~Prisoner~

 

Author: Ella

 

Rating: P-13 (for violence and torture)

 

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Wish I did. All is property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No money is being made. This is for pure enjoyment only.

 

Summary: AU. King Arathorn banishes all elves from the face of Middle-Earth, and kills those who don't leave. Legolas, while trying to survive in a place where elves are outcasts, gets captured and becomes a prisoner to Prince Aragorn. Now Aragorn has to choice between what is right, and the respect of his father.

 

Author's Note: Okay, I know this is totally AU, but my crazy imagination has to go somewhere. Anyway, this is my weird version of how our favorite elf and ranger met. Just to fill you in, everything in this story is all upside down. Basically, Gilraen died when Aragorn was very young so therefore, she never took Aragorn to Rivendell (therefore, he knows nothing of Elves). Arathorn, who is a cruel, heartless, elf-hating (you'll find out why later) king, raises Aragorn on his own and raises him to despise Elves. I think that's all you need to know. Everything else will be said in the story, I promise. Also, please forgive me for any grammar/spelling mistakes I could have made. I tried editing this the best I could, but English is not my native tongue.

 

Also, Elvish is in /  /, Common Speech regular.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

 

He ran. He ran as fast as Valar would let him. All around him was a disturbing noise of silence. All was so soundless that his light feet echoed throughout the forest. Yet he paid no heed to the inert atmosphere that surrounded him, caring only about running on- running fast and far away from this place. Legolas spotted a tree and swiftly climbed into it. He looked down to see how far back the guards of Gondor were. Apparently, they had fallen behind, for the elf's agility aloud him to move much faster on foot than them. The Prince of Mirkwood cursed himself for being found after years of hiding.

 

Several years ago, King Arathorn banished all Elves from Middle-earth and forced them to leave for Valinor before their time. The hands of Arathorn himself immediately executed any elf seen on Middle Earth.  After his entire family was killed, Legolas made a vow upon the grave of his father that he shall not leave until he has avenged the death of his family and all the other Elves that were brutally murdered. He also had a task to accomplish. One given to him by his mother.

 

How could he be this careless? How could he have let himself be caught?

 

********************

Flashback

********************

 

"Get up!" yelled Anarcis, captain of the army of Gondor, pulling a poor child up on his feet.

 

"Let me go! I have done nothing to you!" the boy screamed back in fear.

 

Legolas glanced out from behind a bush at the scene unrolling before him. He has been tracking this group of soldiers for quite some time.

 

"You're a thief! You stole from the King of Gondor."

 

"I was hungry. I hadn't eaten in three days."

 

"Tell that to someone who cares. But right now, you shall pay for your crimes." Anarcis signaled a soldier, who lifted the boy by the hand and dragged him over to a tree stump, slamming his palm down against it. Anarcis unsheathed his sword and was about to bring it down upon the boy's wrist.

 

Legolas couldn't let the man do this to the boy. He cared nothing for the human race, but he couldn't turn his back on an innocent child who stole food from the market just so he could eat. The Elf warrior leaped out from his place behind the bushes.

 

"Let the him go!" commanded Legolas.

 

"This is none of your business," said the captain. Legolas wore a hooded cloak, so his identity was unknown to the men. "Leave now, while you're still whole."

 

As if not hearing the man's words, Legolas promptly repeated himself.

 

"Let him go."

 

Anarcis moved away from the boy and advanced towards Legolas. The prince had his hand ready on his dagger. Not much a small dagger can do against many swords, but Legolas could not risk exposure by using his bow and arrows.

 

"I don't think you want to do this," said Anarcis, as he pointed his sword at Legolas.

 

"You're right, I don't. But I have to!" With those words, Legolas pulled out his dagger and pushed the sword away. "Run!" he yelled to the boy, who quickly did as he was told, taking advantage of the diversion. The group of soldiers immediately hurled at him, but the elven prince was much too quick. He gracefully moved around them, and took them out. But just as he leaped to the side, he slammed into a man and slightly tottered, causing his hood to fall back, exposing his fair Elven features.

 

"You're an Elf!" exclaimed Anarcis. "Your kind is forbidden. King Arathorn will be very pleased to get rid of you."

 

Legolas knew that he lingered here way too long. Fighting now was useless. He had to get out.

 

*********************

End of Flashback

********************

 

Legolas was brought back from his deep thoughts by the sound of the men below him. He watched as they ran forward, passing the tree. Once out of Legolas' keen sight and hearing range, he jumped down to the earth, landing in a cat-like grace. What he didn't encounter was the presents of another. Anarcis has been hiding behind the tree, expecting this. He came up from behind, and as soon as Legolas turned around, a harsh smote was delivered upon him, and he fell to ground. The last thing he felt before darkness claimed him, was the burning pain of rough ropes bounding his hands behind his back.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Bring him in!" commanded King Arathorn. Beside him, stood a young, dark-haired man, very similar to him in physical features. He was Aragorn, Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor. He curiously watched as the elf was being harshly dragged into the throne room and pushed down on his knees in front of the king. For the first time in his life, Aragorn saw an elf, the very creature he was raised to hate. He was surprised to see the confidence and the pride in the elf's fair face. Legolas shot him an angry glare, and looked back at Arathorn with hatred.

 

Arathorn got up and walked over to Legolas. He grabbed the prince's chin and tilted it up.

