Ch. 9

Hesin knelt down beside Legolas and called out softly. "Prince Legolas, you must drink more water."
The young elf looked up listlessly and regarded the other with eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion. Legolas drank obediently as Hesin studied him with increasing worry. The youngling’s face was a colourless mask, with two small patches of unnatural colour tinting the deathly pale cheeks. Alarmed, the older elf reached out and laid the back of his hand over the other’s forehead. He immediately felt the unmistakable heat that was so unnatural to elves. The wounds must be festering. The need to get the young elf to the healers was becoming increasingly desperate. Hesin strained his ears for sounds of one approaching but could only pick the distant clamour of battle. The fighting had begun then. Hesin debated briefly with himself the wisdom of riding out before a signal from his commander and almost immediately decided against it. Feren was more than a capable commander and no doubt word would come soon.
"I am sorry, Hesin," Legolas suddenly spoke up, startling the older elf.
"Sorry for what, my prince?"
"You would not be here if not for me," Legolas whispered. "You would be with your fellow warriors, defending Mirkwood."
Hesin regarded the younger elf and allowed himself to smile. "You are part of Mirkwood, my prince. I feel no less honour protecting you than if I were protecting Mirkwood by fighting the accursed orcs with the others."
"But you are a warrior," Legolas said. "Not a nursemaid."
Hesin could not help but smile again at the youngling’s words. "The duties of a warrior are many, one of which is tending to the injuries of another warrior and ensuring the other’s well-being. And that is exactly what I am doing."
There was a sparkle in Legolas’ eyes that was not put there by the fever. "You would consider me a warrior?"
"You have conducted yourself as well as any of us when we confronted the orcs back there in the woods. Your arrows more often than mine found their target." He touched the young elf lightly on the arm. "Moreover, you were willing to sacrifice your own life for that of another warrior, something which even a seasoned warrior might hesitate in so doing."
"I only wanted to save my brother," Legolas said softly.
"Nevertheless, it was very brave and selfless of you." Hesin reached out and clasped the young elf in the manner of a warrior greeting. "I am proud to call you my fellow warrior."
Legolas smiled and whispered, "Thank you, Hesin. You do not know how much your words mean to me."
"Now rest, young one. You must conserve your energy for what is ahead." Hesin watched in grim satisfaction as Legolas closed his eyes. He did not want to think that death awaited them, but he also did not think they would reach the palace unscathed. He could only pray that he would be able to return Thranduil’s young son to his liege alive. It mattered not what price he himself would have to pay.
It was not long before his ears picked up the small sounds of an approaching rider. In a flash, he was on his feet, standing protectively over Legolas with his arrow pointed in the direction of the noise. He knew the newcomer must be an elf by the lightness of his approach, but he dared not take chances, not with the life of his king’s youngest at stake.
The rider was indeed an elf. He was on the ground even before his horse had fully stopped. "Lord Feren has ordered that we ride out with Prince Legolas right now."
"How goes the battle?" Hesin asked as he prepared his own mount.
"It is too early to tell. The orcs are many," the other answered. "But I believe Lord Feren’s plan of breaking them up is working. There are orcs scattering in all directions. We must leave quickly in case some find their way here."
Hesin bent down and lifted Legolas gently. The young elf’s eyes opened immediately. "What is happening?"
"We are going back to the palace, my prince."
"I can ride, Hesin," Legolas protested as the other continued to cradle him after mounting the horse.
"No, it is too dangerous. You might fall." Hesin shook his head.
You will need your arms free to fight. You cannot protect me if you are unable to wield your weapons," Legolas insisted.
Hesin was forced to consider this situation. "Koire will be riding at our side with his weapons,"
"It will not be enough, and you know it."
After another brief consideration, Hesin nodded and with infinite care, helped the young elf sit back on the horse. Legolas clenched his teeth against the flashing pain the movement caused and for an agonizing moment, the world around him swam and darkened. He felt Hesin’s supporting hands on him and eased back against the older elf with a half-suppressed groan.
"I am all right," he panted breathlessly. "Let us be on our way."
Hesin tightened his hold on the young elf fractionally and urged his horse forward at a quick cantor. He felt Legolas’ muscles tensed with the onslaught of pain the jarring movements must be causing, though the young elf made no sound. Hesin pressed his lips into a thin grim line. There was naught he could do to ease Legolas’ pain. He could only pray that the young prince would not fall off the horse.
For Legolas, his world had become a red haze of pain as he slumped over the horse, his hands clutching its mane in a death grip. Each movement of the horse sent jolts of breath-stopping agony through his entire being. He could not recall ever being in so much pain. The temptation to slip into painless insensibility was great, but he resisted the easy tides of dark oblivion with teeth-clenching effort. He could not become a greater burden to Hesin than he already was. Yet even as he struggled to maintain his senses, he could feel the warmth of his own blood soaking the already stained tunic and spreading onto the leggings.
