Okay. Yes. This has been done a MILLION times before. Legolas gets hurt! Humans find him! Angst and fluff pursues! I know, I know...

It doesn't make it any less fun to write (or read?) though! :)

So yeah! Here is my take on it! :) Hope you all enjoy!

Legolas is like, 13-14 (mentally/appearance) here.

...

The night was dark, still. The moon flickered in and out of the clouds, occasionally disappearing all together, leaving the world shrouded in shadows.

Travelling under the safety of darkness was a small entourage. The group held seven members, all cloaked and garbed in grey. They seemed to flit silently in and out of the shadows, disappearing only to reappear in a flitting glance of moonlight many paces away.

Their ears were pointed.

If a stranger were to notice them, they would be confused, for it almost appeared as if the soundless figures were reflecting the hidden light of the moon. Almost as if their skin shone with the very essence of the stars above…

But that would be impossible… right?

But no such stranger was hidden on those windblown plains. There was only the entourage and its silent cloaked members moving through the windy night, anxiously watching the sky as the storm blew in, shrouding them in further darkness and promising rain.

They were alone… until they were not.

There was a flash of lightning, brilliant and bright, and the rain started to fall with force. And with the thunder that sounded soon after came the roar of enemies and the pounding of heavy feet slamming onto the wet earth.

The Orcs had arrived.

The entourage, upon spotting the imposing battle, tightened their circle around their seventh member and broke off in a gallop, their horses panting and nickering under the heavy downfall.

But they had acted too late.

The orcs surrounded the small party, growling and jeering and clamoring for blood. Despite the odds, the entourage was not about to give up without a fight. They drew their weapons and threw back their hoods, corralling around the seventh and preparing for battle, willing to protect the final member to their last breath.

The seventh member was a young lad- his looks suggested one of thirteen or fourteen summers- with brilliant gold hair- now wet with rain- and large blue eyes. Upon his grey cloak he bore the symbol of the Elvenking of Mirkwood, and his face- though fair- was pinched in panic at the sight of swarms of orcs pouring into the plains.

He, too, drew his weapon of choice; a bow and arrow. His aim was steady and unfaltering despite his fear, and his icy orbs were alive with intelligence and adrenaline. He, too, was willing to fight till the end, but that would not be the case on this stormy night.

The signal was given, the arrows were shot, and the battle began.

The orcs were merciless and cruel, weapons slashing and guttural roars echoing in time with the thunder and lightning above. They came in swarms and fought without mercy, their only goal to spill as much blood as possible.

But the entourage was quick on their feet and flexible, dodging blows this way and that. They moved like shadows, fast and fleeting, and attacked with sharp, direct strikes that left many an orc dead before they realized what had happened.

But it would not be enough, the orcs were too many and the entourage too few, and eventually, one by one, they fell.

And then there were two, the young seventh member and the captain of the entourage. The captain was noble and wise, and upon seeing a break in the orcs, he swept his young charge up on his horse and took off in a gallop, making for the trees of the distant woods and leaving the bloody battlefield behind.

His duty was to protect the youth, and he was not about to fail.

The orcs gave chase, screaming at the loss of their victims.

But one orc, with a vicious and cruel smile, pulled out a crude bow. The archer hooked a black arrow, aimed, and- with a sadistic lick of his lips- fired.

His aim was true.

Lighting flashed.

With a stuttered groan, the captain leaned forwards, holding on for a few meager minutes as the horse galloped farther away from the evil that followed. But his grip could not last, and he slipped from the horse.

The poisoned arrow had reached his heart.

The young blonde, upon realizing the loss of his older companion, pulled the frightened horse to a stop. He leapt to the ground with a stifled sob, fear and panic blinding his judgement.

"Túron!"

Unheeding of the slick mud and pouring rain, nor the perilous danger he was in, the youth slid to his knees besides his fallen companion, grasping the cold, shaking hands tightly, as if through will alone he could make the old warrior stand again.

But the captain recognized the danger, could feel the thrumming of many feet as they marched closer and closer even as he felt his blood grow sluggish and cold, and was not about to let his charge die.

