The forest was silent now, as Legolas came to a halt at the edge of the small clearing. He was unsure of what to do next, and dithered uncertainly until Gimli caught up with him. They exchanged looks, but neither of them made a further move into the space before them. The last of the orcs had either fled or exhaled their last foul breath on the forest floor, and the smell of death hung heavily. In silence the two members of the fellowship looked into the glade.

Pale autumnal sunshine filtered through the canopy of green and golden leaves above the two men. It glinted off the metal reinforcements of their leather armour, and gave their skin an amber tint. A short distance away from the men, the decapitated body of an Uruk-hai spilled obscene, black blood over its bed of leaves. For once, Legolas did not mourn the loss of a life; he was glad that this tormented and twisted creature would not kill again.

Aragorn and Boromir were at the far side of the clearing at the foot of a large tree. Despite the gentle rays of the sun, Boromir's handsome face was pallid and his eyes betrayed his considerable pain and distress. His hands clutched convulsively at Aragorn's arms and he seemed agitated. Speaking pained him, but he clearly had something to get off his chest.

Legolas looked on as Aragorn suppressed the fear and worry of their journey and for the future of their kind. In keeping with the compassionate nature of a healer, he presented a calm presence to Boromir to ease his passage from this life to the next. Aragorn leaned over his comrade and pressed the hilt of Boromir's sword into the dying man's hand.

The man that had been Boromir, son of Denethor, was finally at peace.

Aragorn raised his eyes to meet those of his two remaining companions. Gimli gave a curt nod and stalked around the edge of the clearing to check for any living remnants of the orc band that had waylaid them. Legolas watched the dwarf move among the trees. Gimli kicked aside bodies and shuffled through piles of leaves. After a time, Legolas realized that in his despair over the loss of Boromir, he had paid no heed to the fate of the young hobbits.

---

They laid the dead man in one of the boats with his sword clasped in his hand. His shield was at his head and, apart from his torn and bloodstained tunic, he looked as though he were sleeping. The man, the dwarf and the elf kept their own council, said their own goodbye, as the river took Boromir home.

A splash and a rustle brought Legolas out of his silent contemplation and he gave a shout. He ran over to remaining boat and tugged it impatiently into the water. Aragorn stilled him, and shook his head – Frodo's path now diverged from theirs. As he stood on the riverbank silently gazing at the point on the opposite side where the hobbits had gone up into the trees Legolas pondered his own mortality. Death had become a grim reality since he had joined the fellowship.

Lost in his thoughts, it was a while before he realised that Gimli and Aragorn were speaking. Legolas abandoned his internal dialogue and listened. He agreed with them, in his current mood, hunting Orc was as good an occupation as any. He ran with them to the last place they could be certain Merry and Pippin had been. Aragorn seemed to have found some reserves of energy that had recently been lacking, and Legolas was glad for this. He had worried that the loss of another of the fellowship so soon after Gandalf would sap more of Aragorn's inner strength than he could afford to lose.

After they had searched the ground around the scene of Boromir's last stand, they ran in the direction that the orc raiders had taken, giving no mind to anything other than their current quest. Night fell quickly and yet on they ran.

Finally Aragorn, with uncharacteristic bad grace, gave in to the need for food and rest. Gimli ate his lembas bread without apparent enjoyment and sat with his back against a boulder. He held his axe at the ready and closed his eyes, in a few short minutes he was asleep. Aragorn took a few bites and a drink, then stood on a small rise apart from the others, gazing in the direction the Orcs had gone. It was clear he begrudged every minute they spent dallying.

Aragorn had his arms wrapped tightly around himself and stood with his shoulders hunched. Legolas watched, shocked, as he appeared to suppress a sob. He gave Aragorn a few moments to compose himself before going to stand beside him. Aragorn did not acknowledge his presence for a few minutes. He spoke without turning to face the elf. "We have failed them badly, and now we think only of ourselves when we should be seeking..."

Legolas cut him off with a light touch to his forearm, running his finger along the engravings on Boromir's bracer which he was touched to see that Aragorn now wore. "It will bring nothing if we are too weak to fight when we reach them." He swallowed before he added, "it is no more your fault than it is Boromir's that the Orcs took them."

Shaking off Legolas' hand, Aragorn turned angry eyes to his friend. "You know well that Boromir died to save them, that he fought his demons within and came out with honour intact."

"And you know that is not what I meant, Aragorn." Legolas folded his arms across his chest. "None of us could have known what would happen, the Ring did not call only to the Son of Gondor." This was said without reproach and Aragorn bowed his head in acquiescence. Legolas nodded towards the dwarf and lowered his voice. "He will not admit it, but dwarves are built for stamina not for speed. He has the heart of a horse, but even he must rest and if we are to save the halflings we must join him."

"It grieves me to think of what they suffer while we tarry here."

"And it grieves me to know that you will run yourself into the ground, and still Merry and Pippin will be delivered to Saruman." Legolas gave Aragorn a gentle push. "Rest, I will take the first watch."

Aragorn tried to read the elf's expression, but Legolas kept his face deliberately bland and after a short time Aragorn submitted to his will. He lay in the lee of Gimli's boulder, wrapped in his cloak. Legolas sat beside him for a while, singing softly under his breath until he knew that Aragorn was asleep. Carefully, Legolas stood and walked over to where Gimli slept. He looked at the dwarf with interest; his long, coarse beard and the axe rose and fell with every breath. Legolas continued to sing softly, his eyes and ears alert for any sound that might indicate danger.

Finally, sure that they had not been followed, he sat cross-legged on a small patch of grass a short distance from the other two. He finished his song, and before he sank into the open-eyed sleep of the elves looked around once more. Legolas was surprised to meet Gimli's gaze.

"Harumph. My heart is stronger than that of a horse," he muttered after his eyes had closed again, but not before he had seen Legolas' answering smile.

---

Before dawn spread its pale fingers over the dark sky Aragorn roused himself. Legolas stood on the rise, scanning the horizon, Gimli was where Aragorn had last seen him, apparently oblivious to the world. Legolas sang an ancient song, that Aragorn had never heard before, to greet the new day. When he had finished Legolas spoke with quiet confidence. "We will find them."

Once more it was long after dark when they stopped, this time Legolas feigned the need for rest to force Aragorn to agree to a break of a few hours. Aragorn grumbled while he chewed his lembas, standing on a boulder to look out into the blackness in the vain hope of sighting the hobbits.

Following their routine from the previous stop, immediately after their meal Gimli settled himself, leaving the others to come to whatever arrangement they chose.

"You said you were in need of rest, so rest," Aragorn glared at Legolas. "I will take the first watch."

"And you know that I need less rest than you."

Aragorn lay down and wrapped himself tightly in his cloak. He looked up at his companion, who hesitated before sinking down next to him. They lay on their backs in the light of the yellowish moon that hung low in the sky. Legolas shivered. It was too cold to sleep outside but they had no choice, Aragorn moved closer, and muttered something about preserving body heat. Legolas began to sing. His voice was low and soothing, the song helped them to relax towards sleep.

"I am not a child, Legolas, for you to comfort after a nightmare."

"I know, Aragorn, but I am sorely pressed to help heal your wounds."

"Some wounds can never be healed. Do you have such wounds, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was muffled by the cloak. His face was mostly obscured and Legolas could not read his expression.

Legolas gave the merest hint of a shake of his head.

"Perhaps it is better that way."

"Perhaps. Rest now." He watched as Aragorn was taken over by sleep. "The wounds are already there," he murmured in Elvish.

Now Legolas tried to clear his mind and sleep but Aragorn's proximity made it impossible. Since they had first met Aragorn had never been far from Legolas' mind, buried as much as he could bear, but a constant presence nevertheless. As if he could sense what Legolas was thinking Aragorn shifted, rolling onto his side to face away from his companion. Legolas spooned up behind Aragorn, telling himself it was to share body warmth, but knowing that he simply craved the closeness. He did not want to examine his feelings for the man because he was afraid of what he knew he would find. More than that – he was afraid of the consequences.

Legolas was confused by his feelings. He had always assumed that he would eventually find a mate, and it had never occurred to him that she would be anything other than a female elf. The feelings that Aragorn had awakened in him were intense and frightening because Legolas had no idea why he should be so attracted to him. After all, he was nowhere near as fair as an elf, male or female. He was passionate about what he believed in, a brave warrior and a skilled tracker. All things that Legolas admired. But was that enough reason to love him?

Aragorn moved again and Legolas' heart jumped. He felt a stab of guilt and then a sudden and unexpected flash of jealousy. He had watched Aragorn sleep before while he had been on watch. Legolas imagined that now, as then, Aragorn slept with his hand tightly clasped around Arwen's jewel. He felt a pang as he realised that even now Aragorn would be thinking of her. Legolas hoped it gave him comfort and forced himself to sleep.

---

They ran until their lungs and legs protested. They ran with a desperation born of the sense of the futility of their search. They continued to run when their bodies shouted at them to stop and pressed on with their unrelenting pace.

Legolas wondered if Gimli was homesick for the deep caverns of his people, this was no terrain for one of his kind. The dwarf stumbled over tussocks and hidden rocks, and grumbled most of the time, but he kept up with the others, and they knew that his complaints were his way of getting through the day.

That day their exhausting hunt was rewarded when Aragorn found one of the brooches that had been gifted by Galadriel trodden into the mud. Gimli and Legolas agreed with him that it had not fallen by chance, which lifted all their spirits. Legolas quashed his fear that if they were wrong the omens boded ill for the hobbits He preferred to believe in Aragorn's skill as a tracker.