 

"So, you're another elf," spat Arathorn. "I thought you were all gone."

 

"Most of us are. Other lay slain by your hand!" exclaimed Legolas.

 

"I know. I did the best I could to rid Middle-Earth of your kind."

 

"Because you are afraid of us. Your were afraid of us then and you're afraid of us now. And of course what better way to rid yourself of fear than by killing the very source of it. You’re a coward, Arathorn! A man who is not worthy of any crown.”

 

For those words, Arathorn delivered an angry blow to Legolas' jaw, knocking him back. There was something familiar about this elf, but Arathorn couldn't figure out what. Aragorn watched his father return to his throne, and wondered what made him so angry at the elves in the first place. He was always just commanded to despise them, and never told why.

 

The guards' hands seemed to tire from holding Legolas so tight, so they loosened  their grip on Legolas' arms. This was all Legolas needed. He twisted out of their grasp and  jumped behind their backs, knocking the two heads together and sending them to the ground. The others charged at him, but he easily dodged them. It was a bit difficult fighting without his weapons, but they were taken when he was captured. This kind of reminded him of when he was a little elfling and he would fight with his brothers just for fun. But now they were dead. Dead and their blood was on Arathorn’s hands. That fact alone made him fight even harder.

 

Aragorn observed this with fascination. He marveled at the elf's agility and grace. The elf was strong, and yet he seemed to fight using none of his strength at all. Arathorn saw the interest his son had in the elf and didn't like it one bit.

 

Legolas was down to his last guard. He ducked out of the way as the guard tried to punch him, and delivered a powerful blow into the man ribs, knocking him unconscious. At that moment, Aragorn drew a sword from a soldier standing by and threw it to Legolas. Legolas, surprised, caught the sword, but when Aragorn drew his own he understood it was a challenge. Soon enough, the swords of man and elf  were crossed and the sounds of clashing metal echoed throughout the palace. Blue eyes locked into silver, and anger and pride ran through both opponents.

 

Though Legolas was a skilled swordsman, he was more accurate with the bow. As Legolas backed up, blocking the blows of Aragorn's sword, he tripped slightly. Any other man would have missed the error, but Aragorn was a great sword master, and took this to his advantage by clouting the sword out of the elf prince's hand, knocking him to the ground, and placing the blade to Legolas' neck. Yet, the Dunedain was not planning on killing him. Both just stayed, staring at one another.

 

"Enough!" said Arathorn. He go up and walked over to his son, grabbing the sword from his hand. He signaled the remainder of the guards to seize Legolas.

 

"It is time I finished the last of the elves!"

 

Arathorn raised the mighty blade, prepared to forever end the life of the last elf on Middle-earth.  This was moment the Arathorn waited for, for years. Especially since he recognized the elf as the son of Thranduil and Meluriel, two elves he despised more than any other.

 

Legolas watched the sharp edged metal come down on him, but he neither shut his eyes, nor shed tears. He watched, proud, prepared to face the death that awaited him. Just as Arathorn's hand was about to come down upon the elf, a strange force held his arm back. As he turned around, he found himself looking into the eyes of his young self… his only son and heir.

 

"What do you think you are doing, Aragorn?!" yelled the king of Gondor. "Do not tell me you have developed compassion for this elf. I told you, their kind is forbidden in this land."

 

"I developed no compassion for any creature, my lord, for you have told me many times that it is an emotion of weakness. I merely think that if this is one of the last elves of Middle-earth, then why just kill him? Isn't that a punishment that last for only a second? Don't you want to make it just a little longer?"

 

Arathorn looked at his son and then smiled in understanding.

 

"I have raised you well, my son. Now you think like a true king. It brings my mind peace knowing that I shall leave this world with a worthy heir upon my throne." He re-sheathed his sword and looked at the proud Elven prince on the ground before him. "Elves do hate to be held in captivity. I agree to your terms, Aragorn. Do with him as you please. I entrust him in your keeping." And with those words, he turned around and left. Aragorn watched his father take leave and turned to Legolas, who angrily glared back.

 

"So, elf," said the man with a grin upon his face. "Now you belong to me."

 

"I belong to no one," exclaimed Legolas rising to his feet, "Especially to a man who takes the role of a spoiled prince."

 

"I could have your tongue cut out for that tone, elf."

 

"My name is Legolas."

 

"Then I suggest you forget it. It's not going to do you much here. You forget I saved your life."

 

Legolas felt anger he's never felt before.

 

"You did nothing of the sort! All you did was prolong my suffering. I will die anyway, without my freedom. Not that it matters to you. Your father stripped you of all the goodness that your mother tried to keep within you."

 

Aragorn walked towards Legolas and hit him hard across the face, turning the elf's head away from him. But Legolas looked up and smiled, wiping the blood from the corner of his face.

 

"Did I strike a little too close to home for you, your highness?" he mocked.

 

"Don't you dare talk about my mother. You know nothing of her!"

 

"I know more than you, that's for certain."

 

"Enough!" Aragorn would take no more of this. He would make the elf pay. "Take him to the cells," he commanded the guards.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Legolas awoke, he found himself within four stone walls. It took him but a moment to realize that he was in a dungeon cell. He looked at his hands and saw that chains bound them. The elf's memory quickly returned to him. He remembered everything. Getting caught, almost being killed by Arathorn, being entrusted into the keeping of Aragorn, and being knocked out on his command. By Iluvatar, how could I let this happen? thought Legolas. How will I now fulfill my oath?