With his remaining strength, the dying warrior gave the small hand in his grasp a reassuring squeeze. Rasping his final breaths, he pushed himself up on his elbows to look the youth in the eye.

"Legolas! Legolas, you must ride! Think not of me, you must flee! Head to the forest; the trees shall shelter you!"

Legolas, for that was the young blonde's name, only squeezed harder, eyes wide with sorrow and panic and confusion. Everything had happened so fast, and he did not wish to leave his sole remaining friend behind. Did not want to be alone.

"No! Not without you! Túron, please, stay with me!"

And the Captain gasped, shaking and shuddering as he fought for more time in the mortal world.

"I- I can not. I would if I could, my prince, but there is no saving me now…"

The thunderous cries of the orcs grew near, and the first of them started to appear at the slope of the closest hill. Upon spotting their quarries, they shrieked in victory and picked up their paste, charging down the plains.

But Legolas paid them no heed.

Túron, with his last piece of strength, managed to mutter his dying word.

"Drego!"*

And then his breath caught in his chest, stealing its last stuttering movements. The wizened warrior's eyes turned upwards, to the rolling thunder clouds above, and for a moment the moon shined freely, casting a ghostly glow to the saddened scene even as the stars twinkled far above.

And with a last faltering breath, he was gone.

Legolas cried out in anguish for- despite his youth- he knew of such terrible loss. With his tears mingling with the still pouring rain, he reached out with shaking fingers and closed his companion's eyes, so that he might rest in peace.

But there was no time for anything else, for the orcs were upon him, and so the youth- with one last mumbled goodbye- leapt to his feet and raced to his horse. He would not let his friend's sacrifice be in vain. Would not let the death of any of the warriors be in vain.

The horse reared and started galloping to the woods beyond, Legolas hunched low on it's back against the pouring rain.

But he had let the orcs come to close, and the vile black arrows started to fly once more. The forest was just starting to loom in close when one struck true, killing the loyal steed with a final, desperate shriek and sending Legolas flying.

The blonde landed in a heap- his right ankle twisted in an awkward, painful way underneath him- sorely bruising his back and leaving him breathless, but soon enough he was back on his feet, now running to the trees in a last, desperate dash, ignoring the blinding waves of suffering that coursed through his injured ankle.

The orcs gave chase.

Legolas suddenly screamed and dropped down in agony, a black arrow embedded in his side. Gasping and shuddering in pain, the blonde grasped the shaft and tugged it out with a single jagged yank. Blood immediately started pouring from the wound, mingling with the trickling streams of water, but the youth only gritted his teeth and pressed a hand tightly down on it before standing up and breaking into a run once more.

For Túron, he thought, For Túron, and all the rest.

Finally, panting and shaking from exertion, he reached the woods. He reached up, as if trying to grasp the stars, and a sturdy thick vine curled down from the closest tree and wrapped around it.

Branches all around him lowered themselves closer to the ground, and he nimbly stepped onto them, following the leafy path until he was well hidden in the thick foliage of the trees.

He could hear the whispering voices of his green companions surrounding him, telling him that he would not be safe there, even hidden in their bows. Could hear of their concern and worry, could hear their hissing anger towards the orcs.

Every movement hurt- his muscles straining from exhaustion and pain- his vision was wavering, and all he truly wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry over the loss of his companions, but he dared not. He knew that if he sat down he would probably not have the strength to stand again, and so he pressed on, following the leafy trail through the trees.

Several times he was forced to stop, both because of his failing health and fear of being spotted by the orcs, who patrolled the earth below, snarling for blood.

But he could only go on for so long, and eventually he succumbed to his injuries, dropping into the crook of a tree and unable to take another step.

The trees around him crooned in worry and concern and he wished to comfort them, but he had not the strength. His vision was encroached by darkness, and he knew no more.

The trees maneuvered themselves to provide better protection around their precious charge- both from the still pouring rain and the prying eyes below- wrapping him in layers upon layers of foliage. We will keep him safe, they whispered, We will protect him.