They sat beneath the protection of a rocky outcrop with their backs against the boulders and took some refreshment. Gimli only ate little of the lembas then collapsed, exhausted into sleep. Aragorn and Legolas moved away from Gimli and sat together in uncomfortable silence. Aragorn tried to make eye contact with Legolas, who steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. "Legolas, we have to speak of that which is distressing you."

"It is nothing with which you should concern yourself, Aragorn," Legolas tried to move away, but with a swift movement, Aragorn grabbed his wrist and prevented his flight.

"Legolas, please, don't... to see you like this..." Words failed him, he moved closer and put his arms around Legolas. Aragorn spoke quietly in Elvish, his mouth against Legolas' fine hair. Legolas was torn between his need to take the comfort that Aragorn offered and his guilt at wanting what belonged to another. "We cannot choose who we love, Legolas."

Legolas freed himself from Aragorn's embrace and moved out of reach. He perched on a rock and schooled his face into his usual detached mask.

"Legolas... I... we will be together for a long time. Maybe we will die together," the harsh words provoked no reaction and Aragorn was surprised at the anger this stirred in him. "I do not think you would wish to die with this unresolved between us," Legolas' flinch gave Aragorn a guilty twinge, but having pushed in the dagger he twisted it, "I would not wish to die with this unresolved between us."

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he might said went unspoken. They both jumped to their feet as Gimli approached. "Yet again the dwarf is ready whilst you sit in idle chatter." If he noticed a frosty atmosphere he gave no sign. Gimli clapped Legolas on the back and tugged at his cloak before setting off at a fast jog. He did not check if his companions followed. Legolas sprang to his feet and ran past the dwarf with his hair and cloak streaming behind him.

The elf set a hard pace, stopping occasionally to let Gimli and Aragorn almost catch up before running off again. After many hours it registered with Legolas that the puffing, panting and grumbling behind him had subtly changed in tone. He came to a stop and looked around guiltily as the others caught up with him. Yet again they sought shelter and took out their now dwindling lembas supply, chewing in silence as they recovered.

On this occasion Legolas remained standing and gave every indication that he was ready to resume their trek. Aragorn resolutely refused to move, discreetly inclining his head towards Gimli, who was nodding over his axe.

Jolted by his selfish behaviour, Legolas walked over to Gimli and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Gimli," he crouched down and whispered conspiratorially, "I think Aragorn should rest a little. I'll watch. If you sleep I think he would too." Legolas glanced over at Aragorn out of the corner of his eye. Aragorn gave him a nod of approval.

Without waiting for Gimli's reply Legolas took up a position where he had a good view of all approaches to their location.

Legolas was singing. His plaintive song ended abruptly and he stiffened his already almost impossibly straight spine as Aragorn approached.

Aragorn ran a hand across his face and took one step towards Legolas' rock. Legolas could feel his stillness, like a hunter stalking a quarry. "Legolas, we must talk."

"We have no need to talk."

"Legolas..."

"No, Aragorn. What we do now... Frodo and Sam... Gandalf and Boromir's deaths... these things are more important. Tomorrow we will reach Rohan. Perhaps we will..." His voice petered out. Instead of his usual loose-limbed cross-legged position, Legolas sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and his ankles crossed. His arms were clasped tightly around his legs. His whole being screamed 'leave me'. Aragorn nodded, turned and walked away. Legolas watched as he wrapped himself in his cloak and closed his eyes. He could not tell if the man was asleep or not.

Legolas sat where he was for a long time before he lay down. This time he made sure that Gimli was between them. Unable to sleep, he lay with open eyes and a heavy heart.

The new day dawned and because Aragorn was impatient to be on their way, they ate as they ran. It was the only time that Gimli had run in silence, but Legolas was not in good spirits, and did not make any comment at this. Aragorn led the way by tacit agreement, Legolas did not wish to feel the man's eyes on his back while they ran.

The day began much as any other – full of uncertainty and doubt. The order had been given to evacuate to Helm's Deep immediately. The elf was glad to be out of the confines of the town and back in the open country.

They had expected the unexpected, but still the attack came as a surprise. Legolas ran as soon as he heard the wargs attack the two outriders. His first arrow hit its mark, but didn't kill the orc outright. That thought almost stopped him in his tracks. What manner of orc was this that was not afraid to show itself by daylight? Saruman's strength must indeed be great if he could change orcs so much. Legolas' distaste of orcs was written all over his face as he approached his downed foe with his knife at the ready.

He did not check his pace as he sliced swiftly through the creature's throat, holding his body well clear from the blood which spurted from the orc's neck. His knife was covered with obscene, black blood and Legolas kicked the body well away from him before he was tainted with its touch. "Scout!" Yelled Legolas to warn Aragorn and the King of the attack, even as he turned and sped to the top of the rise before him.

Wargs, and the terrible orcs that could withstand daylight, swarmed over the next ridge. Legolas loosed arrow after arrow with a speed that astounded those fighting alongside him, many of whom still could not quite believe that an elf was aiding them. Gimli's axe shone in the sunlight as it swung and hewed at the enemy. His boundless energy and stubborn strength fired up the men around him, spurring them on to fight all the harder. The elf's bow sang until his arrows were spent, then his twin blades took their turn. The Rohirrim fought off Sauron's servants with the ferocity only displayed by those defending their homes and families. They fought for more than their lives: they fought for the continued existence of their people.

It was a pitched battle, noisy and ugly, with no quarter asked and none given. The screams of the dying filled the air, overlaid with the raucous cries of the wargs. The noise ripped into his sensitive ears until Legolas thought he could take no more.

Then, almost as suddenly as it began, it was over.

Theoden called the remainder of his soldiers together and gave swift orders to evacuate the injured by horseback. The dead, distasteful as it was to the King and his men, would lie where they fell. There would be no time to bury them.

It immediately became clear that Aragorn numbered among the fallen and Legolas frantically scoured the battleground for a sign of him. Gimli helped him search, noting the rising panic in the normally collected elf. Now and again he patted Legolas reassuringly on the arm or the back but their search proved futile. The lack of a body gnawed at them and they redoubled their efforts, the strain on Legolas' face showing more plainly with every minute that passed.

Until they found the orc.

Legolas' venom as he questioned the revolting creature shocked those who witnessed it. Eventually he prised not only information but Arwen's pendant from the orc. The pathetic being saved Legolas from killing him in cold blood by conveniently expiring under the elf's furious glare. To the end of his days Gimli teased his friend about this, saying that it was the elf's dark scowl that had finished the orc, not his wounds. But that levity only came much later.

It was a quiet party that arrived at Helm's Deep, the euphoria of winning their first battle dampened by the loss not only of Aragorn but also of the men of Rohan. Reunion of husband and wife, son and mother, brother and sister was tempered to spare the feelings of those for whom there was no return. There was no time to mourn, however, and a feeling of deep foreboding began to build up in the elf.

The next hours were difficult. Legolas withdrew into his grief although to most of those at the Deep he was his usual detatched, icy self. Gimli did his best. It grieved him sorely that Aragorn was dead, but he had seen so much death and destruction he was faintly surprised that he and Legolas had been spared. He explained this to Legolas, who was sceptical. But he, too, hoped against hope that his gut feeling was correct. That Aragorn still lived. This feeling that Aragorn had survived was inexplicable to both Gimli and Legolas but the elf had no other way to explain why he did not merely accept Aragorn's death as a fact. They did not share their optimism with any one else. Partly because they did not want to build up the King's hopes, but mostly because they could not yet talk of their companion with anyone else. It was too painful.

On the morning after the warg attack, Gimli ascended the winding stairway to the top of the keep. Legolas stood at the highest point of the fortress and scanned the horizon for a sign of Aragorn. The wind whipped the elf's hair, veiling his face and hiding his expression from Gimli. The dwarf spoke. "Is there any sign?"

"I fear there will never be a sign, Master Dwarf."

"Never give up hope, laddie, Aragorn is as strong as an ox and as tough as my old boots. He will be back." Gimli exuded quiet confidence and this cheered Legolas, but only a little.

"You are a long way up, Gimli."

"I wanted to see for myself what keeps you up here." He looked around. "Not much to look at."

"No, there are no trees here. It is a barren, ugly landscape. But all the better to see..." His voice faltered.

"Come with me, Legolas. Today I will look at the caves. Come with me."

"I have no desire to delve into caverns, Gimli. I am not a Dwarf."

"Nor I an elf," Gimli crossed his arms over his chest. "Yet I have wandered among the trees of Fangorn without complaint," he held up his hand, "with little complaint." He corrected himself. "I have a better understanding of your people because of this."

Legolas blushed. "It is well, Gimli, that you remind me of this. I am sorry, I was thinking only of myself." He stopped at the top step. "Perhaps you would lead the way?"

---

The caves glittered and shone in the torchlight. Gimli's eyes added their own sparkle to the beauty around them. It was clear to Legolas that to the Dwarf these caves were at least as beautiful as the trees of Lórien had been to him. There was, in his opinion, nothing comparable with Mallorn trees in this rocky hole in the ground. But the Dwarf had fallen under the spell of the Lady Galadriel – perhaps it was not beyond the bounds of possiblity that Legolas could come to love these caves too. It would not be for lack of trying if he did not.

After half an hour or so, Legolas began to feel the weight of the mountain above him pressing down on his head. He looked nervously around him, and blinked rapidly. The air inside the cavern was perfectly sweet, but his throat began to constrict and his lungs protested. When his breathing became loud enough for Gimli to hear, he put his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder and gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "I am sorry, my friend, but I must leave here."

Gimli wordlessly led him back to the main hall where he patted Legolas on the arm before the elf finally gave in to a desire that had been building since they entered the cave and ran outside. He stayed outside until two hours after dark, when he returned to the room he shared with his Aragorn and Gimli.