 

He shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp floor. Testing his binds he came to the conclusion that is would be impossible to break them.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone coming towards his cell. The door clanked and squeaked as it was opened and in came the Prince of Gondor.

 

"I see you have awakened, elf," said Aragorn. "I have brought you food." He took a bowl from a man standing by him and dropped it at Legolas' feet. Legolas didn't even look at it. Aragorn smiled. "Just like all your kind. All you elves value your pride more than your life."

 

Legolas felt wrath within him again, but contained it. "You know nothing of my people!" he replied.

 

/I know enough. /

 

The Mirkwood prince's eyes widened at the sound of his beloved tongue being uttered from the mouth of this adan.

 

/How is it that you know the language of my people? /

 

/I have my ways. /

 

This made Legolas even angrier. "The tongue of the First Born should not be spoken by anyone who is fouler that it."

 

"Are you going to eat or not?"

 

"No."

 

"Do you wish to starve to death?"

 

"It's better than the fate that will befall me if I stay."

 

Aragorn was just about to ask him what he meant, when Deor, a messenger of the king came in.

 

"My lord," he said, "the king sends for you. He needs to speak with you right away."

 

"I'll be right there," Aragorn answered. Deor bowed and left. Aragorn turned to Legolas. "You will learn to obey me."

 

"I will not obey one I do not respect," exclaimed the Mirkwood prince. Aragorn, in return to the reply, hit him hard across the face.

 

"You belong to me, elf. I can do with you as I please. Remember that." Aragorn made for the door. Before exiting, he turned his head back to Legolas and said, "We will continue our conversation once I return." And with those words, he left, leaving Legolas alone in the darkness. The elf already began to feel it. It was faint, but still there. He didn't have long.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"You called for me, father," said Aragorn entering his father's hall.

 

"Indeed," Arathorn got up and walked towards his son. "Aragorn, my son, I have a task for you."

 

"I am listening."

 

"You must ride to Rohan with the soldiers. Make for Edoras through the Eastfold."

 

Aragorn was a bit confused by the sudden news.

 

"I beg you explain the reasons for sending me on this journey."

 

"Thengel calls for our aid. His city is under attack by the Haradrim. They're defense is weak. I sent Ecthelion, but received word that he was slain. You must make haste, for I fear the city will fall. We cannot abandon our kinsman in their time of need."

 

"Very well, father. I will go on the morrow."

 

"No! Go now. This cannot wait"

 

Aragorn bowed his head. "As you wish."

 

Aragorn was just about to walk away, when his father called to him,

 

“How is your new prisoner?”

 

The young man smirked. “Stubborn and stupid, just like you always said they were. I think a lesson in obedience would be an order.”

 

As soon as Aragorn left the hall, Arathorn grinned and said, "Go, my son. And I have something I must take care of." With that, he went to the dungeons, making his way to Legolas' cell.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Legolas got up at the sound of someone approaching. Within seconds Arathorn was standing before him. Before Legolas could say anything the king ran up to him and punched him hard in the face, causing the elf to fall back. As Legolas tried to get up, Arathorn pressed the sole of his foot against Legolas' back, pushing him down again. He whimpered softly and tried to pull away. It was of no use.

 

"You despicable creature," spat Arathorn before delivering a mighty blow between the elf's shoulder blades. Legolas felt the air being knocked out of his lungs. Before the elf could regain his senses the king put his foot under Legolas' body and kicked his ribs, turning the Mirkwood prince over. He grabbed Legolas by the collar of his shirt and harshly pulled him up before forcefully throwing him against the wall. "Repugnant and miserable being!”  He walked up to the elf and kicked him again. "Do you have any idea what your father did to me?" Arathorn grabbed him by the hair and slammed his own head into Legolas.

 

"That was long ago, Arathorn," Legolas muttered barely. His eyes were open but he could barely see. Blood poured from a wound on his temple. 

 

"Silence!" He sent his fist into the elf's jaw, sending Legolas against the wall once more. "Why did you not leave?"

 

Once Legolas was able to regain his senses, he turned his head to Arathorn. "And run from you? Most of the elf's that sailed away were either women or young elflings. No warrior would run from his enemy. You just slaughtered all of them mercilessly, out of your own malice. Besides, I still have something I must do."

 

Angrily, Arathorn slammed his knee into Legolas' torso. "You're not telling him anything." He removed a large dagger out of his belt and plunged it into Legolas’ side as he knelt by him, drawing a blaring scream from his captive. "I'll make sure of that."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“My lord, your news thrills me, but I must say that I am bewildered. Did you report this to my father?”

 

"Indeed, I have, Lord Aragorn," replied. Thengel. "I sent this message with the news of Ecthelion's death. The soldiers sent by your father aided us more then we expected. Although we lost many, the Haradrim retreated. Is there something wrong?"

 

Of course there is, thought Aragorn. He just didn't know what it was yet. All he knew is that he needed to get back to Gondor and speak with his father immediately.

 

"Please," continued Thengel, "join us for a feast this evening. You can spend the night here and return to your kingdom on the morrow." A young maiden walked into the room. Her hair was of gold and stern was her face. "My daughter, Theodwyn.” Thengel introduced. “The feast is in honor of her betrothal to Lord Eomund. She will escort you to your quarters."

