Chapter 4      No Room for Mistakes

Someone had been watching them.

Gimli was not quite sure what to make of this information.  All he knew was that he had been having an enjoyable morning up until Legolas had made the observation that they were being watched.  Now every nerve in his body was in alert mode, and he couldn’t seem to stop glancing around nervously as they made their way up the stone streets of the city toward the palace. 

After leaving the inn’s stables, Legolas had seemed to relax, stating that he no longer sensed the presence of their unseen watcher.  Gimli, on the other hand, had only grown tenser as the minutes passed.  Some unknown sense deep within him was setting off a silent alarm, and Gimli was finding it harder and harder to ignore.  Legolas might no longer sense eyes watching them, but it was obvious that the elf was still troubled, which in turn caused Gimli to be troubled.

A long stream of questions kept filing through his mind.  Who was watching them?  Why?  Did this unseen watcher hold any ill intentions, or was it just the gaze of someone overly curious?  Was the watcher’s purpose directed toward Legolas, or himself?  Or maybe both? 

He couldn’t seem to come up with any answers, and he found himself more and more anxious to speak with Aragorn.  He was not sure the ex-ranger would know any more than himself, but at least he would feel better once Aragorn was aware of the situation. 

Gimli leaned forward slightly, intending to ask Legolas to pick up the already fast pace. 

He never got a chance, however, for Legolas suddenly stiffened, his body going from relaxed calm, to stiff and tense in the moment of a heartbeat.  Beneath them, Shandarell shifted and tossed his head, picking up on his rider’s nervousness.

“Legolas, what…?”  Gimli began to ask, but for the second time, he was interrupted as something slammed into him with enough force to drive him forward against Legolas’s back.  A surprised grunt was all that managed to escape as the air was forcefully driven from his lungs.

For a second, his mind was too confused and surprised to figure out what had happened.  Then a wave of intense pain struck him, the force of it causing his vision to blur before him.  He thought he heard shouting and screams, but he could not be sure through the roaring in his ears.  The whole world seemed to be rocking wildly, and he had the odd sensation that he was falling.

He was almost relieved when a blanket of darkness fell over him and the world went black.

*****

Legolas knew immediately that the watcher was back.  The gaze he had sensed earlier returned, this time with alarming intensity.  His body went taut, every nerve screaming in warning.  The abruptness and force of his reaction confused him, causing him to hesitate.  Beneath him, Shandarell danced nervously, tossing his head in aggravation.

Behind him, he heard Gimli begin to speak, then cut off with a startled grunt.  He felt the dwarf’s weight crash into his back, knocking him forward and momentarily off balance.  He quickly tightened his legs around Shandarell to keep his seat, the horse automatically responding to the pressure by dancing sideways.

He was still trying to regain his senses and figure out what had happened when he noticed that the people on the streets had all stopped and were staring at him, several of them pointing while others started shouting.  A sudden sense of dread overrode even his confusion, and this feeling only intensified as he felt Gimli slowly slipping sideways off of Shandarell.

Legolas reacted without thinking, twisting around and making a grab at Gimli’s arm to steady him.  The weight of his tumbling friend pulled Legolas from his seat, and he did not try to stop his fall.  Instead, he twisted again, attempting to work his way beneath Gimli so as to take the force of the impact with the ground. 

He hit the solid stone hard, his left shoulder striking first as he wasn’t quite able to twist completely around to his back.  His head connected with the stone street with a dull thud, and a thousand stars exploded across his vision.  A fraction of a second later, Gimli landed atop him, his weight driving all the air from Legolas’ lungs.

****

Tervanis swore silently, his hold on his bow tightening into a white fisted grip.  A surge of anger swelled through him, and for a split second he considered drawing another arrow and finishing the job.

Shaking his head firmly, he dropped back down into a protective crouch and began to hurry toward the far wall where he had first made his ascent.  He swore again as his cloak tore on the rough stone in his hurry to drop back down to the alley.

His shot had not been clean.

Tervanis hated it when things did not work out according to plan, and he hated it even worse when his actions were anything less than perfect.  His aim had been true, his hands steady, but at the last minute the horse had shifted, shying to the side and throwing off the killing shot by only a few inches.

Tervanis clenched his jaw in anger as he landed with a soft thud on the hard ground of the alley.  He knew his shot might very well still turn out to be lethal, but he would have preferred it to have done its job immediately.  There was no room for mistakes in his line of work.

“I will have to do better next time,” Tervanis muttered to himself, jogging quickly to the end of the alley.  The large, scar faced man still stood blocking the entrance, his head turned toward the commotion a few yards further down the street.  He jumped slightly when Tervanis tapped him impatiently on the shoulder, than quickly moved aside and allowed the assassin to slip from the alley.

