NOTE: Everything that is from and/or in Middle Earth is J.R.R. Tolkien’s (with the exception of Meldiron and Maeron) and everthing from and/or in Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis.

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Two figures rode on horse back, a man and an elf, talking and laughing with each other. One was Legolas Greenleaf, elven prince of Mirkwood, the other, Strider, ranger of the north. Although Strider looked very travel worn as any ranger would, he was of the noblest heritage, for he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor. Orphaned at childhood, he was taken in by Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Although he was the heir to the lost line of kings, to his adoptive father, Elrond, his adoptive twin brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, and all his closest of friends, he went by the name of Estel, meaning hope. Legolas and Aragorn had been on many adventures together, time after time finding their way back to either Mirkwood, or mainly Rivendell, to be patched up by Mirkwood’s healers or Lord Elrond, who was a great healer known to nearly all Middle-earth.

After quite a bit of talking, Legolas stopped his horse. Aragorn looked back at his elven friend as his smile faded.

“Legolas?” his brow creased, “What is wrong, mellon nin? (my friend)” Legolas lifted his hand to signal his friend to be silent. Legolas dismounted and looked around, whispering almost too quiet to hear, “Something is wrong, the forest is too quiet…” He trailed off and got quieter and just stood there for a moment listening. Then he abruptly whipped out his bow and an arrow.

“Yrch! (orcs!)” At the warning Aragorn whispered something into his horse’s ear and dismounted. His horse ran off after his master had dismounted, Legolas’ horse followed. Aragorn watched them for only a moment and then unsheathed his sword.

Just then, a huge mass of orcs came out of the forest, heading straight for Aragorn and Legolas, and they didn’t look as if they were going to slow down any time soon.

“Well, I suppose we just found our next adventure, mellon nin,” Legolas said as his eyes widened at the amount of orcs they were up against.

“I suppose so,” Aragorn said, seeing the same picture as Legolas.

“Then let it be like the rest of our adventures, they die, we go home,” Legolas said as he got ready to aim. Aragorn looked at his friend

“Injured,” he added to his friend’s statement. Legolas fired and hit his opponent on the throat, felling him.

“Yes well they still die,” he said as he knocked another arrow. Aragorn did not answer but smiled wryly and charged into the mass of orcs; all that got in his way, died. Twirling, Aragorn sliced all the orcs around him, stabbing one that came from the side, he turned around to see a tall orc with an axe inches away from Aragorns head, but it did not move, instead it fell to the ground with a thud, an elven arrow between its shoulder blades. Aragorn looked up to see Legolas looking at him, and he gave his friend a grateful nod and resumed fighting.

Legolas went to draw an arrow, but in its place drew out air; finding that all his arrows were spent, he put away his bow and unsheathed his knives, looking for a good target. His head quickly turned to his left, an orc started to charge him, but before it was even halfway there, it was on the ground, a white handled knife protruding from its dead form.

Legolas retrieved his knife as he passed his dead opponent, only to throw it into another when he got a clear shot.

Legolas fought and fought, until the orcs’ numbers seemed to be dwindling, but then he spun around to see Aragorn on his knees, gasping for breath, an arrow imbedded his left shoulder. All he could do was stare at his friend not paying heed to anything else around him. As reality hit him like a bucket of ice dropped over his head, an orc slammed its balled fist and forearm into the prince, doubling him over and sending his head into a large rock, knocking him unconscious.

For Aragorn everything seemed to go in slow motion, he turned right into the path of an orc arrow that sent a searing pain through his body and knocked the wind out of him. He fell on his knees, trying to catch his breath, and then he saw Legolas spin around, and lock eyes with him, he tried to tell Legolas of the orc heading for him but it was almost like Legolas couldn’t hear him, only a second later Legolas was lying limp across a large rock, a bloody cut across his right temple.

Aragorn felt a rush of air near him and turned around a fraction of a second before an orc-crafted hilt was swung across his head leaving him on the ground unconscious.

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Legolas awoke, his head throbbing and his ears ringing. After recovering a little from his head ache, he looked around. Where in all of Arda was he?

“Strider? Aragorn?!” He started to get worried; there was snow all around him, and he did not recognize the sounds of this forest. He turned around, jerking at every noise like it was some creature that wanted to kill him. He had his bow, and somehow all his arrows, although some needed new fletching. His knives, some food, and a change of clothes. But something still puzzled him. if he and Aragorn had been fighting a band of orcs, then why were there no bodies? Why was Estel gone? Why was it snowing in the middle of summer?

“Estel!” Legolas had to find his friend, if he was here anyway. He was injured, probably unconscious too. He could never last over an hour like that in this weather. Legolas stood as still as he possibly could, he listened intently. He had to find Estel.

“Legolas, I’m over here!” came the muffled reply. It was too quiet for the human ear, but Legolas, being an elf, heard it loud and clear. He rushed over to a pile of snow and saw the corner of Aragorn’s overcoat and started to dig through the snow, prepared for the worst. Once he was uncovered, Aragorn spat out some snow from his mouth and started to dust himself off. Legolas watched him for a moment and then looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Legolas? is something wrong?” Aragorn returned Legolas’ stare with concern.

“You were shot in the shoulder. You shouldn’t be able to move your arm that well,” Legolas replied quietly. Realization dawned on Aragorn and he looked down at his shoulder. He unbuttoned part of his tunic revealing his shoulder, on which only a healing scar remained. Although puzzled about how this could be possible, he shook it off, glad to be rid of the pain. Legolas kept looking at his friend for a while, and then a thought came to him. He walked over to a large slab of ice and looked at his reflection. Sure enough the cut on his head was no longer there, and there was no sign that it ever was. He smiled to himself and turned back to Aragorn who was also smiling. He helped Aragorn up and then slung his pack over his shoulder, and his quiver and knives over the other.

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Legolas ran his fingers over the fletching on one of his arrows, and soon his serious face was replaced with one of amusement. Aragorn stood in front of him, oblivious to the prince’s stare, spinning around in circles, making sure his sword and everything that went in his pack and were there. But apparently he was having a difficult time finding his knife which was on the ground in front of him. Legolas cleared his throat and caught the ranger’s attention. Aragorn looked up at the prince and Legolas redirected his eyes to the knife on the ground. Aragorn followed his friend’s gaze, and then picked up his knife and sheathed it. He looked at Legolas, a very embarrassed smile on his face. Legolas just shook his head and went back to what he was doing. After a few moments though, both their heads shot up; there were people nearby, they both could hear their voices. Legolas nodded his head toward a large pine they could climb, Aragorn started climbing, and Legolas put away his arrow and easily swung up in the tree and helped Aragorn up onto a strong branch. He held his bow tightly, ready to knock an arrow. Legolas then looked over to his right where Aragorn was settling on a branch, his left hand resting on his hilt.

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This is my first fanfic and I would LOVE reviews!