Patiently Gimli coaxed Legolas until the elf agreed to go with him into the caves again. Although he was not smitten with the cavern in the way that Gimli had been with Lórien, Legolas had begun to appreciate their beauty in a way that he had not expected. The surface of the rock glittered and shimmered with the natural deposits of crystal within. But Gimli had not been satisfied with this. He knew that when the attack came the women and children would be evacuated from the fortress into the caves. Gimli approached …owyn, who was glad of the help, and together he and Legolas helped move what little supplies there were into the cavern.

The next evening they sat in the main hall after the evening meal. It was their custom to sit apart from the men, in truth they both felt uncomfortable among the Rohirrm. Gimli seemed agitated, puffing at his pipe absently, complaining when it periodically went out. Legolas was gradually getting used to the idea that Aragorn was not coming back, and while it still grieved him sorely, he did not think about the man every waking minute. Just most of them. He looked over at Gimli, lighting his pipe for the fourth time that evening.

"Master Dwarf, you are restless this evening. Something ails you?"

"Come, Legolas. There is something I wish to show you."

"Can it not wait until the morning," Legolas feigned a yawn.

Gimli hid his disappointment well. "Of course, I understand that you delicate elves do not have the stamina of a Dwarf. I can show you tomorrow."

Legolas stood up. "Show me, Gimli." He gave the his first genuine smile for days, which was returned with full force.

Gimli entered the cave first, having admonished the elf to wait for his signal to enter. After a few minutes Legolas heard a low whistle, took a deep breath and followed the dwarf into the cavern.

Arranged at strategic intervals, Gimli had lit some of the lamps they had carried in with the other supplies. The light danced around the pillars and walls, reflecting off the quarz and crystal in myriad rainbow colours. It took Legolas' breath away and finally he understood what Gimli saw in the place. He sat next to the dwarf on a boulder in the middle of the cavern and looked all around him in wonderment. "Master Dwarf, I thought you would show me something worth seeing." He smiled at Gimli's obvious disappointment. "But on this occasion you have surpassed my expectations. Thank you."

Gimli beamed. "It is indeed more beautiful than Lórien, although you will not admit it."

---

Legolas had heard – how could he not? – that Aragorn had arrived at Helm's Deep. The whisper had gone around like wildfire and at first the rumours had said he was mortally wounded. Legolas ached to see him with his own eyes but fought down his desire to tear through the Deep and check Aragorn for himself. Although he was the only elf in the fortress, Legolas was able, when he wanted, to move around without anyone noticing him. He made his way to a spot which had a good view of Aragorn's path and watched as his horse plodded carefully through the crowds to deposit his burden at the main entrance to the keep.

Aragorn was filthy. His hair was matted and his clothing still bore the rents and tears of the battle that seemed to have taken place so long ago. Despite the ravages he had undergone Aragorn still exuded the qualities that the elf folk had seen in him since he was a child, and that Men were now beginning to appreciate. The horse stood motionless while Aragorn slid off. Hands reached out at first to help him, but withdrew when it became clear that he could manage alone.

His vantage point gave him a good view of Aragorn's progress, but Legolas lost sight of him when he dismounted. With the now familiar lurch that his stomach gave when he saw Aragorn, Legolas reached inside his tunic and withdrew the pendent that he had recovered. It glittered in his hand and his heart sank briefly at this reminder of Aragorn's love for Arwen. Legolas hurried to the entrance to the main hall caring only for speed not stealth. He did not notice the stares he attracted from those he passed. Nobody had seen him as animated since his arrival at Helm's Deep and they gaped openly at his hurried progress.

The passageway outside the hall was full of refugees and their belongings. Not only Edoras that had been evacuated but also as many of the outlying villages as possible. Women sat with wide-eyed babies on their laps surrounded by their, pitifully few, worldly goods. Small children, in the manner of small children everywhere, made a game out of everything playing hide-and-seek between the pillars and bundles. Older children stood around in small groups, eyeing everything warily and, no doubt, wondering what was going to become of them.

Legolas saw it all and noticed nothing of the detail, his sole purpose was to see for himself, close up, that Aragorn was as well as he appeared to be. Knowing that King Theoden would be Aragorn's first port of call, Legolas placed himself squarely in front of the great entrance to the main hall. Disguising his impatience well, he watched Aragorn's approach with a keen eye, noting everything about his appearance.

Aragorn finally stood in front of Legolas, who was almost overcome with relief, although he kept his greeting banal. Aragorn had been about to answer when Legolas pressed Arwen's jewel into his hand. Naturally they both looked down at the pendant, and when Aragorn raised his eyes again the elf assumed an inscrutable expression. There was no time for Aragorn to talk to his friend and he left to consult with Theoden, noting well the hard look in Legolas' eyes.

---

The next hours were filled with handing out the armour and weapons held at the fortress; not only to the soldiers but also to the old men and even young boys. Although the three of them shared a chamber, Gimli had elected to sleep in the caves, Aragorn and Legolas hardly saw each other. Even when they did speak Legolas steered the conversation towards what preparations the King was making, avoiding all of Aragorn's attempts to question him.

Helm's Deep was a large fortress, crowded with men, women children and horses but despite this Legolas felt very much alone. He grew more despondent about their chances of survival and the success of Frodo's quest. Prowling the corridors and hallways of the keep he watched as children took possession of swords nearly as tall as themselves. Old men who should have been sitting by the fire telling each other tall tales heaved themselves up staircases to take up the positions along the crenelations. Legolas looked on in despair as they leaned against the battlements, weary after the climb, trying to prepare themselves mentally for the onslaught that was to come. At least, he thought ruefully, they are at the end of their lives anyway.

No such grain of comfort could be spared for the youths who stood next to the warriors. The smaller boys had gathered rocks and stones to throw at the enemy. Young faces blanched as the more experienced soldiers explained their task. They fought back tears of panic, their eyes huge, dark pools of sheer terror. More than one had been pulled, not without a soldier's gruff compassion, from his mother's embrace; they were terrified. As he walked aimlessly around and saw these pitiful preparations Legolas sang under his breath. He took no comfort from the fact that none of the men understood his lament for those about to die.

His feet took him to the main hall, where Aragorn, Theoden and the king's advisors had gathered. The vast space was packed with warriors, armed and armoured – the professional soldiers, a pitifully small number – who would have to lead the fight against the vast armies that would come. Legolas fought hard to control himself, but despite his usual discipline the elf could no longer stop the words. He exploded into an argument with Aragorn. The meaning was clear although none could understand the Elvish language. Aragorn's final statement in the Common Tongue echoed around the chamber.

"Then I will die as one of them!" The words reverberated from the vaulted ceiling, shocking even the seasoned warriors. They all knew that this would be a desperate last stand, but as yet nobody had spoken the words aloud. Legolas, mortified at his indiscretion left the chamber at a run as the eyes of every man present bored into his back.

Aragorn made no move to follow.

Legolas made himself scarce. He lurked, unseen, close to the armoury and fought down his despair before it reduced him to a shivering heap. He watched the coming and going of the soldiers, men and boys and slowly pulled himself together. Legolas' eyes trailed Aragorn. Watching as Aragorn spoke to man and boy alike, giving a word of advice here, sharing a joke with the more experienced soldiers there. He saw how Aragorn spoke with a young blond lad, giving much needed confidence and a sudden revelation occurred. The reason for his current state was simple: Aragorn expected to die.

Legolas was already resigned to the fact that he would die with Aragorn. But the man's own confirmation that he was doomed, that his last battle would be fought not in Gondor but Rohan, weighed heavily on the elf. He had pledged his aid, and in deserting Aragorn he had deserted his commitment to the Fellowship. Ashamed, Legolas quickly donned his armour.

---

Legolas found Aragorn in the armoury strapping on his own armour devoting all his concentration to his preparations. Deliberately Legolas made a sound, to announce his presence. Aragorn looked up, no doubt expecting one of Theoden's men. His eyes widened when he saw Legolas framed in the doorway, arrayed in his leather armour.

"You are losing your skill, Legolas, that would have woken an army."

"I did not want to surprise you, Aragorn," Legolas entered the room. He noted how Aragorn's expression changed from one of surprise to relief, and wondered if it had more to do with the fact that he, Legolas, was dressed for battle. Could it be that he offered, in the manner of a squire, the hilt of a sword to Aragorn? Not just any sword: Anduril. Aragorn's face creased into a smile as his hand closed over the familiar hilt. Legolas smiled in return.

"I spoke too harshly, a child of the woods has no place here. I should have made you stay in Fangorn."

"You think that you could make me do anything? Against my will?"

"I am certain of that."

Legolas turned to leave, but Aragorn was quicker and stood in the doorway preventing his escape.

"Legolas, we must speak. Now."

"Before it is too late?"

"There is always hope. Yes, now before it is too late."

"It is nothing, Aragorn. I will stand beside you in battle and fall with you."

"Sit!" Aragorn pushed Legolas roughly down on the armour chest and closed the door behind him. He stood near the elf but not close enough to make Legolas uncomfortable. "We will not fall in this battle or the next. We must not. Our duty is to the ringbearer above all else. It falls to us to distract Sauron so that Frodo can complete his task."

"This does not come as news to me," Legolas' face hardened, his emotions once more in turmoil. "You call me a child of the woods, but I am no child. Just as, despite your tender age, you are not a child of men."

"Will we fight each other again before this battle, Legolas? That was not my intention," Aragon moved half a step closer to the chest.

"What was your intention? Am I your prisoner," his eyes darted to the closed door. "Will you release me from this chamber only when I promise to fight valiantly until the last of the Urak-hai is slain? That is a promise I gladly give. Although it has no meaning. The Dark Lord will prevail, Aragorn."