Tervanis glanced down the street and found that a large crowd of people blocked his view of what was going on.  With a disgusted shake of his head, he turned and casually strode in the opposite direction, his face once more hidden of any emotion that might draw attention to him.  He heard the scar faced man shuffling along a few feet behind him, but he ignored him, his thoughts already contemplating the next part of Servius’ plan.

*****

Legolas wasn’t quite sure what had happened.  His head and shoulder throbbed painfully, and the heavy weight resting across his chest was making it difficult to breathe.  For a few long minutes, he couldn’t seem to collect his scattered thoughts, and the dancing lights across his vision made it difficult to focus.

“What happened?!”   A lady’s shrill cry echoed from what seemed a very long ways away.

“We’re not sure,” a man’s voice answered, sounding closer, but still muted and distant.

“It looks like they need help,” another voice spoke up, sounding young and frightened.

“I can’t get to them,” the first man spoke again.  “The horse won’t let me near them.” 

This statement was punctuated by an angry snort and the sound of hooves clattering against stone, followed by a shout of warning.

Legolas fought against his disorientation, blinking his eyes rapidly to bring his sight back into focus.  The first thing he saw was Gimli, lying motionless across his chest with an arrow protruding from his back.

His thoughts slammed painfully back into focus, and he let out a soft cry of alarm. Ignoring his own discomfort in his fear for his friend, he reached forward and gently shifted Gimli off of him.  Pushing himself up to his knees, he knelt over his friend’s prone form, a raging sea of emotion tearing through him.  Icy cold fear mixed oddly with a burning rage.

The arrow had buried itself deep about half way down Gimli’s back, close to his left side.  A crimson stain already ran down the dwarf’s tunic, and more blood seeped out from around the buried shaft, shimmering grotesquely in the morning sun.  Gimli’s breathing was ragged, his face pale and his eyes closed.

Legolas automatically reached for the arrow shaft, then drew back with a slight shake of his head.  The position of the arrow made it possible that the head could be caught in Gimli’s ribs.  Attempting to pull it out now, without a healer, could actually do more damage to his friend.

Legolas glanced up and immediately took in the large crowd of people surrounding him, their distance being kept by a very protective Shandarell.  He scanned over them quickly, then raised his eyes to the surrounding rooftops, his archer’s mind already having calculated the basic direction and height from which the arrow had to have come.

The rooftops were empty of any sign of movement, and Legolas swore softly, already knowing that the archer was long gone. 

A low moan caused his eyes to snap back down to Gimli, his face a mask of tension and worry as he watched the dwarf’s eyes flutter slightly.

“Hold on, Gimli,” Legolas whispered softly, reaching down and gently tracing his fingertips across his friend’s pale cheek.  “Hold on.  I am going to get you to help.”

Gimli did not respond, except to go completely limp once more.

With a surprisingly steady hand, Legolas reached forward and snapped off the shaft of the arrow, leaving only about two inches protruding from the dwarf’s back.  Gimli moaned again, and Legolas winced at the sound of his friend’s pain.  Quickly tearing a strip of cloth from his cloak, he wound it around the remaining shaft and pressed down as firmly as he could, hoping to quell the bleeding.

His actions were based completely on instinct now.  He knew that the full impact of what had happened would strike him later, along with all the pain, but for now, his entire focus was on saving Gimli.  Nothing else mattered, and he knew that if he was going to succeed, he had to block out all his emotions.  They would only get in the way right now.

Raising his head, he whistled Shandarell to him, already trying to figure out how he was going to get both he and Gimli onto the horses’ back.

“Let me help,” a kind voice spoke from the crowd, and Legolas turned as an older man stepped cautiously forward, he eyes watching Shandarell distrustfully.

Legolas recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had tried to reach him and Gimli before, but had been blocked by Shandarell.

“You can get on the horse, and I will pass the dwarf up to you,” the man suggested, taking another cautious step forward.

Legolas made a split second decision.  He nodded shortly, then turned and quickly swung up onto Shandarell’s back, turning back to watch the older man closely.

“Torin, come and help me,” the old man ordered, and a second later, a younger man stepped from the crowd and moved forward.  Together, they lifted Gimli as gently as possible into Legolas’ waiting arms.

“Thank you,” Legolas said softly, making sure that Gimli was held securely within his grasp.  The older man nodded, his face showing genuine concern.

Legolas turned Shandarell and urged him into an immediate gallop, charging forward through the streets toward the House of Healing.

TBC