Ch. 8
"My lord." There was a light touch on his shoulder and Feren looked up.
"The arrow, we must remove it." It was Hesin, his face written over and over again with guilt.
Feren nodded briefly and forced himself to take in a steadying breath. He eased his brother’s body up slightly over an upraised knee and Legolas cried out in pain.
"I am sorry, Legolas," he whispered. He reached out tentatively for the thick black arrow that protruded so grotesquely from his brother’s body, but stopped halfway when he found that his hand was trembling too much.
"Allow me to do it, my lord," Hesin offered.
Feren nodded at him gratefully, relieved that he would not be the one to cause his brother further pain. Numbly, he watched as another elf began to ready the needed bandages and healing herbs.

"My lord, the arrow has almost gone right through. If we pull it out, it will cause even more grievous damage." Hesin was studying the arrow with a frown. "I suggest that we push it through, remove the arrow head and then withdraw the shaft."
Feren peered down his brother’s back. The arrow had entered Legolas’ lower left side with nearly a third of the shaft burying itself in the torn flesh. Pushing the arrow through would create another wound, but tearing it out could very well end his brother’s life instantly. Both seemed to be unthinkable choices.
"We will push the arrow through." Feren forced the words out with difficulty. "Spread out a cloak so I can lay him down."
Legolas cried out again as he was eased down onto the ground and Feren noted with a sinking heart that his brother’s cries were already weakening. Gently he positioned Legolas onto his side and began to cut away the blood soaked tunic, being careful not to jar the protruding arrow.
When all was ready, he took one of his brother’s hands into his own while he placed the other firmly on Legolas’ shoulder to hold him still. Another warrior held down the young elf’s legs. Legolas whimpered weakly, barely holding onto consciousness. Feren glanced briefly at Hesin and nodded.
As Hesin pushed the arrow through in one quick movement, Legolas’ body bucked wildly against the restraining hands and his scream pierced Feren’s heart and soul with unimaginable anguish. The young elf’s body suddenly went slack and Feren breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar that his brother was at last unconscious and beyond reach of the all-consuming pain.
Hesin quickly cut off the blood-slicked arrowhead and with one smooth pull, drew the shaft from the now inert body. Blood gushed liberally from both wounds and Feren pressed cloths against the gaping holes in a fruitless attempt to stem the bleeding. He had to force back threatening cries of fear and helplessness as he felt his brother’s blood spilling over his hands with sickening warmth.
"Press harder, my lord or we will lose him!" Hesin admonished sharply. "You cannot hurt him now."
After what seemed an eternity, the bleeding finally slowed enough for herbs to be applied and bandages wound thickly around the young elf’s body. Legolas had not wakened and Feren had to check time and time again to ensure that his brother in fact still drew breath, so deathly still was he.
Even as he sat cradling his brother’s seemingly lifeless form, Feren knew that they could not afford to linger any longer. Tuile and his group of warriors had since returned with the report that they had been successful in preventing any orcs from escaping. His men were now awaiting his order to move out against the enemies. Desperate as he was to do so, Feren knew they could not remain stationary to give Legolas the much-needed time to heal and knew, as well, that his brother may likely perish because of this, but there were too many lives at stake. As the king’s son and commander of troops, he could not justify the weighing of one life against so many, even though that one life was that of his brother. If they could not win this battle, it was unlikely that Mirkwood would survive. Any other option was closed to him.
"All right, prepare to move out. We have lost enough time already." He wrapped another cloak around his unconscious brother and pushed himself upright with Legolas cradled in his arms.
"My lord, what of Prince Legolas?" Hesin asked hesitantly, his eyes unmoving from the motionless form of the young prince.
"We cannot leave him behind. It is far too dangerous. He will ride with us – for as long as it is possible. Once we have fully engaged the enemies in battle, I want you to find a way to take him back to the palace." ‘if you can’. The unspoken words hung heavily between them. They both knew the chances of getting Legolas safely back to the palace amidst the fighting were slim, if there were chances at all.
Hesin hung his head in guilt. "I know I do not deserve your trust for I have already failed you once, but I swear to you that I will protect him with my life."
"I know you will, Hesin," Feren said quietly. "Do not blame yourself. I know you did your best, but Legolas is – unstoppable." He closed his eyes in momentary anguish. Then gathering what remained of his self-control and discipline, he straightened with his burden and said in his commander’s voice. "Let us move out. We have an army of orcs to kill."
***
They were riding very quickly, and Feren did his best to cushion the jostling that would only add further injury to his brother who remained so alarmingly still in his arms. He glanced down at Legolas, as he had done countless times before on this ride to battle, and as before, the colourless countenance of his brother caused his heart to lurch and skip most painfully. He was thankful that Legolas, in his senseless state, could not feel the pain the jarring cantor of the horse no doubt inflicted, but he worried also over the prolonged state of unconsciousness that his brother had fallen into. He knew if Legolas were to survive, they needed to get him to the care of the skilled healers at the palace and that any delay would only dim his brother’s chances of survival. And yet their path was blocked by an unruly army of orcs bent on destroying all of Mirkwood.
