People, again... still ew

        Elliott awoke to a relentlessly throbbing pain in his leg and dried tears on his face. He sat up with a wince, scrubbed his face clean, and sniffled once more. Right. He grabbed an apple from his bag, crunching into it, and slowly, carefully climbed down from his hut. Once on the ground, he threw the apple core away and rubbed his face. "Please, Author. You did this to me, just- just give me the means to fix it. Please," he voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears, unbidden. 

        He got no answer. With a sniffle, he banished the tears from his eyes and limped onwards, towards the creek. Maybe washing out the wound would do some good. Oh, crap. What if the arrow was poisoned? 

        Honestly, he hoped it was. Dying of poison was a much better way to go than slowly succumbing to an infection or getting caught by orcs bapecause he couldn't run. Speaking of running, the mere act of walking was causing him severe pain. Elliott stopped by the tree he'd stayed in that first night for a rest, eating another apple and wiping sweat off his face. After a half hour, he forced himself up again and continued limping towards the creek. 

        Once he reached it, Elliott slowly lowered himself down next to it with his leg splayed out. He took a long drink, then a deep breath, and pulled off his shoe. With a gulp and a moment of hesitation, he sank his injured leg into the cool water. He bit his lip, tears rising once again to his eyes, and untied the scrap of bloodstained cloth. Immediately, the water filled with blood, making Elliott panic and pull his leg out. Despite the heavy cloud of red that was being washed downstream, the wound was not bleeding an excessive amount. 

        Ah, right. He remembered slomething from his biology schoolwork that said that blood, like... exploded? in water? It got oversaturated or something and broke apart, making it look like there was more than there was. Which was probably why shark attacks looked like an entire body drained of blood, even if it was only one bite. Ah, it was years ago that he learnt that, he probably bungled the explination so hard.

        He took another deep breath and lowered his leg back in with a wince, trying to gently wash away any dirt without irritating it, though it stung horribly. It was because of this pain that he didn't pick up on the sound of the bushes rustling softly as someone drew nearer. He did, though, hear the near-silent gasp.

        Elliott whipped his head around, lunging for the pocketknife in his bag. The brown-haired elf from before held out his hands. "Be calm," he said, voice oddly soothing. "I am not here to harm you."

        Social anxiety kept his mouth shut, though he wouldn't have been able to think of anything good to reply anyways. He just tensed and turned back to his leg, washing off the makeshift bandage so that he could re-use it.

        "Do you... need some help? I am a skilled healer," the elf offered, and Elliott hunched his shoulders. He really didn't want to accept the help... but that time he refused the help of two girls that offered to get his hat back for him after it had blown away, and he never got it back again since it then blew too far, plagued him. What if this was a similar situation, where he would refuse help and then regret it later? Of course, he was ten years old at the time, and a potentially deadly wound was definitely worse than a hat that got stuck in a place too high for him to reach, but...

        He lowered his head, hugging himself, and whispered, "Yes please." Thankfully, the elf didn't say anything else, simply lowered himself beside Elliott and gestured for him to bring his leg closer. He did so, and tensed further when soft, gentle fingers probed the wound. Without a word, the elf mixed a few herbs together - Elliott tried to memorise them, but he had the memory of a goldfish and all he could remember was the vague shape - into a paste, then slathered it gently over the wound. Then gauze was placed on top and bound on with bandages. 

       "Thank you," Elliott whispered, voice no louder than a pin drop. The elf smiled at him, though. Elliott pulled his shoe back on, trying to avoid his eyes.

        "You are quite welcome," he said in reply. "My name is Elrond. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours?"

        Elliott cast his gaze to the side, hunching in on himself. Ugh, he wished he had some Zoloft. Or weed, marijuana would work too. "Elliott," he mumbled. Oh, honestly. He wished he could just interact with others like a normal person! And also, Elrond? What was next, was he going to go to the council of Elrond, make a big scene, join the fellowship of the ring and fall in love with Legolas? God, he hoped not. He'd be so bad at adventuring, it wasn't even funny. Like, seriously. If he tried to go with the fellowship, he'd just drag them down and feel like a massive burden. Speaking of burdens, he couldn't let Elrond heal him and get nothing in return. So he grabbed his bag and pulled out the biggest, reddest apple and offered it.

        "Thank you, Elliott," said Elrond as he took the apple. "How would you feel about coming to Imladris - to Rivendell - with me, to ensure your wound gets the best treatment possible?"

        Bad, that's how he'd feel. Very, very bad. He didn't know how to say that, though, so he just shrunk in on himself further. Elrond's gaze seemed to soften, and he reached out a hand to pat Elliott on the shoulder. Slowly, of course, so as to not spook him. Elliott just looked away, eyebries scrunched. Damn the author for putting him in this position. What was he supposed to do? On one hand, the logical thing was to go with Elrond to Rivendell. On the other hand, that sounded like actual torture. 

        Elliott licked his lips nervously, then shook his head. Elrond furrowed his eyebrows but before the elf could say anything else, Elliott let out a terrified gasp and pointed behind him. Ekrond whipped around, hand on his sword, to face... nothing. Elliott used the moment of distraction to stand, limping as fast as he could to the forest. 

        That wasn't a good idea. Elrond caught up fast. Elliott looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please leave me alone," he whimpered quietly. Shit, was that rude? His father would have scolded him for saying that. Elromd's eyes grew sad. "You know I cannot leave a child by himself."

        Right. Time for drastic measures. 'Author? Please help me get out of this pickle. I just- you know how much I dnot want to tall to people, how awkward it would be for me there. Besides, you'd have a better story if I didn't go!' Elliott thought desperately. He honestly didnt think it would work, but then he felt his pain fade away and his energy levels pick up, and he suddenly felt like he could run a thousand kilometres. So off he went, shooting like a bullet into the forest. He ignored Elrond's cry of surprise and ran as far as he could, until the heightened speed, endurance and pain tolorance faded away and he collapsed to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing already-established characters is so much harder than I thought, my gosh. I hope I did Elrond justice, because I'm pretty sure I messed up Aragorn in that one chapter. I was originally going to have him to to Rivendell, but then I decided I'd have no clue how to write that. So instead I've had him tap into his 'call upon the author' powers and leave.

 Don't worry; I wont be inserting myself into the story. I just wanted to give Elliott a plausible reason for being able to get away from Elrond. Also I found it funny, sue me.