"Where does your despair come from, Legolas?" Aragorn closed the remaining gap between himself and the elf. "Here?" he touched Legolas' head. "Or here?" Aragorn knelt, took hold of Legolas hand and placed it flat over the elf's own heart. "Are you angry with me, or with yourself?"

Legolas looked down at his chest. His slender fingers were completely covered by the man's broad hand. He noted the marks of Aragorn's hard life, the calloused and scarred fingers. Legolas could feel the rough skin of Aragorn's palm on the back of his hand.

Aragorn reached out with his other hand and laid it gently against Legolas' cheek. "Will you look at me?"

His answer was a shake of the blond head. "Aragorn, you must not do this."

"Must not? Why? Because you do not wish it," Aragorn dropped to his knees so that their foreheads touched. "Or because you do wish it?" Aragorn slid his arms around Legolas. "What of my wishes?" he whispered.

"Your wishes?" Legolas was ashamed of the tears that suddenly welled in his eyes.

"I, too, may wish."

"What do you wish for?" He pulled away to look at Aragorn, curiosity overcoming his shame.

"What do I wish for, Legolas? Many things. At this moment what I wish for is time – although my wish will go unfulfilled."

"Time can also be a burden." The inscrutable expression returned. "But you have other wishes. What of those?"

"While I was making my way here I wished to see you smile, but that wish is also unfulfilled. Will it remain that way?"

"I have little enough reason to smile."

"Then I will give you one." Moving slowly Aragorn put his hands on either side of Legolas' face. Aragorn brushed his thumb lightly across Legolas' mouth. "Is that reason enough?"

Legolas raised a finger, retraced the path Aragorn's finger had taken and gave Aragorn a sad smile. "A reason, Aragorn, but not enough." he jerked away and his smile vanished abruptly. "I do not want your pity, Aragorn. You are Arwen's."

"Legolas, I..." He stood quickly at the sound of footsteps outside. "Someone approaches."

Legolas got to his feet, stepped across the room and threw open the door. He was prevented from leaving by the sight that greeted him.

Gimli stepped through the doorway holding a mail shirt. In the time it took Gimli to struggle, grumbling about the chest size, into the garment, Legolas had composed himself and even managed a warm smile for his friend.

Aragorn sighed, but he too summoned a look of optimistic hope. "We will talk later."

"Perhaps we will, Aragorn." Legolas' face was grim. "But first we shall fight."

The hall was quiet. Which was odd, reflected the elf, considering the fact that it was half-full of men snatching a break from clearing the battleground. Legolas and Gimli sat at one end of a long table, the detritus of a hastily eaten meal in front of them. Legolas sat stiffly upright despite his fatigue and watched as Gimli sucked on his pipe. All around them the survivors of the battle of the Hornburg ate, drank or simply slumped over their plates. A sense of gloom hung over the gathering, despite their magnificent victory. So soon, after such a battle there was no will to celebrate. Too many lay dead within the Hornburg. Hearts were heavy and it would be some time before the mourning could be replaced by songs of remembrance for this great battle.

Legolas saw Gimli's eyes flicker towards the main door and he knew without turning round that Aragorn had entered the hall. The elf felt the man stop behind him, and wondered why he did not take a seat himself.

With a nod at Gimli, Aragorn grasped Legolas by the elbow and guided him to a quiet, sheltered corner.

Legolas removed himself gently from Aragorn's grasp taking his first good look at the man, noting the streaks of blood on his face and hands. He asked with concern, "Has something happened? You are hurt?"

Aragorn sighed. "It is not my blood." He paused before speaking further. "Legolas, so many of your folk are..."

Legolas nodded. He wrapped his arms across his chest and dropped his eyes. Never in his life had he expected to be confronted with the violent deaths of so many of his people. "There is something else."

"No. Nothing."

"You sought me out to tell me nothing?"

"Legolas, I wanted to speak with you." To see with my own eyes that you are all right, he thought. Aragorn took a step towards him, but stopped when Legolas stiffened. "There is much to do. We will talk later."

---

The stench of death was everywhere. Legolas needed some fresh air, but outside was no better than in. Work parties had already begun on the burial site. It had been a tough decision for King Theoden – those who had fallen in battle would be buried in mass graves.

Legolas and the remaining elves had railed against this, but at Aragorn's urging had given Theoden's proposal serious consideration. Finally they had agreed that the elves would be buried side by side with the men to commemorate the reforging of their old alliance. Legolas, as a prince and the highest ranking elf, had delivered their verdict to the King. His voice as he informed Theoden of the elves' decision had been cold and hard. Theoden, unused to the ways of the first-born had seemed shocked at his apparent lack of emotion which did not endear him to the elven prince. Legolas had heard Aragorn's whispered explanation of their shock at losing so many of their bretheren in one go. Theoden's efforts to understand his folk made the elf stifle the urge to go back into the King's chambers and insist that the elves have a separate burial ground.

No plan had been made regarding a funeral, but Legolas knew that the King, and Aragorn, would wish to have some kind of joint ceremony. He was unsure how he felt about that – unsure if the truth be told how he felt about anything. Legolas had never played up the fact that he was a prince but he felt that, as the senior elf at the Hornburg, he should have been consulted more about the battle plan. On the other hand, he trusted Aragorn implicitly – if Aragorn had placed his faith in the leader of the Rohirrim, then that should be enough for Legolas. His confusion gnawed at him and added to the guilt he was already suffering about his feelings for Aragorn.

It was in this attitude that he stood awhile at the great gate and watched the preparations taking place at the burial ground.

Only one of the fallen would be buried alone; Haldir, Marchwarden of Lorien. Hama, Captain of the Guard and two of his three sons would be buried together. The two graves would flank the beginning of the stone bridge that lead up to the entrance of the fortress. Haldir's grave was already dug with a small pile of freshly dug earth piled to one side, someone was still working on Hama's grave. Legolas winced at the thought that his friend would be no longer feel the sun on his skin, feel the air in his hair, revel in the simple joy of being alive as he had done in Lórien. The elf watched as a young boy first threw out his spade, then pulled himself wearily out of the grave he had dug. He remembered the fair haired youth as one that he had seen Aragorn talking to before the battle – Hama's son. The boy dragged his spade behind him as he walked along the line of burial pits being dug, each containing several diggers. He exchanged words with the sole occupant of the last, as yet small, hole in the ground, then he jumped in and start digging.

Legolas' spirit sank as he walked past yawning holes. Very few elves had survived and he realised with a guilty start that some of his kinfolk were among the diggers. The part of him that was still smarting at Theoden's high-handed treatment of the elves wondered if they had been ordered to do so. Legolas shook the thought from his head, he knew that Theoden's orders held no more sway with his brethren than they did with him. Every one of the elves who was digging that day did so out of a sense of comradeship with the men of Rohan.

At last his feet brought him to the last of the pits, furthest from the fortress walls. The boy he had watched from the gate and a man, with kerchiefs tied around their faces, sweated as they dug, despite the chill of the morning air. Legolas sprang lightly into the grave and took up a spare pick. The man carried on with his work, but the boy stood and stared.

"You came with the dwarf and the wizard."

"I did."

"This is not work for such as you."

"Nor for such as you. Yet as you dig, so will I."

The three worked in silence. After some hours had passed the boy was flagging, although he resisted Legolas' efforts to make him stop and rest. "My father and my two brothers died in the battle," his young voice cracked. "If I stop I will..." the boy's voice trailed off. He surreptitiously wiped away the tears that spilled over long lashes.

Legolas nodded, he understood. If you stop you think you will fail them once more. The elf and the boy resumed their work. Legolas sang a dirge as he hacked away at the rocky ground. The physical labour was helping to keep his body busy, but his mind was free to wander at will. He envied the youth's simple solution, if the boy worked he did not think. If the boy stopped he would drown in a flood of misery. Legolas sang to occupy his mind; it helped only a little.

Gradually his song for the dead was taken up by the other elves, low and melodious but haunting and sad at the same time. The sun moved higher and many of the men took off their tunics and undershirts, revealing a rainbow of bruised and battered bodies. The boy stripped to the waist, showing his livid badges of battle. Alone in their hole, Legolas, in common with the other elves, remained fully clothed.

At midday women came from the castle carrying pails of stew and coarse army bread. The workers gratefully laid aside their tools, sat between the graves and ate in silence. Legolas looked with his customary detached interest at his companions. The man was old and gnarled, Legolas recognised him as one of the archers. He had a bandage around his head through which fresh blood seeped and he did not speak as he shovelled food into his mouth.

The boy hunched over his bowl eating quickly, without relish. His eyes darted repeatedly over to Legolas and once or twice looked as though he was going to speak. He was thin and on his pale skin his bruising stood out sharply.

Legolas felt his discomfort and attempted to put the boy at ease. "What is your name?"

"Háleth son of Hama."

"I am Legolas of Mirkwood. You fought well, Háleth son of Hama."

"You saw me?" The boy looked dubious.

"You were with two other boys, older than you." He saw tears began to form in the boy's dark eyes. "Your brothers fought bravely, it is right that you mourn them."

"Girls and women cry, not men." Háleth scrubbed angrily at his face.

"On the contrary," a voice came from behind Legolas. "A man who cannot cry, can not appreciate what he fights for." Aragorn moved round and squatted next to Háleth, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Is that not so, Legolas?"

"It is the truth. I have known the bravest and staunchest of men let their tears fall. They do not hide their emotion." Legolas felt Aragorn's eyes boring into him. He put down his bowl, jumped lightly into the grave and began to dig again.

Aragorn watched him for a few minutes, then patted the boy absently on the shoulder before leaving the small group.

Háleth took up his spade resumed digging next to Legolas. After a few minutes he jerked his thumb in the direction Aragorn had taken. "He spoke to me before the battle. Told me my sword was good. But it was not good enough to save my brothers. I was not good enough to save my brothers." He gulped and attacked the ground with renewed vigour. "How can I live with that?"

