See Chap. 1 for disclaimer.

Chapter 3 - More Unexpected Company

They had not traveled very far before the dwarves decided to stop for their midday meal. Legolas was glad for the respite, for his leg was throbbing with every step and his back was stiff and sore. And he was very hungry. He wondered what the dwarves would provide for this meal. Perhaps they would hunt down some forest creatures to roast over an open fire. He had heard from Tavaro that warriors often ate in this manner and he was eager to eat like a warrior, even if he did not fight like one, yet. He eyed the dwarves hopefully.

To his great disappointment, each of them untied a small bag attached to their heavy belts and drew out strips of what appeared to be dried meat. These they set to immediately with a great gnashing and chomping of teeth as if it was the most delectable of fare. One dwarf took notice that the elfling was watching them with unblinking eyes. Reluctantly, he reached into his own bag and drew out another strip of meat, weighed it briefly for size in his hand before handing it to Legolas.

"Here, and do not tell your kin that we starved you," he said grumpily.

"Thank you."

Legolas eyed the piece of dark, wizened meat in his hand and thought it the most unappetizing thing he had ever seen, but he was hungry and it would be rude to turn away food that the dwarves were willing to share with him. Cautiously, he bit down on the hardened meat. His teeth made not a dent on the unyielding substance. Legolas pulled it away and gave it a hardy stare. His stomach growled. He tried once more, but this time, he held onto the meat with both hands and gnawed his teeth back and forth until he succeeded in tearing a sliver off. The meat was bitterly salty and tasted of nothing in particular. The saltiness of the meat made the saliva in his mouth pool and he quickly wiped a hand across his mouth. It would not do to drool in the presence of dwarves. It took much effort on Legolas part, but he managed to consume the entire strip of the unappetizing meat, though he was left with a set of aching jaws and a raging thirst afterwards.

The dwarves too had finished chewing through their strips of meat and were pouring some form of liquid into tin cups from which they drank with great relish. Legolas eyed the liquid with longing and hoped that he would be offered a cup as well. The same dwarf who had given him the meat saw his look of need. With as much reluctance as before, he filled his cup and passed it to the elfling.

"I never thought I would see the day that I would share my cup with an elf," the dwarf groused. His companions laughed haughtily.

"Thank you," Legolas said gratefully and took a large gulp. And just as quickly, he spat out the liquid, and was immediately seized by a fit of choking coughs.

The dwarf quickly took the cup away before more of its precious content could be spilled.

"It is not water!" Legolas gasped breathlessly as he wiped his teary eyes. "Do you not have water?

"Of course it is not water! Why would we carry water when we can carry ale? You either drink this or nothing of at all! Trust an elf to spat out our ale!" was the indignant reply.

Legolas eyed the cup warily, his tongue curling still from the unfamiliar taste left by the ale. Suddenly, he had an idea. Taking the cup from the dwarf in one hand and with the other, he pinched his nostrils shut and drained the ale in one long gulp. He had done this before when the palace healers had forced upon him their vile brews and it had helped then. And it worked now. He had succeeded in draining the entire cup without gagging and his thirst was now quenched. There was nothing he could do to remove the bitter aftertaste, however.

"Thank you." He returned the now empty cup to the dwarf.

"Humph! You drink our ale like you do poison! Ungrateful creature that you elves are!"

Legolas reddened. "I am unused to the taste of your ale. I did thank you though!"

The dwarf harrumphed again. He reattached the cup and the bag of dried meat to his belt and rose from the ground. "We best be on our way if we are to return you to your kin before dark."

And so the procession of elfling and dwarves continued through the trees until they at last came upon the first tree that Legolas had left his mark.

"I do not know the way from here," Legolas admitted as they all came to an abrupt stop.

"You do not know the way!" one of the dwarves bellowed.

"I only thought of marking the trees half-way through my journey," Legolas admitted. He gestured vaguely in the direction before him. "I think my people are through the trees there."

"Now what do we do? We are as lost as the pointy-ears here."

"It was your idea to return the elf to his kin. You decide what we should do!"

The first dwarf glowered at the elfling as if in doing so, Legolas' memory might be prompted to lead them in the right direction. The elfling returned the look with wide-eyed patience. Suddenly the trees began to murmur in agitation. Legolas tilted his head and listened intently.

