Within Dreams [A Legolas love story]

The Issue with Arrows

Gilron groaned and tried to roll over, unsuccessfully.

Faeldring and Legolas eased him onto the ground, careful not to catch the long shaft of the arrow on the saddlebags of the horse.

"What happened?" Maldor asked, rummaging through one of his bags with hurried efficiency.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and looked behind him before answering.

"It seemed to be some sort of goblin exile." he said, tearing up strips of linen. "Will you start a fire?"

I nodded. 

"How do you know?" I asked, making a circle of lichen encrusted rocks and piling the interior with thin, wispy grasses.

Legolas glanced at me distractedly. "At this point, I'm not sure," he answered. "It couldn't have been an orc, because it was more like a goblin, shorter, but with more hair. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't anything I've ever seen."

"But this is a black arrow," Faewyn confirmed, glaring at the tarry black shaft which protruded from Gilron's back.

Legolas nodded. "I saw the same one in the warg carcass a few miles back."

I turned towards the small flame that had started and shuddered. I looked at my shaking hands, pale in the daylight. 

I inhaled and closed my eyes, willing myself to stop panicking and do something to help. How did elves stay so level headed all the time?

 It was just another affirmation that I was not, would never be, like them.

 "Gia?" Legolas asked, coming to kneel beside me. "Are you well?"

 "Fine," I said. "Lucky Maldor found athelas."

 "Lucky you weren't with me," he answered, turning back towards his fallen comrade.

I heard Gilron groan slightly as Maldor gently pulled at the arrow.

 "It is as I feared," he said, pulling out a small knife, "The arrowhead is barbed."

 "You don't have to pull it out," Gilron remarked in a pained voice, slightly muffled.

 "Of course we have to pull it out," Faewyn said, crossly. "It's probably poisoned."

 "Hannon le," he sighed sarcastically. "Fine, do it then."

 I finally turned around to see Faewyn wand Maldor bending over Gilron. Legolas was holding one of his own arrows and wearing a pained expression.

 "Gianna, is the fire hot yet?" He asked instantly, as if he were waiting for me to turn around.

 "It should be," I said, adding a few more twigs.

 The fire crackled appreciatively.

 "Do any of you have a míthril dagger?" Faeldring asked hopefully.

 "My knives are míthril," Legolas intoned, "But you can't really cut out things with them, they're too long."

 "Wait, what?" I said, realizing finally why I was stroking a fire in the middle of the day.

 Legolas looked at me.

 "We have to cut it out, Gianna," he said, with a concerned look at Gilron, who was looking paler by the second.

 "Will he be alright?" I asked, walking to stand over by Legolas.

 "Yes, hopefully, if we do it now," he said.

 Maldor pulled out a short dagger from his belt. "This one has a míthril core," he said. "It should do."

 "You can use Almiraë," I suggested, unsheathing my own knife. It was more like a dagger, almost. I had forgotten at this point that it was, in fact, made of míthril.