In all his years as a warrior and commander, Feren had never felt such helpless frustration. His youngest brother was slipping closer and closer to death and he was completely powerless to halt that deadly descent. How could he possibly face Thranduil, or his other brothers, should Legolas be lost? How could he face himself, for that matter? How could he ever live with the knowledge that Legolas sacrificed his own life so that he may live?
Stop it, he admonished himself silently. Legolas breathed still. Dwelling on thoughts of death would not help the situation, dire as it was. He must focus on his other responsibilities. His men depended on his skills as a commander if they were to win this battle. If he faltered now, all would be lost.
As these thoughts tumbled through his anguished mind, his arms tightened unwittingly around his injured brother. Legolas moaned and the older elf snapped out of his untimely reverie.
"Legolas?" Feren called out softly, peering intently at this brother’s ashen face for signs of wakening.
From Legolas, there was only another weak moan as he stirred imperceptibly.
"Be still, Legolas or you will cause yourself more pain."
The thick lashes lifted fractionally and Legolas moved his lips as to speak, though no sound came forth. Feren brought his horse to a halt and the other warriors followed suit.
"We shall stop here briefly," Feren said. "Tuile, send two of your men ahead with a message to the other two detachments – that they are to attack as soon as they are ready. Uurime, send a scout ahead to apprise the location of the orcs. I believe they are near. He is to signal to us as soon as the flank attacks commence . We will be close behind. The rest of you, take this opportunity to ready yourselves for battle."
"My lord, pass Prince Legolas down to me while you dismount," Hesin held out his arms.
In spite of their care and gentleness, Legolas whimpered in pain as he was passed from his brother’s arms to those of the waiting warrior. With the utmost care, Hesin eased the wounded elf back against the trunk of a tree. Feren knelt down beside his brother with the water skin.
"Come, Legolas, you must drink some water." He slipped a supporting hand behind his brother’s head and eased him forward slightly.
Legolas only managed a few small sips before he pulled away weakly. "No more."
Frowning, Feren took the water skin away. Legolas needed to drink more, to compensate for the severe blood loss. Setting that worrying thought aside, he turned his attention to the more obvious concern. "Legolas, I need to check your wound."
Beside him, Hesin had already prepared fresh bandages and was sorting through the herbs. With a tremor that he could not control, Feren unwound the thick bandages that covered his brother’s slender body, grimacing at the spreading stains that colored the white linen. The wounds continued to seep blood, no doubt aggravated by the constant jostling on horseback. Stoically blocking out the small sounds of pain that his brother was making, Feren quickly applied a new layer of crushed herbs and rewrapped the wounds securely. He was not the skilled healer that his brother so desperately needed but he hoped the herbs would at least ease some of the pain and slow the bleeding. He pulled the edges of the cloak closer around his brother’s chin.
"How do you feel?" The question sounded lame even in his own ears, but he could think of no further words at the moment.
Surprisingly, there was a wisp of smile on his brother’s colourless face. "Weak, and in pain." The words were barely above a whisper and were spoken with an obvious effort.
Feren laid a gentle hand against his brother’s face. "I am sorry I cannot do more to ease your suffering."
"I know, Feren," he paused to collect his breath. "Where are we?"
"Very close to our enemies. We will be launching into battle soon." His thumb gently stroked the soft skin of his brother’s cheek. "I am sorry, Legolas, but I must leave you soon."
"I know, Feren," Legolas whispered. "For battle. Your duty."
Feren swallowed painfully at the unexpected words of maturity. What of his duty to his brother? He angrily shook the thought away. "Hesin will stay with you and take you back to the palace."
"Worry not. I will be fine." The hint of a smile again touched his brother’s whiten lips.
Feren leaned forward to kiss his young brother on the forehead. "May the Valar watch over you, Legolas."
Legolas grasped his brother’s tunic weakly. "Feren, take care. Meet at palace – after battle."
Feren furiously blinked back the threatening tears and pulled his brother into a gentle embrace, hoping desperately that this would not be the last time that he would hold his brother in his arms. "Yes, we will meet after the battle, at the palace."
"I would do it again," Legolas whispered.
Feren pulled back slightly. "What?"
"Taking the arrow."
This time, the tears spilled helplessly and he pressed his brother once more to his chest. "Thank you, little one, for my life." Then with renewed resolve, he eased Legolas back against the tree and stood up.
"Hesin, I deliver him into your care." He clasped the other warrior’s arm forcefully. "I will send word to you as to when to set out for the palace."
Hesin returned the clasp. "With my life, I will protect him, my lord. He shall live as long as I draw breath."
Feren nodded and forcing himself to not look back at Legolas one last time, he leapt onto his horse and held up a hand, drawing the attention of each of the warriors. "We ride to battle, for Mirkwood!"
TBC