"Something is coming! The trees are warning us," Legolas said.

"You elves and your tree talk!" one the dwarves spat in disgust.

"Silence, you fool! I think the spiders have found us again!"

"Spiders? Where?" Legolas snapped his head around in eager anticipation.

"You, grab the elf and run. We will try to distract those vile creatures the best we can. We will try to catch up with you bye-and-bye!" the dwarf who appeared to be in charge ordered one of his companions.

"Why do I have to take the pointy-ears? I told you I was not going near the creature!"

"You are the swiftest among us, and he cannot run with his injured leg. Now go, before we all become food morsels for those spiders!"

Legolas looked from one dwarf to the other with eyes the size of saucers. Suddenly and with a growl of disgust, the so-ordered dwarf snatched him from the ground. Legolas managed a squeak of surprise before he was tucked like a parcel under the dwarf's arm and carried off at a surprising speed by the naugrim.

Legolas found himself struggling to breathe, and what breath that he could snatch into his burning lungs was tainted with the stale and unpleasant odours of a body that did not see water and soap on a daily basis. To make matters worse, the jostling movements were making the foreign food and drink in his stomach swoosh about in the most sickening manner as the dwarf weaved his way between trees. His instinct for survival took over and Legolas struggled and thrashed with the parts of his body that were still at liberty to move.

"Stop thrashing, you ungrateful snippet of an elf!" the dwarf growled and promptly delivered a smack to the elfling's head with his hammer-like fist.

The pain of the blow made Legolas' eyes watered and his legs kicked out again, and this time, he was able to make solid contact with the backside of the dwarf. The stout one grunted in surprise and his hold on the elfling's neck loosened briefly. Legolas instantly jerked his face from where it had been pressed against the dwarf's side and sucked in a long, unhindered breath. He was immediately assaulted by the overwhelming odours emanating from the dwarf and the elfling's stomach rebelled in the only manner it knew how, all over his carrier's clothing and splendid beard.

"Ahh! You cursed, undersized, erupting tree hugger!"

The dwarf's reaction was immediate and Legolas found himself flung through the air and landing on the ground with a painful thump, his injured leg taking the brunt of the impact. Tears welled and spilled freely and Legolas would have cried out from the pain if his hands were not clamped tightly over his mouth. His stomach had just spilled from his mouth and if he did not keep his mouth sealed, his heart would surely spill out next and he would then most assuredly die. Overwhelmed with the fear of his imminent death and pain from his injured leg, the elfling was totally oblivious to the wildly angered and now soiled dwarf as the latter hobbled about, cursing Legolas and all things elven, living or otherwise, with every dwarvish blasphemy that had come down through the ages.

"You touch one more hair on that elfling's head, and you will have drawn your last breath."

A cold and impassive voice suddenly cut through the string of dwarvish curses and the agitated one came to an abrupt stop, in movement and in voice. The dwarf then turned slowly and saw that he was surrounded by a ring of silent elven warriors, each directing an arrow at his most vulnerable body parts. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his companions being herded forward. One was obviously injured and was supported by two of his fellow travelers.

The warrior who had voiced the initial threat stepped forward and appraised the dwarves with a cold glare of warning before moving swiftly to kneel by the crouching elfling.

"Are you all right, little one? Did he injure you anywhere else?" The once icy voice was now gentle and full of compassion. "Come, tell me where you are hurt."

Legolas looked up at his sudden saviour with fearful eyes as the tears continued to spill. He did not move the hands that remained clamped over his mouth.

"Take your hands away, little one and speak with me," the warrior urged.

Legolas shook his head frantically and mumbled through closed lips, "Heartwillcomeout."

The warrior's eyes widened. "I am afraid that I do not understand you. Will you not take your hands away and tell me what is wrong?"

There was another tearful shake of the golden head.

The warrior studied the elfling, taking careful note of the sullied hair and the unmistakable smell of vomit. He then turned his attention to the one who had been threatened by him earlier and took note of the latter's vomit-covered beard and clothing. Understanding dawned and he struggled to suppress a growing smile.

"Were you sick, little one?" he asked gently. Seeing the incomprehension in the tearful eyes, he realized that perhaps this elfling had yet to experience the trauma of vomiting. He reworded his query. "Did something spill from our mouth?"

