What The Actual? (LotR x Reader)

Not more Running

Legolas and Gimli broke through the trees, as Aragorn examined Boromir as he hanged by a thread, hoping he could heal him in time, while Legolas looked at you, and quickly moved forward with unhidden worry.

"You have been shot."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," You said, wincing, and he crouched down behind you, observing the wound. It was not deep, nor in a fetal position, but the arrows of Orcs would likely cause infection if not treated. He looked at Aragorn while you loudly wallowed in self pity. Why couldn't you have gotten shot in the foot, or the ass, or--better yet why couldn't Legolas have been shot instead?

This was ridiculous. You should drag that Uruk's body all the way to the Necromancer, get him to bring him back to life, just so you could kill him again.

"We need to go back to Lothlorien," Legolas said, but Aragorn only sighed, trying to think of what to do.

"We do not have the time--"

"Have no fear, the ass-saver is here." You all turned to see the proud Elf you met at Lothlorien folding his arms, nodding curtly to Gimli as he passed. Odd, an Elf who respected Dwarves. The best kind. He lowered down to the ground and literally pushed by Aragorn, removing a pouch from his belt. "After you departed, the lady sent me out to follow you until you left her domain. She believed you were going to need my assistance before then, I guess she was correct." He glanced at you as he set the herbs aside, and blinked momentarily.

"There is an arrow in your shoulder."

"Wow Aragorn you were right, keen are the eyes of the Elves." Gimli might have laughed if he wasn't so distraught about the Hobbits, they were all he could think about.

Coolio just nodded weirdly, and looked back at Boromir, while the three hunters shared a look of, what's going on who invited him? A look you got anytime you went anywhere really.
"T-They took the little on-ones." Boromir said to Aragorn, jaw clenched as the Lothlorien Elf gripped the arrow at the head, looking at him. "I'm going to pull it out on three," he was probably not going to pull it out on three. Which is really stupid if you think about it, because by now everyone expects it to be pulled out on two, the whole take you by surprise method so outdated.

"The arrow is the only thing keeping his lung from collapsing," Legolas said, eyes focused on Boromir as well. There was a wrinkle between his brows as he silently preyed he would be alright.

Coolio shot him a look. "Oh? Would you like to do it then? No? Okay, then let me do my thing and you can do yours." You snorted.

"One--" He yanked it out easily and Boromir let out a wheeze of air, and the Elf spat into his hand, grinding the herbs as Aragorn cut open the front of Boromir's tunic, the paste shoved over his mangled flesh as he hovered his hands. His eyes seemed to glow a pale green, and he began to mutter in something neither Aragorn nor Legolas understood.

You looked to him, the language so similar yet so different from Sindarin.

"What is that?" Legolas didn't tear his eyes away.

"Noldorin." He said, brows furrowed. It has not been spoken by any other than the high Elves of old--and this odd, almost childish Elf could not possibly be one of those. But he spoke in peculiar ways, he sounded a lot like, well, you. He did not trust it.

While he worked, Gimli watching in mild shock, while Aragorn looked back at you, his soft voice stern.

"I need to remove the arrow from your shoulder."

You shook your head. "Um, no, I like it right here." Legolas squinted. "You cannot keep an arrow in your shoulder, you may lose your arm in infection."

"I don't need this arm, I'm (R/L) handed. It's really just extra weight."