 

"I thank you for your hospitality, my lord, but I really must return home."

 

"So be it. Theodwyn, take the Prince of Gondor to the stables and let him choose the finest steed."

 

Aragorn bowed and followed the lady.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Aragorn and the men rode swiftly towards Minas Tirith through the night. A few hours into the next day, they arrived. The stable boy took Aragorn's horse as he dismounted, making his way towards the Great Hall, in search of his father. But once he got there, there was no one.

 

"Deor," Aragorn called upon the man.

 

"Yes, my prince?"

 

"Where is my father?"

 

"I don't know, sire. The last place he was seen was in the dungeons yesterday evening."

 

What is my father doing there? Aragorn asked himself. He went down to the prison cells and heard yells coming from the one where he had placed the elf. As he opened the door, a horrid sight greeted him there. Arathorn was mercilessly beating the elf who lay bleeding on the floor.

 

"What are you doing?!" he asked in horror. He couldn't believe this. Of course he knew that his father hated Elves, but to do this- this was too low.

 

Arathorn turned around, not expecting to see his son there. "You said the elf needed a lesson in obedience."

 

"Not like this!"

 

Arathorn didn't like his son's reaction. He walked straight up to him and looked him in the eyes. "Why does this troubled so much? He's just a prisoner. Even more so, an elf."

 

Aragorn didn't know what to say. He didn't know why this bothered him. He looked over his father's shoulder and saw the bleeding form on the ground. Why did it affect him to see the elf in so much pain? Aragorn looked back at his father. "You gave him to me, father. He is now my prisoner and only I have the right lay a hand on him."

 

Suddenly, a horrid thought came to him. "Is this why you sent to me to aid Rohan even when you knew that they did not need it? You knew that I wouldn't like this and you didn't want me to interfere."

 

"Aragorn, there are many things that you do not understand."

 

"Well then explain to me."

 

The King of Gondor was getting furious. He wanted to end this argument. "I will not defend myself to my own son. You apparently forget your place. But I ask you not to forget mine." With that he turned and walked out of the cell.

 

Aragorn watched his father leave and then he came towards Legolas and knelt by the elf, looking him over. There were many bruises covering his body and blood fell freely from the numerous cuts and welts. His clothes hung in tatters, while his back was almost bare. Scars of lashes were evident. But one injury truly shocked Aragorn. The deep wound on the elf's left side. It was about the size of his fist. His father's dagger was producing from it. The wound was made cleverly so not to kill. Yet it might as well of killed him due to the tremendous loss of blood.

 

Legolas looked up and locked eyes with Aragorn. Aragorn saw the pain and the sadness in them and for some reason it torn at his heart.

 

"Get me water and cloths," he yelled to the guards not taking his eyes off of Legolas. Confusion was evident on the elf's face. He didn't understand why Aragorn was helping him. Perhaps not all that was given was lost, even after all these years.

 

/Can you stand?/ spoke Aragorn in the Grey Tongue. Legolas only nodded and tried to pull himself up. But as soon as he got up, a small cry escaped his lips and his hands went to his side as he fell to his knees. Aragorn was quick to act as he caught the elf just as he was about to fall. He dragged him off to the side and leaned him against the closest wall. Legolas put his head back against the cold stone and closed his eyes. His body trembled slightly from the blood loss. He hated his pitiful state. He couldn't stand being so weak, especially in front of Aragorn. Despite everything, he didn't trust the man and was not planning on doing so.

 

Just then, a bowl of water and a pile of clean cloths were placed by Aragorn. He knew, though, that first he had to pull out the dagger before he did anything else.

 

/I need to get it out/ he told Legolas.

 

 Startled, Legolas opened his eyes. This was too much. He couldn't let Aragorn do this.

 

/Get away!/ he said.

 

"If it stays in you'll die."

 

"I'll die anyway. What does it matter? All is lost anyway."

 

Aragorn paid no heed to the elf's words. "Look, I can knock you out and do it that way, but in your state that won't be so good. It will be much easier for the both of us if I have your cooperation."

 

Legolas looked away and didn't answer. His silence told Aragorn that he agreed. Aragorn pressed one hand gently against the wound and had the other on the hilt. Legolas flinched. He really didn't like Aragorn touching him but what choice did he have? Slowly and carefully Aragorn pulled the dagger out. Legolas tried really hard not to cry out, but as Aragorn removed the dagger a jolt of pain rush through his entire body and his breath left him. He pressed his eyes shut and let out a scream in agony. It really couldn't get worse than this. 

 

Aragorn winced when he heard the elf's scream. He quickly put aside the dagger and covered the wound tightly with a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding. When he looked up at Legolas, he saw that the elf had lost his consciousness. Still holding down the cloth, he carefully picked Legolas up, surprised at his lightweight. Aragorn walked pass his guards and out of the cell, making his way to the House of Healing.

 

Upon his arrival, the healers cleared the way, allowing Aragorn to pass by. He placed Legolas on a bed and told the healers to do what they can for him. But they only stood there with their eyes to ground.

 

"Are you deaf?" he yelled. "He needs help."

 

"I am sorry, Lord Aragorn," said Bathma, one of the healers. "But we are under direct orders from the King."

