Wounded Warrior (Legolas x OC) [COMPLETED]

Prologue

It was a clear day in Middle Earth; the best Rushil had seen in weeks. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby trees as she breathed in the fresh air with a grateful spirit. Here was where her heart belonged. Here in the mountains.

Rushil looked down into the valley below with a rush of triumph coursing through her veins. She was one with nature and a part of its power and glory.

The valley below was empty of life besides the trees that swayed gently in the breeze, appearing almost as the Ents once did in the ancient days. Behind her was her black stallion, Milgo, who thirstily drank from the current of a small stream. His master smiled as she stood beside him and gently stroked his neck.

"Nature is kind to us today, my friend," Rushil spoke the language of the elves gently to him. The words fell from her tongue like silk and Milgo lifted his head to nuzzle her shoulder. He was always calmed by the language and whinnied softly in pleasure.

However, it was not long before the peaceful scene was broken. Through the silence and across the valley came a sound more coarse than the silky elvish tongue. Only one creature could create that horrible shriek. One that was the most feared in all of Middle Earth.

Rushil hurriedly searched the glade below for the Ringwraiths she knew were nearby. At first, she saw a rider on a white horse galloping between the trees. Then, she noticed Dark Riders in hot pursuit.

In one fluid motion, Rushil swung nimbly into Milgo's saddle and dug her heels into the horse's ribs. Her fingers intertwined in his mane and they were off at a gallop, riding down the mountain swiftly toward the chase. Rushil reached her hand back into her quiver and pulled out an arrow as she rode. It easily rested under the nocking point of her bow as she drew back the string to aim true at the heart of a Ringwraith.

They came abreast of the pursued rider and Rushil carefully observed the victims. Between the rider's arms was a sagging body. It looked neither dead nor alive, but somewhere in between the two. The small creature was most likely a hobbit or dwarf, but Rushil was too far away to identity which. It was then that the rider looked at her and a flash of recognition passed between them. "Rushil," Arwen shouted in the elvish tongue, "what are you doing here?"

"Saving your elvish ears again," Rushil shouted back in reply, releasing the arrow from her bow.

The Ringwraith let out an ear-splitting shriek of pain and unsheathed its sword. It urged its horse to a faster speed, attempting to maintain a position beside Rushil to attack.

"Great," Arwen shouted, "now you made it angry."

"I think it is too late for that." Rushil avoided the Ringwraith and its swinging sword, riding farther to the left from Arwen.

The Ringwraith aimed for her neck and swung with enough force to sever her head from her body. With elvish reflexes, Rushil ducked and encouraged Milgo into a faster pace. She leaned down even closer to the horse's neck and they managed to race ahead of the Ringwraith.

Ahead was a river. Immediately, both riders knew this was to their advantage. Rushil reached the water first and rode into the current. She looked back to see Arwen follow her to the middle of the river where she turned her horse around to face the Ringwraiths. When the creatures reached the shore, their horses abruptly stopped before the current. They fidgeted anxiously on the wet sand as if afraid the water would burn their hooves.

What felt like a long moment of silence passed before one Ringwraith spoke in a foreign tongue Rushil had yet to fully learn. Among the words she understood were, "Give up the halfling, she-elf."

"If you want him," Arwen shouted, "come and claim him!"

At this challenge, the Ringwraiths drew their swords and burst into a gallop before they plunged into the water, their sights set on their prize. Rushil prepared her bow and arrow, but paused when she recognized Arwen was reciting a spell in the elvish tongue.

"Waters of the Misty Mountains, hear the word of power, rush, waters of Bruinen, against the Ringwraiths!"

Suddenly, the current increased and a wave of water rushed around the river bend, stampeding like stallions. The Ringwraiths' horses neighed in fear turned to gallop down the river, but the water overtook them and they were forced underwater.

From the opposite shore, Rushil and Arwen safety watched their opponents be swept away by the waters. They began to assume the worst was behind them when Arwen's passenger abruptly began gasping for air, struggling to maintain the amount of oxygen his body required. "Frodo!" Arwen lifted the body while sliding off her horse to set the creature on the shore. Rushil followed suite and bent over the body with Arwen. A hobbit.

"He was stabbed by a Morgul blade," Arwen said she desperately willed for him to continue living. "His life fades." It was clear that she was distressed at the thought of this hobbit's death. Some large responsibility rested on his shoulders and though Rushil didn't know what it was or its importance, she knew what had to be done.

"Arwen," Rushil looked at her friend who met her gaze as if to say a last farewell. She then looked down into the eyes of the creature and spoke a spell in the elvish tongue, "Whatever life this hobbit has left, let my life replenish his."

A few seconds passed as Rushil felt her energy drain from her body and her world darkened until she could see nothing.

"Rushil!" Arwen cried out as her friend fell limp to the ground. She bent over Rushil, knowing she had just given her life for the hobbit. With a grunt to accompany her effort, Arwen lifted Frodo onto her horse and lay him over the saddle on his stomach. "He should be fine in a few hours," she spoke aloud as if to the two horses, but perhaps it was more to re-assure herself than them. Milgo recognized something was wrong and nudged his master's head gently with his muzzle. He whinnied quietly when she remained still.

Arwen patted Milgo's neck and wished she could encourage him, but the situation appeared too dark. It was a daunting thought to realize that her closest friend gave her life for a hobbit she didn't even know. That was true courage. That was a true hero. All of Middle Earth would know the name of Rushil Laudbrim. Although Arwen knew her friend would have liked to remain anonymous, she deserved the recognition.

Arwen lifted Rushil's lifeless body and slumped it over Milgo's saddle, wrapping her limp arms around his neck and securing them with a piece of rope. She patted Milgo's neck one more time and placed her foot in her horse's stirrup to hoist herself up into the saddle. Between her arms rested Frodo who's breathing returned to normal. She grasped the reigns of the horse and spoke to Milgo as Rushil had done before, "follow me closely. We're going to Rivendell."