Gilron groaned and tried to roll over, unsuccessfully.

Faeldring and Legolas eased him onto the ground, careful not to catch the long shaft of the arrow on the saddlebags of the horse.

"What happened?" Maldor asked, rummaging through one of his bags with hurried efficiency.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and looked behind him before answering.

"It seemed to be some sort of goblin exile." he said, tearing up strips of linen. "Will you start a fire?"

I nodded. 

"How do you know?" I asked, making a circle of lichen encrusted rocks and piling the interior with thin, wispy grasses.

Legolas glanced at me distractedly. "At this point, I'm not sure," he answered. "It couldn't have been an orc, because it was more like a goblin, shorter, but with more hair. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't anything I've ever seen."

"But this is a black arrow," Faewyn confirmed, glaring at the tarry black shaft which protruded from Gilron's back.

Legolas nodded. "I saw the same one in the warg carcass a few miles back."

I turned towards the small flame that had started and shuddered. I looked at my shaking hands, pale in the daylight. 

I inhaled and closed my eyes, willing myself to stop panicking and do something to help. How did elves stay so level headed all the time?

 It was just another affirmation that I was not, would never be, like them.

 "Gia?" Legolas asked, coming to kneel beside me. "Are you well?"

 "Fine," I said. "Lucky Maldor found athelas."

 "Lucky you weren't with me," he answered, turning back towards his fallen comrade.

I heard Gilron groan slightly as Maldor gently pulled at the arrow.

 "It is as I feared," he said, pulling out a small knife, "The arrowhead is barbed."

 "You don't have to pull it out," Gilron remarked in a pained voice, slightly muffled.

 "Of course we have to pull it out," Faewyn said, crossly. "It's probably poisoned."

 "Hannon le," he sighed sarcastically. "Fine, do it then."

 I finally turned around to see Faewyn wand Maldor bending over Gilron. Legolas was holding one of his own arrows and wearing a pained expression.

 "Gianna, is the fire hot yet?" He asked instantly, as if he were waiting for me to turn around.

 "It should be," I said, adding a few more twigs.

 The fire crackled appreciatively.

 "Do any of you have a míthril dagger?" Faeldring asked hopefully.

 "My knives are míthril," Legolas intoned, "But you can't really cut out things with them, they're too long."

 "Wait, what?" I said, realizing finally why I was stroking a fire in the middle of the day.

 Legolas looked at me.

 "We have to cut it out, Gianna," he said, with a concerned look at Gilron, who was looking paler by the second.

 "Will he be alright?" I asked, walking to stand over by Legolas.

 "Yes, hopefully, if we do it now," he said.

 Maldor pulled out a short dagger from his belt. "This one has a míthril core," he said. "It should do."

 "You can use Almiraë," I suggested, unsheathing my own knife. It was more like a dagger, almost. I had forgotten at this point that it was, in fact, made of míthril.

I suppressed a smile as I remembered Faewyn's ecstatic expression when she handed it to me.

Faewyn, as if reading my thoughts, flashed me a quick smile, though it was quickly replaced by a somber expression.

I thrust Almiraë into the coals and an eerily calm Legolas handed me a small box of salve.

"It's mostly hírilorn oil," he explained. "You'll have to put some on the blade before Maldor uses it."

I nodded and nervously pulled on my quiver strap. This was going an awful lot like a surgical operation and it was making me feel extremely uncomfortable.

 "We must hurry," Maldor urged. "He is getting a fever."

 At this point, Gilron had not even bothered to pretend like he was fine, because he wasn't. His face was ashen and small beads of sweat glistened on his brow, and I could see his clenched hands at his side.

"Nîdh," (it hurts) he grimaced, unable to handle it any longer.

"Faeldring," Maldor said urgently. "I'm going to need water."

Faeldring mounted and rode off at full speed, his sword held in his left hand. As I watched him leave, Gilron whimpered behind me and I turned to see Legolas holding down his arms by his sides. He had taken off his tunic and given it to Maldor, who put it under Gilron's forehead.

 "You'll have to hold him, my Prince," Maldor said.

 Legolas resolutely nodded. He glanced at me, and I grasped the hilt of Almiraë and pulled it out of the coals, scattering sparks. I carefully poured some of the oil onto the blade, which almost seemed to absorb the reddish liquid. Wordlessly, I handed it to Maldor, whose face had paled.

 Without a prelude, he dug it into Gilron's shoulder, quickly cutting around the rigid black shaft.

 The elf gritted his teeth and whimpered as the white-hot metal sizzled against his skin. I could see his muscles shaking, his eyes flickering under his closed eyelids.

 Maldor pushed the dagger in farther and Gilron cried out in pain, trying to fight against Legolas, who had him pinned to the ground.

 "Leithio nin! (Release me!)" he moaned, grabbing hopelessly at the air, trying to escape the torturous, searing pain.

 "Not yet, mellon nin," Legolas said, briefly closing his eyes.

