Legolas drew his white knives and ran into the chaos.

A massive Uruk Hai, two arrows lodged in its chest and another protruding from its back, was lumbering amongst the busy elves, slashing wildly with a ragged black blade. Timing his movements precisely, Legolas slipped, like a dancer, beneath its flailing arm, rose, sliced, ducked, and spun away.

The Uruk raised a hand to its throat… But the hand froze, mid air, the knees buckled, and the beast crumpled to the ground.

Legolas had already moved on—

"HALDIR!"

Her voice came to him above the hubbub, piercing his concentration, and making his blood run cold.

He turned—knives relaxing—immediately found her in the melee—saw Haldir, with his sword stuck in the ground—You fool—saw the Uruk Hai bearing down on him—saw Haldir reach for his knife—No time, mellon nín—began to run—saw Eowyn step forward—saw, with unbearable pride, her drive her sword through the beast's throat—felt the overwhelming relief—

Then the Uruk Hai lashed out.

And Legolas was screaming, "EOWYN! EOWYN!"

NO, NO, NO. Middle Earth had slowed around him—every step was lasting an Age. But, somehow, he was beside her, NO, NO, NO. He took her from Haldir's arms and laid her on the ground, NO, NO, NO.

Haldir was mumbling the same words, over and over…

NO, thought Legolas, No, n—there is no blood. Why is there no blood? Has she fainted? Please, Valar, let her just have fainted… "Help me," he cried. "Help me get this armour off."

Fingers shaking, clumsy with fear, he unlaced her leather cuirass and, with Haldir's help, pulled off her mail, ripped open her tunic—

"It is just a scratch…"

"Poison." Haldir's words stabbed his spirit. "She said it burned."

"We must get her to Master Dínendal. NOW."

How he carried her to Arod, lifted her onto Arod's back—Haldir must have helped me—crossed the ford, found the Healing Cave, he had no idea. "Stay with me, melmenya, stay with me."

"Lay her down here, my lord," said Master Dínendal, quickly preparing a rock-shelf bed. "What has happened?"

Thank the Valar for Dínendal!

…

Sweet Eru, how he longed to make love to her! If anyone knew what was in my heart!

He had been excited by battle—of course—but, the moment she had fallen, his arousal had been transformed into something else—a tender desire—a yearning—for his injured wife.

As though his love could put things right!

…

"Have you news of the antidote?" he asked, anxiously.

"Yes, my lord, though I confess I do not understand how it can possibly work—"

"What is it?" asked Haldir.

Dínendal cleared his throat. "You must lie with her, my lord," he said.