them to Boromir. He took them slowly, as though unsure if I were handing him a cure or a poison.

Without a word between us, I took another stem and shoved it in my mouth, quickly chewing it up and using my saliva to create a paste. Then I spat it out and began spreading it over Eda's wound, gently pushing more in around the arrow. Then I quickly bandaged the wound.

Boromir reluctantly followed my example, then spread his own mixture into the wound on his arm, and onto his head.

Long, silent minutes passed. Eru, how long could it take a Man and a Dwarf to collect a few supplies? But finally, they came back, carrying four packs and a makeshift stretcher, fashioned from two long, sturdy sticks and Aragorn's cloak.

"Good idea, Aragorn," I said, wasting no time in picking Eda up and placing her on the cloak. It would take two people to carry her, but she would be laying flat, and jostled less. I took the position at the back, by her head.

"Actually, it was Gimli's idea," Aragorn replied.

Just my luck. Reluctantly, I turned and nodded at Gimli. "My compliments, Dwarf."

Gimli said nothing, just nodded his thanks quietly.

Aragorn handed me my portion of supplies, and I slung them onto my shoulder. Then Aragorn took the other end of the stretcher, and together we lifted Eda and placed the ends of the poles on our shoulders.

Then the four of us started running.

* * *

We ran long into the night, only stopping a few hours before dawn, when Boromir collapsed. Gimli reluctantly conceded that a bit of sleep might be in Eda's best interest. And as much as I wanted to go through the night and push ourselves all the way to Rohan, Aragorn agreed with Gimli. So while they built a small fire, I checked Eda's wound.

It had bled very little in the past few hours, and the Etholas was keeping infection at bay. But Eda had been developing a fever, and her skin had broken out into a clammy sweat. Pushing the excess worry out of my mind, I chewed up some new Etholas leaves and applied them to Eda's side, then rebandaged the wound.

Aragorn offered me a piece of lembas bread, which I accepted silently. Taking a small bite, I gazed at Eda. Her eyelashes fluttered, and creases appeared in her brow, her expression growing pained. Then she relaxed again with a soft sigh, slipping into a deeper realm of blissful rest.

"How is she, laddie?" Gimli asked, his gruff voice filled with concern.

Dying. I glanced at Boromir, who had sat up and was sulking by himself. He met my glance, his eyes reflecting a haunted light. Finally, I answered, "Her rest is troubled."

Gimli gazed at Eda, his eyes full of kindness. "Perhaps ye should sing to her?"

I frowned, looking into the fire. There were many accomplished voices in Mirkwood, and while I was fair at it, I had never been able to compete. It was easier to simply avoid the practice altogether. "I believe Aragorn has a love for singing," I replied. "Perhaps he would entertain us."

Aragorn caught my gaze, a knowing smile on his lips, albeit weary. "If that is what my companions desire," he replied.

"Ah, yes!" Gimli replied, and Boromir gave a halfhearted nod.

I shrugged. "It would seem you have little choice, now."

Aragorn gave a soft chuckle, then raised his eyes to the heavens. He gave a low hum, altering his pitch until he found the note he was listening for. Then he began to sing.

"When I look, I see

Darkness descending.

The mortals, they cower,

The Eldar, they seek:

A reason, a future,

A pathway of hope.

Darkness settles over Arda,

Nothing stands in its way.

Light the candles, light the beacons,

Give a flame to your torch.

In the darkness, mortals scream out,

'We will cower nevermore.'"

I closed my eyes, listening to the last note echo over the plain. Aragorn's voice was a testimony to the Numenorian blood running strong in his veins, and it never ceased to amaze me how well he handled his melody.

"Hmm." Gimli nodded thoughtfully. Looking to me, he said, "I should like to hear you sing, Master Elf."

I eyed the Dwarf, unsure if he meant that as an insult, or if he was merely making a comment. I couldn't tell. "I don't sing," I answered finally.

Eda stirred, shivering a little, and Gimli chuckled. "It would seems she wants ye to, laddie."

Eda's expression contorted to one of agony, and she cried out, trying to struggle in her half-conscious state.

"Shh, don't move, you'll hurt yourself more," I murmured, pinning her arms down. After a moment, Eda stopped trying to move, but her face was still pained, and she trembled visibly.

"Gimli's right," Aragorn piped up. "Your voice may help her settle."

I gave a nod of acknowledgement, first removing my cloak and laying it over her. As I tucked the edges in around her, I began singing the first song that came to mind. A song that, hundreds of years ago, my mother sang to me.

"May it be an evening star shines down on you.

May it be when darkness falls, your heart will be true.

You walk a lonely road, oh how far you are from home...

Mornie utulie;

Believe, and you will find your way.

Mornie alantie;

A promise lives within you now.

"May it be the shadow's call will fly away.

May it be you journey on to light the day.

When the night is overcome, you may rise to find the sun...

Mornie utulie;

Believe, and you will find your way.

Mornie alantie;

A promise lives within you now.

A promise lives within you now."

Silence fell over the camp, and even Eda slept peacefully now. Then a loud, wet inhale through the nose broke the reverie. I glanced at Gimli, who was hastily scrubbing tears out of his eyes and beard. "That's...that's right fine singing, laddie."

I took a shaky breath, suddenly having to hold back my own tears. The last time I'd heard that song outside of my own memories, I had been a mere Elfling—too young and idealistic to understand its true meaning.

Gimli cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose it's my turn now. Listen up close, it's a fast mover, it is!"

I started to politely refuse his offer, but his orckly singing voice interrupted me.

"There once was a Dwarf,

And he lived in a hole,

And he wanted a wife and sons.

So he asked for her hand,

And she said that she would,

And she asked what should she wear?

And he said,

Mithril and diamonds,

And emeralds and rubies

But leave home yer silk and yer lace!"

I blinked.

Aragorn coughed, covering his mouth to mask a snicker. Even Boromir was shaking his head, a mildly amused smirk in his expression. Gimli gave a satisfied nod, then looked to me as though expecting feedback.

"Erm..." I frowned. "That was, uh, nice. Thank you."

"I could do another, if ye would like me to," Gimli offered.

"No!" Aragorn, Boromir and I exclaimed at once.

I cleared my throat. "No, thank you. I think what we all need is some sleep now."

Gimli shrugged, then lay down. Boromir followed suit, and I looked to Aragorn. "Sleep," I told him. "I will keep watch."

He nodded his thanks, unrolling his bed. Smirking, he muttered in a tone only I could hear, "Remember to check the surroundings once and awhile, as well."

I shot him a halfhearted glare, and chuckling, he lay down and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before all three of them were snoring.