Disclaimer: Only borrowing Tolkien’s characters for my fantasy.

It happened quickly. One moment he was on his feet, sending an arrow into an Orc's heart, the next he was tumbling down on to the ground when he lost his footing. A red, intense pain sliced through his knee, and while burying a tip of his arrow's in an Orc's eye socket, he looked down to assess the injury. White, shattered bone shone from the blood covered flesh and, reeling, he managed to pull himself into the cover of a tree that would hopefully hide him from the Orc's searching eyes.

Aragorn led the rest of the Fellowship away from the Orcs, never realizing he had lost one member in the heat of the battle. Legolas drew in a deep breath and managed to ignore the stabbing pain as he crept toward the entrance of a cave to his right. Maybe he would be lucky and the Orcs would forget about him. Pleased, he noticed that the cave went deep underground; it was a perfect hiding place where he could recuperate. Hopefully Aragorn would track him down once the Man realized what had happened. If not, he might be able to defend the narrow cave's entrance against intruders by himself.

The blood left a distinct trial on the damp earth, but he didn't have the time nor the energy to hide his tracks. Creeping deeper down in to the bowels of Middle Earth, he finally collapsed in a heap. The pain in his leg overwhelmed him, causing him to lose consciousness. Legolas' eyes turned blank and his breathing grew shallow as he slipped into a deep, black, sleep.

       

A hungry growl emanated from deep within his throat. The scent of blood was strong and invaded his nostrils. Drawing in the slightly metallic scent, he ventured deeper in to the cave. He moved cautiously, and although his bulky body mass suggested otherwise, he could sneak close without giving himself away. Instinctively he followed the scent and he hid in the shadows of the cave when he located a fallen form in one of the corners.

Soundlessly he sneaked closer. The first thing he noticed was the beautiful, almost silver like hair that flowed down the stranger's back. He approached slowly, realizing the stranger was either asleep or unconscious. Encouraged he sat on his heels, trying to steal a look at the stranger's face. Cocking his head, he sniffed the air, inhaled the scent once more and carefully poked the stranger's shoulder.

He didn't get a reaction and he poked once more, harder this time. A soft moan echoed through the cave, but the figure remained motionless. Satisfied that the stranger was unconscious, he pushed against the other man's shoulders, hoping the face would be revealed.

He gently pushed the silvery hair aside and growled, finding pointed ears beneath his fingertips. An Elf! The stranger was a Firstborn! Momentarily confused, he looked over his shoulder at the entrance of the cave; maybe he should leave before the Elf woke and questioned him, but the metallic scent of blood stopped him. His eyes scanned the Elf's handsome features and suddenly he stared in to blank blue eyes. Ah, he remembered now... Elves slept with their eyes open.

Curiously, his fingers traveled down the Elf's face, throat, chest, leg, until they encountered bare bone. He hissed sharply, realizing the Elf was severely injured. He couldn't leave now, as he was unable to turn his back on someone in need. The Elf shivered, mumbled something intelligible and then moaned once more. The stranger's fair features contracted in pain, urging him in to action. Fire, they needed fire; the Elf needed to stay warm.

Next he needed to attend to the wound. Dark blood dripped from white bone. Repairing the damage would require force and skill. He had to maneuver the bone back in to the right position and then he would splint it. That meant he needed wood for fire and a few branches for the splint.

Gently, he maneuvered the Elf into a lying position, but the injured leg remained twisted. Wood, wood and branches, he needed those first!

He walked over to the entrance of the cave, ventured outside, and while ignoring the rain and blazing gale, he collected all the wood he needed. Making a fire would be difficult while the wood remained wet, but he had to try.

He returned to the Elf, sat down cross-legged and began to build the fire. It took him several minutes to get the fire going, but in the end the flame blazed strongly.

Looking at the branches that remained, he selected two to act as a splint. He moved closer to the Elf, wondering how the beautiful creature had gotten injured. He was about to examine the injured leg when a pair of sapphire blue eyes stared at him in shock.

       

It was the presence of a gentle warmth that urged him to return to consciousness. Still fighting the dazzling pain, he managed to lift his eyes. He sucked in his breath, finding an Uruk-Hai close and staring back at him. The red and white paint on the dark skin had lost some of its intensity when it had been exposed to the rain, but the creature still looked intimidating. The long, dark hair framed forceful features and a pair of probing black eyes stared back at him.

Legolas suddenly realized he was holding his breath, and he released it with a sigh. Only now did he recognize the creature in front of him. The Fellowship had fought him and his men not so long ago. Lurtz, the leader of the fighting Uruk-Hai, sat on his heels next to him. His luck had run out. Lurtz would slowly kill him and the foul creature would most certainly enjoy seeing him suffer. Staring at his leg, he realized that fleeing wasn't an option. Lurtz was in control and all Legolas could do was hope that the Uruk-Hai would tire of him eventually. Maybe then the Uruk-Hai would kill him quickly.

Defiantly he met Lurtz's eyes, never begging for mercy and expecting the worst.

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