The Outrider // LOTR & LEGOLAS

{6} 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔡

And another update to this book even though I don't have readers and I need to update my other books
For the like three people that read this book, this one's for you :)

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"Stars are only visible in darkness
Fear is ever-changing and evolving
And I, I feel poison inside,
And I, I feel so alive"
•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•

{6} Blond

Legolas had never experienced fever dreams before, though if he were to guess, they were probably along the lines of what he was undergoing at the moment.

It had been a painstakingly long eight days since the fight at Raudhparan, and Legolas' poor state was plenty enough to show it. He had long since slipped into delirium and, if asked, probably could not even tell you where they were.

Fortunately, they were still on the path to Imladris, and for that he probably had Nimaethor to thank, but that was about all that he was sure of. Whether it was morning or evening, he could not tell, nor could he remember exactly how many days he had been traveling for. All that he could decipher was the splotches of green, blue, and brown that blurred his vision, presumably meaning that he was wandering in a forest somewhere.

The cursed dagger was still lodged deep into his side, though the vast majority of the bleeding had finally stopped. Thanks to his lack of foresight and good planning, Legolas had managed to bring inadequate resources to treat a wound of such magnitude. Therefore, that left him with the only choice of hastily finishing the trip to Imladris, where there would certainly be medicines and elven healers that could restore his health.

That plan had also failed him several days ago when Nimaethor had made the judgment to not travel any faster than a slow, smooth jog. Any pace faster than that was simply too difficult for Legolas to maintain balance with in his poor condition, whether the Wood-elf was alert enough to realize it or not. Nimaethor's jogging gait, however, was so incredibly smooth that it felt as though the horse was walking.

If Legolas' sight hadn't been so obscured, then he would've been able to see the inky, sickly-looking veins that branched across his skin. This was even after fetching several herbs and applying them in a thick paste to the wound a multitude of times several days ago, hinting at just how potent the poison that the dagger had been laced with was. And, since it was affecting an elf such as him so severely, he could only assume that the blade had struck a major vein or artery, causing him to be grateful that he hadn't immediately pulled the dagger from his torso.

"Nimaethor," he weakly murmured. If it wasn't for the fact that his companion was one of the elven horses, who were known for their sensitive hearing, then his words most likely would've been lost to the breeze. "If I fall, continue on. Find help for either me or yourself."

The horse's ivory ears swiveled back and forth at the sound of Legolas' waning voice. It did not take long after the Wood-elf mumbled his instructions for him to cease moving and sitting upright.

While Nimaethor slowed and attempted to walk carefully so as to not jostle his unconscious rider, it was only a matter of time before Legolas lost balance and slid from his horse's back. The horse drew to a stop and turned to the fallen elf who remained motionless on the ground. For a moment, Nimaethor even thought that Legolas had died, but was reassured otherwise when he noticed the Wood-elf's chest slowly rise up and down. He was mumbling something, but it was far past the point of being coherent.