 His strength was commendable, really. Gilron couldn't move at all through the Prince's iron grip.

 I turned away at the sight of Gilron's trembling form. Legolas' expression was guarded, steely, but I could see that he hated seeing Gilron in this state.  

Maldor winced and pulled on the shaft of the arrow. A thick, hollow sound of splintering wood led to another scream of agony from the fallen elf.

 "Be swift," Legolas urged. "He is weakening."

 Maldor finally used the dagger to pry out the shaft. As he placed it on the bloodstained grass, I saw that the cruel tip had hooked barbs, which still clung to bits of flesh.

I turned away, suddenly nauseous.

"Where is Faeldring?" Maldor murmured. "He is needed."

 I distracted myself by counting the petals of a small white flower which was growing at my feet.

One,

two,

three,

four...

My systematic distraction was interrupted when Legolas urgently called my name.

 "Gianna," he said again. "Gia, look at me."

 I dazedly looked at Legolas, who seemed to be a little bit panicked.

 "What is it?" I said with difficulty, my tongue like lead in my mouth.

 "You must go collect more athelas, he has to chew it or he will be unconscious. You know what it looks like."

 I mutely assented and quickly walked towards the spot where Maldor had knelt barely an hour before. My eyes frantically scoured the dirt for the characteristic small, close-set dark green leaves of kingsfoil, any withered sprout, but came up empty.

At last, I chanced across a patch of it hidden under a rocky outcropping.

"Thank Erú," I breathed, and I tore up the plant and raced for the others.

"...farther than I realized," Maldor was saying to Legolas when I returned. Both of them looked up.

 "The poison is spreading fast," Legolas told me in a low tone. "This should help dilute it a little."

 "Where is Faeldring?" Maldor said desperately, as he tore up the leaves.

 On cue, the sound of hooves had me and Legolas on our feet.

 "Elbereth!" Legolas exclaimed, as Faeldring approached. "What in Arda happened to you?"

 "Later," Faeldring coughed, as he leaped off his horse and tossed a waterskin at Maldor.

***************

Finally, the horrifying ordeal began to wind down.

Although Gilron was still trembling uncontrollably, Legolas had given him some other obscure tincture that put him into a feverish slumber. The worst part was when Maldor had to seal the wound -- bandages would not have worked because apparently he would have bled to death.

 I inwardly shuddered at that thought. Hopefully none of this happened again for the rest of this insane journey, because the hot knives and skin thing just really wasn't working for me.

 At any rate, the fact that nobody had died yet hadn't released any tension whatsoever, as Faeldring had informed us that he had an impromptu battle with two creatures who seemed to be similar to the one that Legolas and Gilron encountered.

 "Did you kill it?" Faewyn asked, eyes glinting by the firelight.

 We all looked at Legolas expectantly.

 "I couldn't," he said helplessly. "After he shot Gilron, I knew he had minutes, if any. At the moment he has one of my arrows in his stomach, but I saw him running away."

 We contemplated this worrying prospect.

 "You did what was needed to save me," said a quiet voice from over by Faeldring.

 "Gilron," I sighed, relieved.

 Legolas inclined his head. "I am glad you are healing."

 "I'm surprised he's awake," I said to Faewyn. "I was so afraid that..."

 Faewyn smiled a little. "Elves heal quickly."

 "Not that quickly, surely," I pressed.

 "No, of course not. He won't be able to ride for awhile, I don't know what we're going to do."

 I glanced up to see Legolas and Maldor standing a few paces on either side of our camp, ever the watchful sentries.

 "Losto vae, (Sleep well)" Legolas said softly, retreating a little bit so I could see his face.

 "Avon, (I refuse)" I scowled, sitting up and fidgeting with a random twig.

 "Go to sleep," he insisted.

 "Stop it, you," I hissed, throwing the small branch at him.

 He caught it, of course.

 "Was this even a good idea?" I said helplessly. "If Gilron had died, it would've been my fault."

 "Of course it wouldn't have," Faewyn said, scooting closer. Legolas sat down next to me.

 "Do you both know how to fight?" he said abruptly, turning his bow over in his palms.

 "Yes," Faewyn said instantly. She had always loved it when we practiced archery.

 Legolas fixed me with an exasperated stare. "And you?" He asked.

 "Not as well as Fae, but I can handle a knife and a bow without incident."

 "Maybe I'll see for myself tomorrow," he said, turning back towards the dusky sky.

 "You know what, hopefully not," I said irritably. "Also, can I please have my dagger back now?"

 "Oh, my mistake," he said, reaching into his quiver.

 I looked at Almiraë suspiciously.

 "It does not have blood on it," he informed me.

 "It's not that," I said, "but why do you have it?"

 "Because I offered to clean it, you're welcome," he said saucily.

I rolled my eyes and pictured the amused look in his blue eyes.

Then I scowled, my general expression after he was nice to me.

"Le fael, (thank you)" I barely whispered.

I saw his mouth curve into a smile as he vanished into the darkness.