"If you consider the alternative," Legolas saw the boy's eyes register what he had said. "You have your mother to think about. You have to live with it, to help her. Otherwise we may as well have lost the battle."

---

By nightfall the graves were finished and the working party returned to within the walls of Helm's Deep. They moved slowly in small, tired groups. Nobody spoke as they handed in their tools at the gate, and separated to their various quarters.

Grateful for the peace and quiet of his room and relieved that Aragorn was not there, Legolas removed his tunic and quickly cleaned himself up at the washstand. A small fire had been lit, and he crouched, barechested, in front of it, holding out his hands to warm them, although he was not particularly cold. He stared into the fire and tried to calm his thoughts before the night vigil he would keep.

Legolas had just finished re-braiding his hair when Aragorn came into the room. Aragorn changed his clothes, buckled his sword over his tunic and combed his fingers through his tangled mane. He did not look at Legolas, merely completed his ablutions until he was evidently satisfied that he looked as tidy as possible. "Come, Legolas, the fire is already lit. We will be the last."

"We?"

"You surely did not think that I would not keep watch with you this night?" Aragorn tugged impatiently at his tunic to straighten it.

Legolas gave no reply, simply made his way to the hall where the remaining elves had gathered. Their faces were pale and wan in the torchlight, devoid of expression. Aragorn's entrance, immediately after Legolas' made no impact on them except to serve as a signal to file through the main door and down to the graves. It was a depressing sight. Each of the graves now had neat rows of men and elves laid together in death as they had fought in their last hours of this life. The ethereal beauty of the elves threw the contorted faces of the men into sharp relief. The company of elves arranged themselves silently by the fire and kept their vigil for the dead.

As the last hour before the dawn began the elves sang their farewell lament ending as the sun rose over the horizon. They turned as one to face the weak, first rays, threw back their hoods and clenched a fist over their hearts; the vigil was over. One by one they filed past the graves, taking a last look at their dead folk.

The two smaller graves were closest to the great gate, one on either side of the stone walkway as though to stand guard over those who still lived. Legolas stood looking down at the erstwhile Captain of the Guard, who was flanked by the smaller bodies of his fallen sons. They were all shrouded in their cloaks, obviously their injuries had been so severe that their bodies must be covered. Echoing the manner in which Boromir had been sent on his last journey, so too Hama's shield was at his head but he had only a long elvish knife instead of his sword.

Legolas moved to stand by Haldir's grave. In death he looked at rest, peaceful as Legolas had never seen him in life. He lay with an arm across his body, his hand on his bow – it looked as though he slept, ready to leap up and face any enemy unwary enough to disturb him. Legolas gripped his own bow and struggled against tears, aware, now more than ever of his own mortality. Aware that all of them had, at best, a tenuous hold on life.

None more so than the man who now stood next to him. Legolas sensed Aragorn's struggle not to reach out and attempt to comfort him.

Aragorn started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. "I will break my fast with the others. Will you join us?"

"Soon."

Legolas heard Aragorn's footsteps recede across the bridge, and sighed inwardly as he heard the sound of a lighter tread coming towards him. It seemed that he would not have a moment alone to bid farewell to the Marchwarden of Lorien.

"I brought these for your friend," Háleth held out three arrows and gestured vaguely to where Haldir lay. Anger rose unbidden in Legolas' throat. He died for them and they do not even know his name! He immdeiately stifled the thought as unworthy, the boy beside him had seen enough grief to last him several lifetimes. "It doesn't seem right that he will go to... wherever it is you go..." His voice faltered.

"The Halls of Mandos." Legolas took the proffered gift. "Thank you." The boy's simple gesture pushed a solitary tear over his lashes. They watched it splash on one of the yellow feathers in his hand.

"He looks as though he is sleeping."

"Yes." Legolas knelt at the graveside and leaned in to lay the arrows at Haldir's side. His hand hovered over his friend's still heart and he was filled with regret for the future that Haldir no longer had. There was a short pause before he added, "You have seen your brothers?" he gestured at the grave behind him.

"Not..." His voice gave out before he completed the sentence, but his meaning was clear.

"I will stay with you."

His only reply was a nod before the boy turned and walked slowly to the other grave. Legolas recalled the two boys he had seen fighting alongside Háleth, he guessed they had been around 17 years old. Too young to have seen what they had during the battle. Too young to die. He wondered how long it would be before the youth realised that they had given their lives so that he might live on.

Háleth held himself together for a few minutes but inevitably he gave in to his emotion and wept openly, huge heart-wrenching sobs that Legolas could hardly bear.

"Come, where is your mother, I will take you back." He guided the boy away, over the bridge and into the fortress, holding gently on to his elbow.

The contact was a revelation. Legolas finally understood Aragorn's need to touch, to offer comfort.

They did not need to look far. Háleth's mother hovered at the entrance to the great hall. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were wet. She gathered her remaining son to her, and her eyes met those of the elf over her son's blond head. "Thank you for your care of my son, my Lord. I will take him now, he should carry his father's sword, and for that we should make him look his best." She turned and led her son away.

---

Legolas returned to the room he shared with Aragorn. Unusually Gimli was there too. They both looked up as he entered and Gimli spoke. "We will breakfast here. Together."

Wordlessly Legolas put his bow in the corner and took his seat. He did not feel hungry, but he appreciated their gesture – fleetingly he wondered which of his companions had thought of it – and took some bread and fruit.

Gimli poured mead into a cup and pressed it into his hand. "It is our custom to send our dead on their way with a feast." He raised his cup to Legolas and took a drink. "No doubt your people do things differently."

"We do not often have the need, but when one of our number dies, we sing to ease their journey." Legolas echoed the dwarf's gesture and sipped his drink.

"Of course. Singing. I should have known."

Gimli's gruff comment was taken in the spirit intended, and Legolas did his best to smile. "If your bretheren all sing like you, Master Dwarf, I am sure that their journey would be even quicker – to escape the noise."

They ate in silence. Gimli's appetite did not seem to have been affected by the battle, if anything it had increased. "Saving your pardon, Legolas, but this is much better than elven bread."

"Lembas is not intended to fill and satisfy, merely to stave off hunger." Legolas had hardly tasted the food on his platter and drank little mead.

Aragorn also seemed to have no appetite, chewing apparently only to keep Gimli company. Legolas took small bites, thinking that if he ate he would not have to talk.

Gimli ate with purpose, finishing nearly all of the food he and Aragorn had brought. Eventually he was sated and pushed away his plate. He rose from the table, and looked out of the window. "There is much work for them," he gestured the work party filling the graves below. "I will visit the caves, perhaps you would accompany me, Legolas?"

"I hardly think that is appropriate," Aragorn mumbled, uncharacteristically harsh towards the dwarf. Gimli did not hear or pretended not to notice, but Legolas was angered on his friend's behalf.

"It is a good place for a dwarf to contemplate the battle just gone, the battles to come and to mourn the dead," he reproached, "but another time, Gimli" Legolas yawned. "I could not face their confines, beautiful as they are, at this time."

"Rest, then, Master Elf." Gimli closed the door softly behind him.

Legolas sat and stared at his plate which contained a half-eaten piece of bread and an apple core. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but for some strange reason he could not identify, he was reluctant to do this while Aragorn was still in the room. The picture of Haldir lying in his grave flashed into his head and his vision blurred as tears began to form again. Feeling a movement behind him Legloas rubbed angrily at his face, and pushed away from the table. "I need some air."

"You need some sleep."

"Yes, but so do you. I will help outside."

"No. You will stay here and sleep. And if it is really so difficult for you to be in the room with me, I will go elsewhere. You did not sleep last night, and all yesterday you worked like one possessed."

"And you did not?"

"When did I say I was not tired?" Indeed Legolas had never seen the man look so weary. The conflict within him grew. He was still angered that Aragorn and Theoden thought so little of the elves that they had only consulted them about the funeral arrangements as an afterthought. But Legolas knew Aragorn well, and did not believe that it had been a deliberate oversight, just the acceptance of the alliance that had been rebuilt. A glimpse of the chain around Aragorn's neck rekindled his guilt that he loved one who belonged to another. This combination of emotions left him feeling raw and sensitive; he wished for nothing other than to be alone. Legolas met Aragorn's steady gaze and it felt like an attack on the very core of his being.

Legolas had been slowly losing grip of himself since the elves' vigil for their fallen had ended; the sight of the dead elves had been traumatic, something no elf should ever have to see. He wanted more than anything to be allowed time, alone, to mourn Haldir, but it seemed that circumstances conspired against him and he would not be allowed this luxury. He had seen Haldir fight, all of them had: the golden haired Marchwarden had stood out like a beacon among the dark sea of enemy. But Legolas had lost sight of him, and was now consumed with guilt that he had not been able to prevent Haldir's death. Unfounded guilt, but nonetheless it pressed in on him and contributed to his current overly emotional state.

The usually composed elf came undone. His eyes glazed over and he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he sat with his arms wrapped tightly round his legs and his forehead on his knees. Aragorn crouched next to him. Legolas felt the air move as he made to reach out and touch the elf, but the touch never arrived.

Legolas was silent. His fingers were clasped so tightly together that the nails of one hand cut into the back of the other. A small trickle of blood ran over the his skin which Aragorn automatically wiped away with his sleeve.

As Aragorn touched him Legolas flinched and the man withdrew his hand as if he had been burned. Unlike the elves who had brought him up Aragorn was extremely tactile but Legolas was an elf and he did not welcome an uninvited touch.

Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn's and hated the hurt that he saw there. That he had put there. Guilt pressed down on him painfully.

