Three Arrows and an Elf

A short note: Hey, this is me with my new story, a shortish one based on references made in Hunt Not So Simple. Um…for those of you who are reading that story; it's been put on hold…just for a little while, mind, until exams are over. This one I have had written for a little while now, and thought I would like to share it. I am not a doctor, and never claimed to be...I don't know if surviving something like this is humanly (or elvishly) possible. I will pretend it is for the purposes of this story, and please don't flame me if your medical knowledge is better than mine. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Any elvish translations will be at the end of the chapter. Thoughts are in italics. I haven't really written angst before, so I don't know if it is any good, but here it is anyways! Please enjoy and let me know what you thought…but be gentle, I'm just starting out!

Disclaimer: These characters belong to the wonderful and incredibly talented J.R.R Tolkien, and I just…use them…(coughs).

Chapter One

Legolas turned around and found himself directly in the line of three arrows. He heard Elladan cry out his name, and saw Elrohir bash several Orcs in the head to try and get a clear shot at the Orc archers. But neither was to any avail, as time stood still for Legolas. The soft scent of the woodland forest was the last breath he took before the arrows slammed into his body.

There was just a burst of pain before total numbness took over his awareness. Knees collapsing, Legolas knelt on the ground, dumbly looking at the three protrusions from his chest. He knew one had pierced his lung…and yet he found he was very calm about it. No pain whatsoever penetrated Legolas' consciousness as he continued to stare at the growing blood stains on his tunic. The velvet green was turning an ugly dark colour.

He looked up. The battle seemed to be abating, and the twins prevailing, urged on by the sight of their best friend slowly choking to death…for that is what was happening. Legolas felt his breathing shallow and hitch. With what remaining mind he had, he assessed his injuries. Pierced lung from one arrow will likely be the death of me, Legolas thought. Yet there is no pain. He felt himself sinking as a blurry person knelt in front of him, gently holding his shoulders so he did not fall forward and push the arrows all the way through.

"Legolas?" A panicked voice broke through his consciousness and he was harshly jerked back to reality by a stinging slap on the face. He suspected it was meantto bring him back, but he felt himself sinking deeper."Legolas, just stay with me, it will be all right, just stay awake, that's it…"

Unheeding the pleading tone of the voices, Legolas felt his mind shutting down and he ignored the identical cries for him to hold on. He succumbed to the darkness and felt, saw and heard no more.


"Ada! Ada! Ada!" Panicked cries echoed through the halls of Imladris, drowning out the mid meal din from the dining hall. People got up from their seats as Elrond's twins ran through the doors, Elrohir cradling the Mirkwood prince and Elladan crying out for his father.

Elrond rose from his chair, dropping his glass of water on the table, unheeding as the clear liquid spilt over the tablecloth. He ran to his sons, fearing the worst. Reaching the prince, he only had to look once at the broken off shafts before turning swiftly on his heel.

"Come!" His voice was harsh as he fled down the hallways, getting there seconds before Elrohir. When the younger twin hurried in cradling Legolas, Elrond had gone to a bed in a private room of the healing chambers, and had armfuls of bandages brought. A healing assistant was already concocting potions and poultices that he knew would be needed, and smell of athelas had invaded the room.

Elrohir laid Legolas on the bed, stepping back as Elrond, having rinsed his hands, began to cut away the prince's tunic and undershirt, completely removing the top part of the elf's clothing. Elladan removed the younger elf's boots, leaving Legolas only in leggings. Elrond stopped his ministrations once this had been accomplished and looked at Legolas for a minute. Then he sterilised a knife by holding it in a lit candle.

Before he began to cut, Estel ran into the room. A young lad of fourteen, he was a much-valued assistant in the healing chambers, and he gasped at the sight of his beloved Legolas. Deciding questions could wait, he moved to the head of the bed, taking one of Legolas's hands in his own. He began to soothingly talk to the prince, even as his eyes welled with tears at the sight of his life long friend.

"I need to operate to get the arrows out. His lung is pierced. Legolas is not in a very deep sleep, and this will probably rouse him. I cannot give him anything for the pain, it is too risky at this precarious time." Elrond sighed and looked at his youngest. "I will be surprised if he makes it, Estel."

Estel nodded once and squeezed Legolas's hand. He began to talk once more, and when Elrond pressed the knife and made the required incisions, Legolas opened his eyes at the contact of the slightly warmed blade. Blue orbs were wide with pain, and tears leaked out unconsciously when his senses registered the agony he was in. Every once in a while, he would make an unearthly sound – half scream and half groan. His breathing grew erratic and he began to gasp. His lungs were collapsing and his breathing hitched. He could not breathe…

Legolas groaned and gasped as he struggled to take breath in. Elrond steadfastly ignored it, although tears were threatening to blur his vision. Pushing feeling inside, his voice joined Estel's as they whispered meaningless words as he worked. Elladan held Legolas's other hand and Elrohir wiped away the blood as Elrond worked on stitching the wounds.

"The arrows are out. The lung is sutured. Estel, put your mouth over Legolas' and breathe into it."

Estel looked at his father, shocked. Never had Elrond asked anyone, ever to do that. Dire circumstances, Estel thought.

"Estel! Do as Ada said!" Elrohir's voice was sharp as he noticed that Legolas's breaths were very few, with too many pauses. The blood flow was slowing down as each wound was sutured, but Legolas had turned extremely pale, from the pain, blood loss and lack of oxygen.

As Elladan looked up from petting Legolas' hand and monitoring his pulse, he looked at his younger human brother. The lad was extremely adept at the healing arts…but something like this…

He need not have worried. Estel had taken to the task diligently and Legolas' breathing was starting to even out, losing the erratic quality it had had. Every five seconds without fail, Legolas' chest moved up and down. His eyes were open, but they had a faraway look to them…almost as if he was not in the room. Consciousness was slipping away from him, and as Elrond snipped off the last suture, Elladan put a cup of sleeping herb in front of Legolas' lips.

Estel ever so gently moved Legolas' head upwards and the cup was tilted so the herbal drink ran down the injured elf's throat. Legolas' eyes closed, and he fell deep into slumber.


A/N - please let me know what you think!