The Exile's Daughter

Bubbling Over

It must have been less than two minutes before I regained consciousness. The contents of my skull felt like liquid, and my vision was alarmingly blurry. Dimly I recognised the lanky figure of Mallor. He seemed to have got himself out of trouble, but the orcs were gaining a foothold once more. I blinked a few times to clear my vision, then sat up, screwing my eyes shut as the world spun and opening them when it had steadied somewhat.

Legolas lay at Mallor's feet. The blood patch had grown to cover almost half of his left thigh and half of the crossbow bolt lay, snapped and bloody, a foot away. My heart plummeted to see him down. Two elves injured, and a 16-year old boy defending us. It was not to be allowed. I stood, and stumbled over to Mallor. Luck was on our side, for only 6 orcs were left for us to kill.

They balked when they saw me stand, gritting my teeth, and took a step back from the boy, so he was no longer surrounded. Even so Mallor did most of the work, killing four while I only managed two. 

As soon as my last enemy fell with a deep wound from his neck to his naval, I turned, trying not to stumble, and knelt beside Legolas. He was barely conscious, and his face was utterly white, his breathing shallow and difficult. I stared at him blankly. He was ever the supporter of his friends, the consummate warrior, the hope on the darkest of days. I could not accept his grievous hurt. It was supposed to be me. I wished it was me.

Mallor laid a cautious hand on my upper arm. "You are hurt too." I shrugged him off.

"Strider and the twins are close. Find them and bid them hasten. Legolas needs urgent care."

"What about you?"

Turning, I gripped Mallor's shoulder. His youth struck me in that moment. He looked no more than a frightened child; a witness to a terrible accident. I rubbed my thumb along his bony shoulder reassuringly. "I cannot run for them, Mallor. I have to stay with Legolas and see if I can begin to heal him. Don't worry about me, just tell them they must help him".

Mallor hesitated for a second, but he looked down at Legolas and the sight seemed to strengthen his resolve. Without another word he ran off, jumping over the bodies of the orc pack as he went. His long, pounding footsteps faded quickly, even to my ears.

My insides froze when I looked at Legolas, and I reached into my pack, which I had somehow kept hold of through the whole battle, fumbling with a knife and using the handle to dig the rest of the bolt carefully out of his wound, avoiding blood vessels and tendons. He gave a shuddering moan, far quieter than I liked. There was a gush of blood as soon as the metal tip was removed. I gulped, forcing my terror down, then tied a strip of linen tightly around the wound and poured my water over my hands, shakily washing off the blood and wiping my hands on my trousers.

"Legolas?" I muttered, crawling towards his head and stroking back his soft hair. I felt my eyes watering as he reached out a trembling hand.

"Ness", he gasped, grabbing blindly into the space between us for my hand and squeezing it tightly. "Thank the Valar you found us."

His fingertips were cold. My stomach dropped. I ran my other hand soothingly through his hair again. "You're nearly home now. I will look after you."

"I know you will". Legolas prised his eyes open with effort and attempted a smile. He was trying to reassure me, but he was paler than I had ever seen him, and his teeth were chattering noisily. I forced my fear to the back of my mind. "Where is Mallor?" His eyes were roaming the space around me, wide with fear.

"He has gone to get help."

"His poor mother will worry. I must look after him, he's only a boy."