Aragorn stood and shrugged. He looked down at Legolas. The elf had buried his face in his knees once more and looked more than ever like the child he claimed not to be. Legolas heard his retreating footsteps and pushed himself into a standing position, feeling foolish for displaying his emotions so obviously. "Stay, Aragorn. We have spent many nights together, there is no need for you to leave." Without saying another word, Legolas lay on one of the beds and slept. He floated on a wave of half-consciousness, aware of when Aragorn lay himself down, noticing the difference in breathing when the man fell asleep. Finally he let himself drift off and slept himself.

---

Legolas was dreaming. He knew it was a dream and tried to wake but could not rouse himself. He was looking at Haldir's body, as he had that morning. Someone gripped his shoulder and turned him around forcibly, pushing him towards the other single grave. The someone stayed behind Legolas, painfully gripping his neck and shoulder, preventing him from seeing who his assailant was. He was forced to look at the body lying there.

Aragorn.

There was no sign of an injury, like Haldir he looked as though he were simply asleep, but his face had the pallor of death. Legolas struggled against his unseen and unknown assailant until he was suddenly released.

"Legolas! You were dreaming." Aragorn's face swam into view through Legolas tear filled eyes.

Legolas rubbed at his face, surprised that it was wet and looked around him. He was hunched in the corner of the bed, huddled against the wall. Aragorn knelt beside him with a concerned look.

"Did I wake you?"

"No matter," he sat back on his heels. "Do you want to tell me what it was? It took some while to wake you." Aragorn twisted his hands together. Legolas wondered if it was to prevent himself from reaching out to touch him.

"I... you were... Haldir..." Legolas took a gulping breath and calmed himself. "It was just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Aragorn looked doubtful and made no move.

"It was just a dream." Legolas stood up a little shakily. "I think I will go outside for a while."

---

The sun was still high in the sky when Legolas reached Hama's grave. The work party had filled the others and women were putting small bunches of flowers on them in readiness for the sunset commemoration ceremony. Legolas idly wondered where they had managed to find so many of the white blooms as he watched a man cover the Captain and his sons. He had not taken part in many funeral ceremonies, and never with Men. He wondered that so few people were about to watch the covering of their kin, and made a mental note to ask Aragorn about this strange tradition.

Aragorn! Legolas turned his thoughts from the man, now was not the time to try to sort through the complex emotions the name conjured up.

The grave-filler walked over to where Haldir lay and looked at Legolas for permission to begin. Having received no sign from the elf he hovered by the small heap of earth as if unsure whether or not to cover the body. On impulse Legolas took the spade from him and, after taking one last look at Haldir, he began the awful task of burying his friend.

One of the women, all of whom had their faces covered with veils, placed three bunches of flowers on Hama's grave and stood with her head bowed. She had her back to him and Legolas wondered idly if she, too, had lost husband, sons or brothers to Sauron's army. A small basket was hooked over one of her arms, containing a solitary bouquet of Simbelmynë. When Legolas was finished she came to stand beside him and he recognised her as the boy, Háleth's mother.

Silently she proffered her basket and Legolas laid the flowers himself in the middle of the fresh earth. Tears pricked at his eyes once more and on this occasion he did not jerk away from contact as she patted his arm before she left him alone to his thoughts. A small breeze riffled through the white petals as he listened to the quiet sounds of her retreat to the fortress.

"The time of the elves is truly over," Legolas did not acknowledge Aragorn's arrival but spoke to Haldir.

"But the alliance will not be forgotten by those who remain." Aragorn held tightly on to his belt as he spoke. "I fear that many have left for the Undying Lands. Soon none will remain."

"You fear that Arwen, too, will leave." Legolas saw well how Aragorn flinched from that thought, although his friend made no movement other than a tightening around his eyes.

"I love Arwen and would have her for my Queen, but how can I ask her to stay here with me. Alone." Aragorn's made a helpless gesture with his hands, as though he did not know where to put them. He dropped his eyes. "And if we do not prevail..." the rest went unspoken. "Perhaps you should consider leaving too."

"I will fight at your side until the Dark Lord is defeated." Legolas took a step towards Aragorn then halted abruptly. His voice hardened, "unless you have no need of my bow?"

"Legolas, I would never presume to give you orders. It was your choice to come this far, and it will always be your decision if you stay or go home." There was an uncomfortable silence, it seemed to the elf that they had reached a stalemate. He decided to break it.

"Aragorn, Arwen loves you." Legolas took the final step which took him face to face with the man. He reached out and fingered Aragorn's pendant.

"Is it enough? Is love enough to keep her here, when she could spend eternity with her folk?" He grabbed Legolas' wrist and looked into the elf's eyes. Legolas hated the uncertainty he saw there, and made no move to break Aragorn's hold.

"What do we have if we do not have that? Perhaps you will receive word."

"Perhaps." Aragorn's knuckles were white. He suddenly let go his grip on Legolas. "Perhaps not. But we have duties, I must attend to the injured. Have you any skill at healing?"

"Little enough," Legolas' instinct was to remain where he was, anything other than appear to be following the orders of a mortal man. He dismissed the thought as unworthy and childish; in any case there were elves among the injured. As a prince it was his duty to attend them. "I will do what I can. I can do nothing for those who lie here."

The chamber was a silent relief after the moans and screams of the sick rooms. Legolas closed the door behind him and looked around in the dim, orange firelight. Aragorn was asleep. He lay facing the door, wrapped in his cloak and Legolas saw that he was holding tightly onto Arwen's jewel. They had worked almost non-stop for hours with no rest and only a snatched bite here and there. Yet, despite his obvious fatigue, Aragorn slept fitfully; he had only gone to his bed when it became clear that in his exhausted state he would do more harm than good.

Legolas had lingered awhile, prowling the courtyard like a caged beast, giving Aragorn time to fall asleep before he, too, retired to their chamber.

Aragorn mumbled something indistinct and pulled fretfully at the pendant. Legolas could only guess at what worried the man and felt powerless to comfort him. Legolas was unsure of the welcome he would receive if he attempted it, so he removed his boots then collapsed, fully clothed, onto his bed.

---

Legolas was home walking in his beloved forest. An indistinct, shadowy figure accompanied him. He knew that she was his lover, but he did not know her name. The sun shone, filtering through the late spring leaves suffusing everything with a pale green glow. All around him were the signs of new life. This was his favourite time of year; a time of hope and new beginnings. They arrived at his favourite spot, a quiet, mossy glade by a stream. The water sang as it bubbled and splashed over smooth stones and pebbles. Unseen birds twittered high above as they collected food for their young. Legolas could feel the trees pushing their roots beneath the soft, loamy ground, absorbing nourishment from the earth. All around him an aura of calm pervaded the forest, even while the birds and insects flew around the greenery and unseen small animals scurried through the undergrowth. Occasionally a fish jumped in the water, flashing silver before disappearing back into the cool depths.

Nothing had changed since he had been here last and Legolas felt safe. He sat on a fallen log and gazed into the water. Dappled sunlight glinted on the surface of the brook, making ever changing patterns as the clear water flowed over its rocky bed. There was a small waterfall at one end of the glade and tiny rainbows danced above the watersplash.

Legolas' companion stood behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, rubbing small circles at the base of his neck with her thumbs. He leaned into her like a cat, relaxing as she increased the pressure, and closed his eyes. After a while he felt her gently push his shoulder and he turned towards her. Soft lips met his and he kept his eyes closed as he slid his hands up her arms, over her shoulders to cup her face.

Now their kiss became deeper, more insistant and passionate. He opened his mouth under hers and felt the first flush of arousal as her tongue stroked its way around his and her arms tightened around him. Giving himself over to the sensations pulsing through him Legolas slid one arm around her back, and stroked her cheek with his other hand. He felt her light touch as her hands roamed across his back.

Legolas heard the familiar twang of a bow, the thrum of flying arrows but as though they were under a spell neither he nor his companion could move. She stiffened and gripped his upper arms tightly. She dug her fingers into his flesh, hurting him. Legolas opened his eyes and watched in horror as she tried to speak. She moved her mouth urgently, but no words came out. Her eyes clouded with pain before she slumped onto him: Three arrows with dark fletching protruded from her back.

He held her awkwardly in his arms, willing her to live while knowing that she would not. There was nothing he could do to help her. Stroking her forehead he whispered what comforting words he could and helplessly watched the light leave her eyes forever. Legolas carefully pulled the arrows from his lover's back and laid her on the mossy ground. His knuckles were white as he broke the arrows over his knee – no elvish weapons, these, but made by the hand of Man – his face wet with tears for his dead love.

Men! Men had taken his lover. With all his being, and against his usual nature, Legolas hated them, hated their arrogant ways, hated the way that they stormed through his forest and his life without paying him, or his kind, the slightest regard. His head snapped up at the sound of a twig breaking on the other side of the glade. Legolas knew, before his eyes lighted on the figure standing before him, who it would be.

Aragorn!

The man's sword was unsheathed, glinting obscene and lethal in the peaceful sunlight. Legolas raised his hand to his knife and belatedly remembered that he had not come prepared for battle, but for a tryst. His eyes met Aragorn's and he knew that the man would not stop until every last elf was gone from Middle-Earth. In a flash they were upon each other, Legolas fighting for his life with his bare hands against a man armed to the teeth. Even as he advanced he knew it would be the last thing he ever did, that the last thing he would ever see would be the anger radiating from this man's eyes. Even in his fury the elf was filled with sorrow. How had it come to pass that Men – those who were once allied so closely to the first born – were now bent only on their destruction?

A sudden pain flared as Aragorn's gauntleted fist connected with Legolas's face.

"Legolas!"

His eyes flew open. "Aragorn?" Legolas scrambled as far away as the confines of the corner bed would let him. He looked at his companion with wary, accusing eyes. "You killed her. You wanted to kill me, all of us."