 

"Leave then."

 

They bowed and left the room.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Legolas opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. His head spun and the light hurt. He looked around to study his surroundings. He was no longer in a dark prison cell. He was in a bright room on a bed. His body was aching, but he realized that his wounds were dressed. How long had he been out? It was hard to say. On the side he saw Aragorn mixing something in a cup before holding it over a candle.  Aragorn looked over at Legolas.

 

"Oh good, you have wakened. That means your strength is returning." He walked up and sat on the bed. "So, rumors of the amazing healing of the elves are true after all."

 

Aragorn placed an arm around Legolas' shoulders and propped him up, holding the cup to the elf's lips. But Legolas turned his head. This reaction didn't surprise Aragorn. He only smiled.

 

"If I wanted to poison you, elf, you'd be dead by now. I gave you a portion of this a few hours ago while you were unconscious." Legolas still didn't drink. "Come now, put aside your foolish Elven pride. It didn't get you far."

 

As if completely losing self control, Legolas obeyed and drank the tonic. The taste was horrible, but as the warm liquid trailed through his body, his strength seemed to return. A familiar feeling took him over. He had taken this tonic once before. Many years ago. 

 

"Thank you," said Legolas. Although he still disliked Aragorn, it was clear that the man truly wanted to help him.

 

"Your bandages need to be changed." Aragorn pulled back the covers and slowly removed the bandage on Legolas' side. The bleeding had stopped and now only dried blood covered the wound. Aragorn dipped a cloth in a bowl of water and washed all the blood away, revealing the nasty gash that lay beneath. As he wrapped the wound, Legolas asked,

 

"Why are you helping me?"

 

Aragorn paused, not answering the question. He felt Legolas' eyes on him, but he didn't look up. After a few moments, he proceeded  wrapping the wound.

 

"Tell me why my father hates Elves so much."

 

It was Legolas' turn to fall into silence. Painful memories haunted his mind.

 

"Speak," commanded Aragorn.

 

"It was a while ago, before you were even born. Gilraen, your mother was still alive and wed to your father." Legolas paused before continuing. "Your father was once a good ruler. Until he went mad."

 

"Mad?"

 

"Aye. Mad with power. He met with a seer, who told him that his child would grow to be a mighty ruler. One so powerful that he would over throw his father and deliver the world from an age of darkness.  When Gilraen became pregnant his lust for power over took him. He was so enraged that he would beat her and he killed his men for no reason. Your mother was frightened. She wanted to protect you. She ran out of Gondor, with the help of a few elves from Rivendell, foreseeing what might happen if she stayed. She made for Rivendell, hoping that the power of the Lord of Imladris will protect her from Arathorn. But Elrond had a vision of Arathorn coming after her. As much as he wanted to help, he could not risk Arathorn attacking Rivendell.  He did not have the power to stop him.

 

"It was then that Gilraen sought refuge in Mirkwood. Queen Meluriel gladly took her in and helped deliver the child, while the king organized a great army of elves, hoping to lead them against Arathorn. But Arathorn ruled with fear and when he asked for the help of the men of Middle-earth, none dared to oppose him. He attacked Mirkwood at night, burning down the trees and houses, and killing all. The elf women clutched their children and ran, while the Mirkwood warriors fought. They all lost their lives… each one of them.

 

 

"He entered the palace. King Thranduil and his men provided a distraction while you, your mother and Meluriel ran out of the palace. Meluriel lead Gilraen through a secret passage, but wasn't quick enough to escape herself. She was captured by Arathorn's men.  Thranduil's son watched as his father was mercilessly slaughtered by Arathorn, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. Before his death, Thranduil told his son to lead Gilraen and her boy, Aragorn, to Lothlorien. Grief taken, the prince obeyed. Knowing the forest better than any other elf in Mirkwood, he led Gilraen around the battle. The forest burned. Screams of men and women, and cries of children were all that the young prince heard, but he kept running on. Beings once so fair lay massacred."

 

Aragorn listened, wide eyed and watched as tears filled Legolas' blue eyes. He couldn't imagine that his father was this cruel. No, he wasn't just cruel. He was a murderer.

 

"Arathorn came riding upon his steed, blocking the path of the prince and Gilraen. His eyes were never before filled with so much hatred. Weaponless, the prince tried to fight him, but he could do so little for he was still young and did not yet possess the skills of a true Mirkwood warrior. Arathorn pushed him out of the way and ripped Gilraen's child straight out of her arms. With that, he plunged his sword into her heart and rode away, leaving the once beautiful kingdom in ruin."

 

Legolas closed his eyes and held his breath, trying to block out the tears that threatened to escape.

 

"Continue," commanded Aragorn, ignoring the pain that he saw the elf go through.

 

"Not long after, Arathorn came to rule most of the lands in the East. An order was passed that all elves Valinor, for he lost none of his former anger towards the First Born. At first, the Elves protested and even tried to against him. But it was only what was left of the wood Elves; Rivendell did not come to aid.  He made sure that word was spread that every elf seen was to be brought to him."

 

"What happened to Meluriel?"

 

"He took her, raped her, and then tortured her until her soul was broken and she did not have the will to live. She cut her vein."

 

"What happened to the young prince?"