The trees reached out, calling their concern to the winds of the world, calling for help and of their vows, warning all who would listen on their intent.

And if many an orc died that night under their boughs… well, no one was there to see.

And Legolas stayed still, bleeding and pale, and slept in their arms.

And around them all, the storm raged on.

Johan was getting on in his years, grey starting to speckle his beard and hair and wrinkles starting to line his face. His old bones were still strong though, and he could still get a good buck or two whenever he went out hunting.

He was getting old, didn't mean he was getting useless.

As it was, hunting had been poor that night. It always was when the big storms came. He had managed to grab a couple of hares, though, and some of those herbs Kaylyn- his wonderful wife of twenty-two years- loved so much, which would be more than enough for the night's stew.

He hefted the traps higher on his shoulder, double checked the meat hanging on his belt, and continued on through the pouring rain.

The wind was howling fiercely, almost sounding as if some ethereal being was throwing a fit, and the downpour appeared to be only getting thicker as the night wore on. Johan was looking forward to getting home to his warm, dry cottage, just on the outskirts of town.

He was especially looking forward to the stew.

Suddenly, he heard something.

The man frowned, standing still and straightening as to better hear over the storm. He was almost sure he had heard a soft noise of pain coming from off the track, but the thundering and howling wind made it difficult to be positive.

Again he heard the sound, and this time he was almost sure it was there. He wondered if it was an animal, caught in a trap and crying out in its agony.

He frowned.

Johan had always hated how some hunters purposely made their traps as painful as possible, finding it sickening and cruel. Personally, he had always tried to make the deaths of his kill as quick and as painless as possible, but some men were not so kind…

Again he heard it, and that was what made up his mind.

Tentatively, he stepped off the path and into the shrouded woods beyond, eyes scanning the shadows in search for a glint of metal or the flash of an eye.

Nothing.

He was about to give up and head back to the trail when something happened.

The trees, as if they had planned their actions in the timing of the howling wind, suddenly moved. Johan watched in a terrified awe as the branches whirled and swirled a part, suddenly becoming less of a thick dense and opening out.

Johan hadn't even realized that the foliage had been providing shelter from the rain until heavy drops started to spatter upon his head once more.

All thoughts of rain, however, fled his mind when he spotted the figure the trees had revealed.

It was a child.

Not a particularly young child, but a child nonetheless. A girl, judging by the long hair, curled up high above Johan, sheltered in the branches.

Anxious for the girl's health, he placed down his wares.

"Hello!? Are you alright!? Can you hear me!?"

The child shifted, but did not respond.

Johan frowned.

Kaylyn and Johan had never managed to have children, it was something they had long ago accepted, but he was a kind, caring man that loved youngsters despite his inability to have any of his own. He would never just leave a child alone, especially if they seemed to be in trouble.

And so he tried again.

"HELLO!?"

The child jerked roughly, startled, and fell off the branch. There was a scream, but it was abruptly cut off, presumably because the youth had hit her head. Johan's eyes widened as he watched the limp figure fall, and he dashed to catch her.

When he did catch her, he almost fell as well. Not because she was heavy, but because the body was far lighter than he expected it to be, almost weighing nothing at all.

Gently, Johan placed the unconscious child on the semi dry ground, not noticing how the trees curled around them and provided shelter from the rain once more. He hissed when he noticed the blood staining the kid's tunic and the multitude of scratches and and bruises painting her arms.

But when he carefully drew back the child's long golden hair, he got the largest shock of all.

For the blonde was not a girl, but a boy.

But that was not what made him jerk back, fearful surprise radiating him in waves.

No, it was the single, delicately pointed ear.

...

Soooooo? What didya think? Good? Bad? Okay? I'm curious! (Especially because I really am not an OC kind of person and they are surprisingly difficult to write? Have any suggestions on that?)

Either away, I hope you all enjoyed! I'll post the next chapter sooner or later...

Reviews are loved and deeply appreciated, as are Favorites and Follows! :) But the best thing of all is the fact that you took the time to read at all! YOU ARE AWESOMEEEEEE!

Till next time! :D

-Mashpotatoe Queen