"Her? Who? Were you dreaming?" Aragorn looked confused. "You fell. I was trying to push you back into bed." Aragorn indicated his own face. "You are hurt? Let me look at that."

"It is nothing." Legolas touched his finger lightly to his nose, surprised to find it sticky with blood. "You woke me." He repeated. Aragorn's gaze pierced him and Legolas dropped his eyes and looked down at his hands. The anger he had felt in his dream resurfaced and he clenched his fists.

In common with all elves, Legolas had huge reserves of stamina. But the toils and strains of the last months had severely drained these and left him tired and edgy. He struggled to make sense of his emotions, but in his current state of exhaustion and confusion he had difficulty separating his dream from reality.

"A nightmare?" Aragorn moved closer.

Legolas, still caught up in his dream, assumed a defensive stance. As Aragorn came towards him he recoiled holding up one hand as if to ward off a blow. "They are all dead, and it is your fault."

Shocked at the elf's reaction Aragorn arrested his advance and knelt beside the bed. "No, Legolas!"

Legolas' eyes were wild, he ignored Aragorn and continued his raving. Two bright spots of colour on his otherwise pale cheeks and his clenched fists betrayed his rage. Through clenched teeth he ground out his next words. "You wasted their lives. They came to your aid – we came to your aid, because they believed in you. And they are all dead." He sprang to his feet and loomed over Aragorn, who remained kneeling. This enraged the elf further. "You ignore me now as you ignored me then. You should have consulted me. Perhaps they would still be here now, to fight your battles for you!"

Aragorn got to his feet. He let his hands fall to his sides, palms towards Legolas; a gesture he hoped would placate the elf somewhat. "If you had been there to consult, do you not think that you would have been included in our plans? You ran away in your despair. You gave up the fight before it began." The words were not exactly what he wanted to say, and he waved his arms in frustration.

A seething mass of resentment, bitterness, confusion and sorrow boiled up and spilled out of Legolas. In a swift, graceful movement, he bent and picked up his knives, still in their scabbards. "If that is what you think of me," he shrugged his shoulders into the straps and fastened the buckles with deft fingers. "You will have no further need of my services. I pledged you my bow – you may call me oath-breaker, but I will not fight for or with those who have no respect for me or my kind." He would have been on the other side of the room had Aragorn not grabbed his arm as he passed. Legolas gave no indication of the pain in his bicep where Aragorn's fingers bit cruelly into his muscle, indeed it only reminded him further of his dream. In his high state of agitation Legolas refused to show the slightest sign of weakness to this man.

"You would run away – again?" Aragorn said earnestly. "Where will you go? It is too dangerous for you to flee to your father, and I cannot spare you an escort, royal Prince or no."

Legolas freed himself, with difficulty, and made a low bow. "Then I throw myself on your gracious mercy, oh King of Men. Give me shelter from the hordes until my Father may send me an escort," he mocked.

The air in the chamber almost crackled with the animosity emanating from Legolas. Suddenly Aragorn spoke into the void between them. "What manner of evil is this, that turns us against each other, Legolas? Do you now hate me so much that you would endanger not only yourself but our task too?" His voice was calmer now, and he made placating movements with his hands to emphasise this. He visibly relaxed as Legolas anger began to dissapate.

"Our task? The fellowship is broken, Aragorn." Legolas collected himself with difficulty. "But you are correct. The blame lies with me. I should not have despaired so."

"Legolas," Aragorn spoke quietly but firmly. "The blame for the deaths of your kinfolk lies neither with you nor with me. That is the doing of the Dark One."

The fight evaporated out of Legolas, he shrugged. "I should have trusted in you. In Gandalf."

"Your trust has been tested sorely in recent times, Legolas." Aragorn chanced a step closer to the elf. "But only now did you surrender to your fear. For my part I am sorry that I did not include you in our plans. I should have sought you out."

Legolas looked ashamed and sorrowful in equal measure. He toyed with a strand of his hair, twisting it around his fingers in an intricate pattern. Nearly overwhelmed, once again, by the strength of his feeling for the man standing opposite him he suppressed his instinct to flee. "I should not have allowed my fear to best me."

"There is no shame in fear, Legolas. That is what keeps us alive at such times."

"I was not afraid for myself," whispered the elf. "I could not bear it if something happened to you."

He looked more carefully at the man noting that his face had more lines than previously, he looked careworn and exhausted. And yet there was an expression in his eyes that had never gone away: hope. Hope for the future of middle earth, for the success of the Ringbearer, for future alliances. Still it gnawed at Legolas that he was held in so little regard that the deployment of the Elven archers had been made without any input from him. He remained where he was, a tightly strung bow ready to snap at the slightest touch.

"I asked you before, Legolas. With whom are you really angry? With me? With yourself?" There was a short pause before he spoke again. "I will not fight you, friend. You must do what your heart tells you. What do you want of me, Legolas? How can I make amends?"

Legolas noted how he swayed slightly where he stood and in an instant all his animosity was forgotten. Here was the man he had followed through unspeakable horrors, the man he had sworn to help, to whom he had pledged his bow. He had been a rock to the rest of the fellowship, but the cares of the journey and the leadership which he had so unwillingly assumed seemed now to weigh too heavily for Aragorn to support alone.

"It is I who should make amends. I am not angry at you but myself. You know well my feelings for you."

"Yes, but I do not understand, Legolas. I did not think you were a lover of males."

"Aragorn..."

"Legolas, I must understand what ails you. What you want from me." Aragorn sat in the chair opposite Legolas. He faced the elf across the small table where they had breakfasted. "We succeeded by the grace of all things good in defending the Hornburg. But at such a cost!" Obviously agitated Aragorn stood and recommenced pacing as he spoke. Legolas' eyes followed him across the room and back, as he fired his words rapidly into the room. "Many elves lie dead, men also. They looked to me to lead them to victory, but do you think that they expected to pay such a price? I was brought up by your folk, I lived with them, ate with them, slept with them. We laughed together. They are my people as much as they are yours – more so since many of them were sent by Lord Elrond." Legolas winced at this last. "And now, because of me and my line they lie in the cold earth. The Rohirrim accepted me and followed me to their deaths. Good men who should even now be laughing with their families – but the fates decreed otherwise. The Fellowship is sundered. Merry and Pippin are exposed to all manner of foulness. Gandalf has returned, but for how long? And what of Frodo and Sam? What of their journey to perils unknown and unknowable?

"Boromir is dead. You thought him weak and dangerous, but it could have been me. We did him a great wrong when we kept secrets from him. He was an honourable and brave man, one of the bravest – I cannot say with my hand on my heart that in his place I would not have succumbed to the Ring."

Unconsciously, it seemed to Legolas, Aragorn caught hold of his pendant. He ceased his pacing and stopped directly in front of the elf, speaking quietly. "Arwen will leave for the undying lands with her father and doom me to a life alone, or she will stay and doom herself. She will go against her father's wishes, or against mine." They both heard the unspoken words: Added to this, your love for me – which I cannot return.

Shocked into silence by the passion and force of Aragorn's long monologue, Legolas stayed perfectly still, cursing himself inwardly that he was only adding to this man's cares instead of sharing his burden.

"Legolas, I would not hurt you. But if I am the source of your disquiet, then I only seek to help you."

"You cannot."

"I will not go into the next battle, knowing that you feel this way, having done nothing."

"Aragorn, I do not wish to speak of this. I am sorry, you have worries enough."

"It would be one care less if I knew that you stood beside me. Please, Legolas, I must understand."

At last Legolas raised his eyes. "I am not a lover of males, I think. I have had lovers and they were female." He flushed again, remembering his erotic dream. "But I did not truly love anyone up to now. Perhaps I am a lover of males." He gave a hollow laugh. "My father is even now arranging my marriage. He seeks to bring our people closer to the others of the first born. There is no elf-maid of high enough rank in Mirkwood to please him, and so he searches for a good match for me. Of course, unless he leads his people to the Undying Lands there is only one suitable. And she is promised to another." His eyes were drawn to Aragorn's necklace.

Aragorn saw where Legolas' gaze was directed. "I did not know." He fingered the pendant. "Legolas, what we have been through together..." he searched for the words, "...it is easy to forget that you are a prince and I am a king in waiting." Aragorn sounded almost wistful for the hardships that they had endured on their journey from Rivendell. "But even so, I thought that your father would let you chose your own bride."

"We do not all have that luxury, Aragorn. I am the son of a King, no matter how hard it may be to remember that. My marriage will serve our people, not me. You can not imagine some of the offers," the word was full of disdain, " my father has received for me. As if I were something to be bought and sold."

"That is why you came to Imladris? To escape your father?" Aragorn's tone was sympathetic, but his expression was one of shock. Duty was something that came naturally to him, it had been drilled into him since he was a small child, and he was sure that it had been the same for his companion. But even so, he had been free to pursue his own love, and he had thought it would be the same for others who lived among the elves.

"There is no escape from my duty. Fathers will have their will: it is a child's place to obey."

"That is the truth, Legolas. None of us truly follow the path we would. When we are but small we dream of what we will do when we are out of our parents' control, but when we reach maturity we realise that we must all follow the path set out for us." Aragorn sounded sad, and Legolas had a sudden vision of the small boy he once was, hiding with his mother among the elves.

Again compassion flared in the elf, he could not escape the fact that he loved this man, no matter that this love was neither sought nor returned. "Aragorn, she will return to you."

"She must do her father's bidding. As you must. As we all must, even though we may wish it otherwise." A tight smile accompanied Aragorn's words. "We learn to be happy with what fate gives us."

"You are truly happy?" Disbelief was written all over Legolas' face.