 

Legolas looked up. "He escaped, but did not leave for Valinor. He swore upon the grave of his mother and father that he would take his revenge. He learned the art of combat not only from the battle that took place before him, but also from the creatures in the woods and people on the street.   But not so long ago, he was captured by Arathorn and now he sits before the very boy he once tried to save."

 

Aragorn guessed that the elf before him was indeed the prince. Otherwise, he wouldn't have remembered the story so distinctly. He now knew why Arathorn hated Legolas in particular so much. He saw it in his father's eyes when Legolas was brought before him.

 

"So that's why my father brought this upon you?”

 

"Yes and no. Indeed, he does hate me greatly for being Thranduil's son, but he did this to install fear in me, hoping that that fear would prevent me from telling you the truth."

 

"And yet you still told me?"

 

"I do not fear him.  He's nothing but a coward."

 

Suddenly, Aragorn felt as though he had been slapped. He jumped up to his feet. "My father is no coward!" he yelled. It didn't matter what his father did, he was still his father and no one had the right to call him a coward.

 

Legolas was startled by Aragorn's sudden reaction. He thought that by telling him the truth he would open the man's eyes.

 

"He killed your mother, Aragorn. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

 

"You…you lie, elf. I don't believe you. I…" He was interrupted by a knock. Deor walked in.

 

"Lord Aragorn, your father summons you."

 

Aragorn faced the man. "I am coming. In the meantime, take this elf back to his cell. He can continue his healing there."

 

Aragorn took one last angry glare at Legolas, before leaving to his father's hall.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Tell me it’s not true!” Aragorn yelled as he stormed into his father’s hall.

 

    Arathorn looked up. So the little elf has been talking, he thought to himself with a grin.

 

“Tell me it’s not true!” Aragorn repeated. “Tell me you did not kill my mother.” He walked straight up to his father and looked him in the eye.

 

The King of Gondor calmly stood up. “Of course I did, Aragorn. I didn’t have a choice.”

 

Aragorn couldn’t believe it. A terrible rage filled him. So everything the elf said has been true. “How could you?! She was my mother. She was an innocent women. She did nothing to deserve her fate. She-”

 

“Is that what the elf told you?” exclaimed the king, interrupting Aragorn. “And did he also tell you that your mother didn’t want you to be born? Did he tell you that she didn’t want you to rule Gondor? Did the elf tell you that the woman who was your mother wanted to give you up to the shadow of Dol Guldur? Why else do you think she went to Mirkwood?”

 

 “The elf said she was hiding from you.”

 

“And you believed him?”

 

Aragorn looked down. “I…I don’t know.”

 

Arathorn put his hands firmly on his son’s shoulders. “My son, have I ever done you wrong? Was it not I who raised you and taught you all that you know, preparing you to one day take my place on the throne?”

 

“Forgive me, father. I was wrong to question you.” If all his father had said was true, then Aragorn had no reason to doubt. His mother deserved death. Or did she? Is death ever a deserved punishment?

 

 “I ask only for one explanation, father,” Aragorn continued. “Just answer this: why so much blood had to be spilled for the sake of one woman? And why keep all of it hidden from me if what you did was indeed just?”

 

His father let out a sigh and turned away, avoiding Aragorn’s eyes. “I wanted to protect you. All of it was for you. Gilraen had the Elves on her side. Together they wanted to destroy me and my line. I had to get you back from their clutches before they gave you up to the darkness. Aragorn, you were a mere child. But you are destined to become a powerful ruler. They knew that. They knew that only the darkness could destroy you. I had to get rid of them. All of them. For your sake. As for keeping it hidden, you know now. Is that not all that matters?”

 

Thrown into bewilderment, Aragorn could not find any words within him. He believe his father. Didn’t he? What did his father gain from lying? But if what the elf said was true…no, it’s not true! It can’t be. The elf is just trying to trick me so that I may believe him, thought Aragorn. He wanted to save his skin and nothing else.

 

Both Aragorn and Arathorn were distracted when Deor walked in all of a sudden.

 

“My lords, Gandalf the Gray has come. He brings tiding with him. Whether ill or good I cannot say, but he demands to be seen.”

 

“Let him come. Gandalf has always been a good friend. His presents is always welcome,” said Arathorn.

 

With a bow, Deor stepped to the side and allowed the aged wizard to walk pass him.

 

“Hail, Arathorn, high King of Gondor!” exclaimed Gandalf.

 

“Welcome, Mithrandir. Please, come forth and reveal what news you bring with you, be they fair or foul.”

 

Gandalf looked from Arathorn to Aragorn and gave him a small nod, which the prince returned. He then spoke, “My news is for the King of the Gondor.”

 

Arathorn understood the hint and signaled his son to leave. Aragorn bowed his head slightly and left the hall.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Legolas lay upon the stone floor. His wound had reopened for the guards were not too careful with him as they led him back to a familiar place. Yet his wound was not what worried him, even if it did make him weaker than he wished to be.  He knew he would not last long, but he wanted to die with Aragorn knowing the truth nonetheless. However, that was no longer an option. Arathorn had confused him during all these years. It’s no wonder Aragorn had not believed him. Legolas had hoped that Gilraen’s blood still flowed within Aragorn and he would open his eyes.