Dimly, he became aware of the sound of clashing steel amidst a melee of unearthly screams and cries. He could also feel the jerking movements of Hesin behind him. With heart-pounding effort, Legolas forced himself up fractionally and opened his eyes. What he saw was a scene so nightmarish that he could not contain a cry of fear. Their horse was cleaving its way through what seemed to be a deadly sea of clashing elves and orcs, each intent on the total destruction of the other. Bodies of fallen elves and orcs alike strewed the trampled grounds and bright red elven blood mixed with the thick black gore of their enemies soaked the littered battlefield in gory patches and puddles. Even his pain was forgotten momentarily as Legolas gaped in horror at the passing sights as their horse continued to plunge ahead. A lunging orc quickly disappeared as Hesin’s knife swept out in a lethal arc. They skirted sharply around several other charging orcs and Legolas was saved from falling off the galloping steed only by Hesin’s quick grab of his tunic. He heard his own voice crying out in pain as his side was brutally jostled. Desperately he shook his head in an effort to clear the invading darkness that threatened his sight.
Suddenly all motion came to an abrupt stop. Then some unknown force was propelling him over the head of the horse as he grasped wildly for its mane. His hands met air. For a brief infinity, all senses were lost to him, only to come crashing back seconds later when his flailing body hit the ground in an explosion of agony. He did not even have the breath to cry out. Somewhere amidst the swirling mists of black pain, he instinctively knew that he could not succumb to the inviting darkness. He had to remain awake or surely death would overtake him.
Pulling on what remnants of strength remaining to him, he forced open his eyes and found the face of an orc staring sightlessly at him from mere inches away. He gasped involuntarily before his overtaxed senses told him that the enemy was no longer alive. His breathing coming in great shuddering sobs, he somehow pushed himself upright, his trembling body supported by an equally trembling arm. Blinking furiously against an easy darkness, his eyes slowly came into focus on the scene before him. Elves and orcs continued to battle in clusters around him, yet miraculously, the enemies seemed not to take immediate notice of him. His eyes searched for and finally found Hesin. The latter’s legs were pinned beneath the body of his horse and he was looking frantically in his direction. Legolas wanted to assure the older elf that he was in fact alive, but could not summon sufficient energy to give sound to the words. Somehow, he would have to make his way to Hesin as it was obvious that the warrior could not come to him. There was no sign of the other warrior who had been riding at their side.
Suddenly, to his horror, Legolas caught sight of an orc advancing on the trapped warrior, scimitar raised menacingly to strike down the hapless elf.
"Hesin, look out!" Somehow Legolas found the strength to yell out. And somehow, the older warrior, alerted by his cry, managed to swing up his knife and diverted the deadly path of the orc blade. Frantically, Legolas searched about him for some form of weapon and his eyes fell on a discarded scimitar. Without hesitation and drawing on strength that he thought he no longer had, Legolas grabbed the orc blade and threw it. With a sickening thud, it slammed into the other orc just as the latter was about to cleave Hesin into halves. The dark creature instantly crumbled and fell atop of the trapped warrior.
Heaving with exertion, Legolas closed his eyes and felt the soothing darkness embracing him. No, not yet. He could not give in yet. Hesin was trapped still and he must somehow free him, or at least somehow fend off the enemies until help arrived. Laboriously, he began to claw his way to the older elf. The distance was no more than ten feet, but amidst the all-consuming pain and darkening vision, it seemed immeasurable to the wounded elf. Not yet, not yet, he told himself over and over again as he pulled his bleeding body blindly forward. He could not give in to the darkness yet.
Somehow he reached the other elf, and somehow, he managed to pull the dead orc off the trapped warrior.
"Hesin, are y-you al-all right?" he gasped brokenly.
"My legs are trapped. I cannot move. You must leave me and save yourself," the other elf said urgently.
Legolas shook his head weakly. "I cannot ." With a supreme effort, he pushed himself up against the dead orc and took the other elf’s knife into his own trembling hand. He did not think he could defend himself against a newborn elfling at the moment, but he was also determined that he would not let the orcs take him or Hesin without a final fight. He slumped back against the dead orc. Repulsed as he was by the feel of the foul creature against his own body, he simply was too weak to sit unsupported.
"Prince Legolas--" Hesin pleaded again. "You must save yourself."
"I have — no --more strength," Legolas panted breathlessly.
The battle raged on around them, but Legolas had not the strength nor the wit to take heed of its happening. He wondered vaguely why no elf or orc had taken further notice of them. Perhaps they already looked like the dead.
Not yet, not yet, but he knew he was drifting closer and closer to oblivion. At least he would die on a battlefield, with other warriors.
TBC