The golden head nodded vigorously. "Stomach."

"Oh no, little one. That was not your stomach." The warrior did his best not to laugh outright. "It was probably something that you ate that your stomach disliked. When that happens, the stomach rids itself of the unwanted food, as a way of cleansing itself."

Legolas looked at him suspiciously, but made no move to remove his hands.

"Come, take your hands down and speak with me," the warrior urged again.

Legolas shook his head. "Heart."

The warrior smiled. "No, your heart is quite safe, I assure you. Here, allow me to take your hands away and you can then feel your heart."

Gentle hands pried loose the small fingers and placed one of Legolas' hands over the elfling's heart. "There, can you feel it?"

Legolas concentrated fiercely and felt the rapid thumping of his heart under his cautious fingers. He looked up in great wonderment. "Heart is still there."

The warrior smiled once more. "Yes, your heart is certainly still there." He reached for his water skin and offered it to the elfling. "Take a small sip to rinse your mouth before spitting it out. Then you take a real drink after that. It will make you feel better."

Legolas did as he was told and spat out the water eagerly. He had never been allowed to do this before. He gave the warrior a wavering smile. The latter nodded encouragingly. The elfling then took another sip. Water had never tasted so good.

"Slowly, little one, or you will make yourself sick again," the warrior cautioned.

Legolas yanked the water skin away immediately. He was not completely certain yet that his stomach and heart would stay in place, in spite of the other's assurances.

"Now, can you tell me where else you are hurt, apart from your leg?" the warrior asked as he set down the water skin.

"My back is sore from the fall off the tree," Legolas said.

"You fell from a tree?" The warrior looked duly horrified.

Legolas' face reddened. Wood Elves did not fall from trees. "I was trying to get away from the dwarves. I thought they were wargs."

"The dwarves were chasing you? Did they make you fall from the tree?" The latter statement was accompanied by a formidable frown directed at the naugrims.

Legolas recognized that look. He had seen it many times before on his brother, Feren's face. The promise that he had made to the dwarves came quickly back to him. "I do not think they meant to chase me. I was the one running away from them. They did not hurt me. They were taking me home as they said they did not want to leave me alone in the forest. Then the spiders came, though I did not see them as that one," pointing at the unfortunate dwarf, "carried me off while the others stayed behind to fight the spiders."

The warrior nodded. "So the naugrims speak the truth." He turned to the unmoving warriors. "Lower your bows. I do not think they pose a threat to us, or to the elfling. Attend to the injured one and give him another dose of antidote."

"Did he get bitten by a spider?" Legolas asked.

"Yes, he did, but we have given him the antidote and he should recover in due course."

"And the spiders, where are they?" Legolas looked about him with uncontained eagerness.

"We have killed them so you need not fear them any longer. You are quite safe now," the warrior assured quickly, mistaking the eagerness for fear in the elfling.

"Oh."

The note of disappointment did not escape the warrior. He studied the elfling closely and a slow smile of understanding spread across his face. He retrieved his pack and pulled from it a small healing kit. "Let me attend to your leg first, and we need to clean you as well. How did you hurt your leg?"

"I think I caught it on a branch when I fell from the tree. I missed the branch that I was leaping for."

"You were travelling through the trees?" A frown creased the other's face.

Legolas lowered his gaze. "I am forbidden to do so, but I was trying to move quickly and I dared not go to the ground because I thought they were wargs."

"It seems that you have had quite an adventure, little one. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I am called Legolas," Legolas answered dutifully.

"Legolas?" The warrior looked at him with renewed interest. "So you are Legolas. Your adar will not be very happy that you are out here on your own. We best get you back to him as quickly as possible."

"You know my adar?" Legolas asked.

"I doubt that there is one elf in these forests who does not know your adar. It is a fortunate thing that who you are is not such wide-spread knowledge," the warrior said rather cryptically.

Legolas frowned, trying to make sense of the other's words, and failed. "I have told you my name, but you have not told me yours."

"Ahh, how rude of me. My name, little one, is Salque."

"Mae govannen, Salque." Legolas bowed as best as he could from where he was sitting on the ground.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," the warrior returned the greeting.

TBC