_____________

Flashback

_____________

 

Gilraen’s screams echoed throughout the forest. Elven women were around her  passing around water and fresh cloths, all to busy to notice the young Mirkwood prince. He wasn’t  suppose to be there, but he was much too curious. Besides, he could be of help, though he didn’t know how.

 

Meluriel was by Gilraen’s side, holding her hand and whispering words of comfort. Sweat poured from Gliraen’s forehead and Meluriel gently wiped it with a wet cloth. Even in her current state, Legolas thought that Gilraen never looked lovelier. Just then, Nalithin, a healer elf, gave Gilraen a bundle she had in her hands. Gilraen took it gratefully.

 

“Aragorn, my son,” she said, smiling at the crying child within her hands. “You are the Hope of Men.”

 

The Hope of Men, Legolas thought to himself. “Estel,” he said aloud.

 

The women looked up upon hearing his voice, noticing for the first time that he was standing there. Gilraen smiled at him before saying, “Come here, Legolas.”

 

Legolas obeyed. He walked over to her bed and looked at the child she held to her bosom, who stopped crying and looked up at him with big silver eyes. The Elven prince carefully lifted the baby and held him in his arms.

 

 “Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” he said, “the Hope of Men you are. Alas, I name you Estel.” He placed a kiss upon the child’s forehead before returning him to his mother.

 

“He has your light in him,” Legolas told Gilraen. “And he will use it well.”

 

“Thank you, prince,” Gilraen answered.

 

“Come, Legolas,” Meluriel said, leading her son away. “Your father is in need of you. Arathorn shall be attacking soon. You need to protect Aragorn. Promise me you will protect him at all costs and will not let him walk the path of his father.”

 

“I promise mother.”

 

______________________________

End of Flashback

______________________________

 

Tears clouded his eyes as Legolas remember Gilraen and his mother. He had failed them both. Aragorn will never again be Estel. With that, darkness overtook him and his eyelids fell.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Arathorn robes suddenly fell on the marble floor as he rose up sharply. The news of the wizard enraged him beyond his expectation. He knew that Gandalf’s arrival would not bring anything benefiting him, but to hear that his own soldiers- men he trusts with his life- would revolt against him, just made him furious. He thought that he had made that quite clear to his people and that the fear he made them experience would block out any possible thoughts they might have for revolt. Under his rule the consequences for treason were so much worse than death. But apparently it wasn’t as obvious as he would have liked it to be. That didn’t matter now, however. Arathorn is their king and he will not condone such a matter.

 

As he started to calm down, he addressed Gandalf, “And when exactly were they planning to execute their plan?”

 

“At the first light of the morrow, my lord,” answered the wizard. “When I traveled to Ithilien, I happened to be present at a certain gathering you soldiers were holding. They said that they shall not pull back unless you satisfy their demands. If utter resistance be their answer, then they will strike, and strike hard.”

 

“What do you suggest I do, wise councilor?”

 

Gandalf looked up at the king. After making it look as though he was thinking about it, he answered.  “I suggest you meet their demands, my lord.”

 

“What do you suppose that would make me?!” Arathorn barked out. “If I am willing to consent to every miserable provocation of my soldiers, how would that make me look in front of my subjects? My halls will then be filled with every unhappy villager, each with demands. How dare they even demand something of me, their king?”

 

Gandalf now moved forward in protest. “As their king it is your job to satisfy the wills of your people. Without your people there’s nothing you rule.” How stubborn and ignorant this king was. He only hoped it wasn’t too late for the son.

 

“I rule Gondor!” yelled Arathorn. The echo of his voice spread throughout all of Minas Tirith.

 

After a few silent moments, sat back down on his throne and put his head on his hand to cover his eyes. With his other hand he signaled the wizard to leave. With a humph, Gandalf gathered his gray robes and turned around angrily, making his way towards the exiting doors. As he walked out, he was eagerly met by the young prince of Gondor.

 

“Mae govannen, melon inn,” Aragorn said to the wizard, putting his right hand across his chest and bowing his head slightly.

 

Gandalf, in turn, did the same gesture. “Well met, indeed, my boy,” he responded, placing a large, wrinkled hand on Aragorn’s shoulder.

 

/I heard my father’s yelling. What in Middle Earth did you tell him that angered him so?/

 

Gandalf sighed and walked down the corridor leading away from the throne room. Aragorn followed. /I told him only of what his own malice would lead to./

 

Gandalf stopped in his stride, unexpectedly, and Aragorn almost crashed into him. Turning to face Aragorn, the wizard’s face grew serious and he switched back to the Common Tongue. “The times are growing dark, my lad. The throne of Gondor may be yours sooner than you think.”

 

Aragorn looked up at the elder aged man and locked eyes with him. An aura of silence fell between them. Abruptly, Gandalf’s expression changed as he broke into a grin.

 

“Tell me, Aragorn, how have your fared since our last meeting,” he said, once again walking forward with Aragorn at his side.

 

“Not much to tell, old friend,” answered the man. “Gondor has been peaceful since your last visit.”

 

Gandalf laughed. “Oh yes. I did cause quite a racket then, did I not?”

 

“Indeed my friend. And yet I miss it. Your presents always seems to bring joy with it and laughter to the kingdom that has been absent for quite awhile.”

 

“That I am glad to hear. Yet now I do not see your eyes in happiness.”

 

Aragorn forced a smile to hide his feelings from the wizard.