"No. I am disturbed by many things." Aragorn sighed. "But we have strayed from the subject. If it was not to escape your father, why did you attend the Council of Elrond and agree to join the Fellowship?"

There was a long pause before Legolas resumed speaking. His eyes darted around the room, looking but not seeing, trying to find the words to explain to Aragorn something that he did not wholly understand himself. "You know well that it was our mistake that let Gollum escape, even now we may pay a high price for that folly. It was my duty as the King's son to apologise in his place, and make reparation."

"That was your only reason?"

"When you came with Mithrandir and gave Sméagol over to our safe-keeping, you spoke only with my father. It was Mithrandir who explained the importance to me and the captains of the guard of keeping him safely locked away. You both stayed only a few days, but I saw you often during that time, although you do not remember me. I envied your freedom as a Ranger, your purpose. Everything you did, everything you said had a reason. You are noble born, but nothing was beneath you – your life was hard but rewarding. I think that I fell in love with the idea of you." Legolas was shocked at how he laid himself bare to the man, but once he had started he could not stop. "When we met at Imladris, when I saw you again, my heart flew with the birds. Then I knew that it was not just the idea that I loved, but the man. I am sorry."

Legolas immediately wished he could take back his words. Aragorn looked stricken, his face was pale with his lips pursed together. Legolas could only watch as the silence between them lengthened and became intensely uncomfortable. After some time he belatedly realised that he was still standing by the door, ready to leave. He opened it and announced his intention to go.

Aragorn was next to him in two strides, he slammed the door with more force than necessary. "Legolas, wait."

"No, Aragorn. I cannot. My words have shocked you, although I do not know why. You have known how I feel about you since we left Elrond's house, I think."

"Yes." Aragorn rubbed his face. "But what you want of me... I love Arwen, and even if she were to reject me and go with her father, I cannot give you what you want."

"You do not know what I want. I think you are speaking only of a physical desire," he coloured but struggled on. "I do not ask that of you. I know it is not your custom..." Legolas gestured helplessly. "We cannot speak of this, there is too much that I do not understand."

"Legolas, I..."

The elf made an impatient gesture and cut him off. "No. I have been weak. Given in to my desire to close to you. It will not happen again." Legolas was resolute. "Your intention is to gather what forces there are and leave for Minas Tirith I think?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It is what I would do in your position."

Aragorn stood up quickly, knocking his seat over. The wooden chair clattered loudly in the silence, but he made no move to right it. "You will leave us? We need you. I need you." This last was almost lost in the noise of the falling furniture, but Legolas heard it all the same.

"No! I pledged you my bow and my life, and I will not go back on that now. Aragorn... Estel," Legolas' new resolve was sorely tested by the look of distress on Aragorn's face and he he deliberately used his elvish name to soften the blow. "I will travel with the company of elves, such as remain. We will travel alongside you – it is not our intention to desert Men in their hour of need. I will not desert you."

Aragorn took a step backwards, nearly falling over the chair behind him. He straightened it impatiently and strode towards the elf, who could not guess at his purpose and took an involuntary step backwards, wary of the unreadable expression on Aragorn's face. This reaction stopped Aragorn in his tracks. He gestured helplessly with his hands. "Legolas, wait. You have spoken, now let me have my say." He waved his arm to the chair vacated by the elf. "Sit. Listen. Please." Aragorn seemed to realise that Legolas would not come back unless he moved out of the way; he retreated behind the table.

Legolas hovered, wanting simultaneously both to bolt and to remain. He approached the chair, but instead of sitting, stood behind it holding its back in a white-knuckled grip. He was using it as a shield, but against what he did not know.

Aragorn looked as though he was searching for the right words, and Legolas waited with growing impatience. He had spoken without thinking clearly, and was now regretting it. Eventually Aragorn spoke. "When we brought Gollum to Mirkwood, it was partly because of your father's renowned ability to keep prisoners."

Legolas eyes flickered at the reminder of his father's darker side and Aragorn was quick to apologise. "Legolas, I am sorry, it was thoughtless."

"Your apology is not needed. I am well aware of our reputation, however ill deserved." Legolas' voice was cold.

"Your people need not apologise for their compassion, Legolas. Gandalf has said that vile creature has a further part to play in this," Aragorn gestured vaguely with his hand but did not mention the Ring, even though they were alone and nobody could overhear them. "For my part I am ashamed that I would have killed him outright if the wizard had not stayed my hand." Legolas inclined his head in acceptance of Aragorn's apology and the man took a breath before continuing. "I saw you while I was a guest of your father's, and though I never spoke to you I noticed that you are well liked and respected among your folk. The king's decision to send you to Rivendell was a good one, one that I welcomed and you have proved that time and again since we set out."

The elf's grip on the chair-back slackened but he remained standing. "I do only my duty."

"You do more than your duty. Yours is the strength that allows me to carry on when mine falters, Legolas. Reconsider your decision not to travel alongside me. I need you."

The words hung heavy between them. "Why?"

"You ask me why?" Aragorn looked confused now. "Our tribulations of the last months are not enough of a reason for you? We have survived the bloodiest battle of our lives, and now we are surrounded by the bodies of our kin. We need you. I need you."

Legolas blanched. "I, too, carry these cares in my heart but I did not realise..." He sat down. Resting his elbows on his knees he buried his face in his hands. His next words were muffled, but his capitulation was clear. "I will do as you wish. But know that it is not my choice." He looked up and his face was devoid of expression. "I will leave when this war is over, and not before. But you must give me your word that you will not make me stay."

"I ask you to stay. To aid us."

"You ask but you will not command me. Why? Because I am a King's son? And yet you do not consult me in matters of war. What do you want of me, Aragorn?" A small scab had formed where he had previously injured himself and now he sat picking idly at this trying not to notice that Aragorn was moving around the table towards him. They would achieve nothing like this, but Legolas did not now know how to withdraw.

Aragorn took two strides and knelt before him. He took the elf's hands in his. "You think I use your love for me against you? This is not true. I mark it well, but it is not abused. But I am no lover of males. My love for you is as a brother, as a warrior. I can offer you no more than that. I love Arwen, and whatever choice she makes, I am hers and hers alone, we are bound by our troth." He held firm as Legolas tried to pull away. "Legolas, what you think you feel for me will pass. Of that I am sure."

Aragorn reached out and Legolas pulled away, not wanting any contact. The man persisted touching the elf lightly on his cheek. Not for the first time Legolas was surprised at the gentleness that came from such a battle hardened man, and it was only with great effort that he pushed Aragorn's hand away. "Aragorn, let me go."

---

Legolas ascended the long, winding staircase to the highest point of the Hornburg, and as he had before let his eyes rove over the plains before him. The strong wind whipped his hair and caused his cloak to billow behind him. It hurt to know that his love was unrequited, and yet that knowledge did not pain him as much as he thought it would. If anything it made his resolve to leave Aragorn's company at the first opportunity stronger.

He stood for a long time watching the fortress of Helm's Deep begin to recover from the battle. There would be a ceremony for the fallen that evening, after which the King and his advisors would plan their strategy for their next move. Legolas determined that he would attend that meeting of captains, he would insist on that point if necessary. Gradually he controlled his emotions, pushing them down until he felt that he could face Aragorn without betraying himself. Feeling slightly ashamed that he had allowed his feelings to better him over the last weeks he decided never to let it happen again. From this day, he resolved, Legolas the Elf would remain cool and detatched, observing but not immersing himself in the lives of those around him.

Out of habit Legolas continuously scanned the horizon and the plains before him. Helm's Deep had been built for defence, and it offered a panoramic view, especially from this, the highest point. He heard Gimli puffing up the last few stairs and Legolas turned to his friend as he emerged from the doorway. "Master Dwarf, I am beginning to worry that you are turning into an elf. You can hardly bear to stay away from this place." A movement caught his eye and he snapped his head round, shading his eyes as he scoured the horizon.

Gimli's eyes narrowed but he gave no rejoinder and Legolas wondered if his new resolve had somehow manifested itself into something tangible that others would notice. "You have seen something?"

"They are some way off, but we will have thirty guests for this evening.

"Man or elf?" Gimli walked over to Legolas. "Or perhaps dwarf?" He added hopefully.

"Man and elf." Legolas returned to his examination of the approaching riders. They were moving fast and soon he gave an exclamation. "Good news indeed, Gimli, we shall have news from Imladris and further afield. The Rangers approach – and with them the sons of Elrond" He jumped down from his vantage point and headed down the stairs, calling behind him. "Come, Gimli, Aragorn must hear of this."

---

Aragorn stood, flanked by Gimli and Legolas, waiting to greet the Dunedain. Of all the watchers gathered at the main gate, only Legolas did not have his eyes turned to the approaching riders. Instead he examined Aragorn's face, noting the strain that showed around his eyes and his tightly clenched jaw. Legolas moved closer, noting how the man gripped his belt tightly.

Elladhan and Elrohir were the first to greet their foster-brother, swiftly followed by Halbarad and the other Rangers. Their arrival brought relief to the elf; Aragorn would barely notice him over the next days, giving Legolas time to bury, for good, his feelings for the man. He watched as Elrond's sons hugged Aragorn, unusual for elves, but, he assumed, they were well used to Aragorn's need for physical contact with those around him.

With shouted orders to take care of the horses the new arrivals followed a steward into the great hall, where they would have the chance to impart their news.

Aragorn turned to Legolas. "They bring news from all corners, and from Imladris."

"Arwen?" Inquired Legolas.

Aragorn nodded.

"Whatever she chose, she has had to leave one that she loves." Legolas' words did nothing to comfort Aragorn.

"The Valar help her, Legolas, that her decision does not break her heart."

Or yours, Legolas added silently. He spoke aloud. "Enough hearts have broken in this war, by all that is good I pray that Arwen's does not join their number."