 

“Oh no,” continued Gandalf. “I’ve known you for way to long to be fooled by your masked expressions. Come, speak.”

 

For a moment Aragorn hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Gandalf of the past few weeks: of the encounter with the elf. However, if there was anything he had learned from the wizard it was that to hide anything away from him would prove futile in the end, as the wizard had a way of knowing things. And so, he pushed out any doubts and spoke.

 

“An elf was brought here,” he started.

 

This had sparked the old man’s interest. Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow, looking at Aragorn “An elf?”

 

“Aye. First one I’ve seen and perhaps the last. You have taught me much about their kind and your stories have never ceased to fascinate me. But to see an elf before my very eyes was a startle on my behalf. I sparred with him as well. He proved to be quite a fighter. A worthy opponent, I dare say. ”

 

“So I can imagine. Elves do, indeed, possess a great skill in battle, but being caught so off guard by your father and being in much smaller numbers they could not withstand the fate that came to them. Arathorn had the great forces of Men on his side, including those of Hard who shared the same mercilessness as your father. I suppose you’ll never have an experience like that again. So what gruesome death befell this elf you speak of?”

 

“On the contrary, he remains alive.”

 

“Alive? That is quite a surprise now.” Gandalf had stopped once again. They now reached the great court yard and stood atop the stairs that led down to the fountain.

 

“I asked my father for his life and he gave it to me. I don’t know why I didn’t want to see him killed, but for whatever reason it was I was glad of it. He answered the questioned I have had for many years now, questions my father had avoided. Though my father denied the truth of the elf’s answers, I disregarded it. The elf’s answers were much too well replied for them to be false. He spoke of my mother and of the murder of his parents. I found out the elf is a prince of Mirkwood, a status no less than myself.”

 

Suddenly Gandalf’s eyes widened in horror. “Legolas?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

 

Aragorn cocked his head a bit in surprise. “You know him?”

 

Ignoring the man’s question, Gandalf grabbed him by the shoulders and asked, “Where is he?”

 

“In the cells.”

 

“You’ve kept him in imprisonment?”

 

Aragorn was somewhat startled by the wizard’s abrupt reaction. “Indeed I have.”

 

Gandalf sighed, dropping his hands from Aragorn. “Did he not tell you he would die? Elves cannot survive in imprisonment. They need to be among the natural life and breath fresh air. The death that he shall now have is far worse than anything your father could’ve done to him. ”

 

This Aragorn did not expect. He then remembered the elf’s words: all you did was prolong my suffering. I will die anyway, without my freedom. He now knew what it meant and all of sudden he felt incredibly guilty.  From the very beginning, something drew him to the elf. First when he stopped his father from killing him, and then when he saw him after Arathorn beat him. Aragorn felt responsible for the elf’s suffering and wanted to end it.

 

Gandalf saw the Aragorn’s thoughts, as they played out on his face.  “You must get him out of here. And quickly.”

 

Aragorn nodded. He knew just how to do. As a child he explored the palace often, and found many different routes out. Ones that perhaps even his father did not know of. Gandalf turned, making a motion to leave.

 

“Where are you going?” asked the man.

 

“There are things I must do. But I promise you, this parting will be far shorter than our last.”

 

After Gandalf’s departure, Aragorn went to the stables. Orlenir, the stable boy in his fourteenth summer, greeted him.

 

“What can I do for you my lord?”

 

Walking pass the boy, Aragorn eyed the wall of a certain stall. Turning back towards Orlenir, he pointed at the horse standing in the stall he was just looking at. “I want you to have this horse saddled and ready for me by the time I come back here. Make haste, for I shall be back soon.”

 

“Right away, my lord,” said Orlenir. Aragorn patted his shoulder as he ran by him. He then grabbed a cloak hanging on the gate on the stable and made his way to the dungeons, thinking over in his mind the best way out. He only hoped it was not too late.

 

Aragorn reached the stairs of the prisons, and took a torch off of the wall. He walked down, looking to his right for the cell of the elf. When he finally reached it, a guard came to stand before him.

 

“Open this cell,” Aragorn commanded the guard.

 

“Is there an intended purpose, my lord?”

 

“Do you dare question me?!” Aragorn asked angrily. “Now open this cell.”

 

The guard stepped to the side. “Forgive me, sire.” With this he took out the keys and opened the door.

 

Aragorn walked inside and raised the torch. On the stone floor he saw the unconscious form of the elf. He was deathly pale and a pool of blood was beneath him. Aragorn placed the torch in a holder on the wall and ran up to the body on the ground. He turned Legolas over and placed two fingers on his neck. He breathed out a sign of relief  as he found what he was looking for. The pulse was there, though it was faint.

 

Pulling out a flask of water that hung on his belt, he uncorked it and poured the cool contents in Legolas’ mouth. A violent cough escaped the elf, as he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and rested on Aragorn. Aragorn tried again to give him water, and this time Legolas helped him by raising his head up slightly.

 

Placing the flask back on the ground, Aragorn said in the Grey Tongue, /I have to get you out of here./

 

Not waiting for Legolas to reply, Aragorn placed the cloak over him and helped him to his feet, careful of the wound that still bled freely. He supported him by wrapping a hand around Legolas’ waist and leading him out of the cell. After a while, Legolas fully regained his senses and more or else was able to walk on his own, though still very weak. Aragorn led them through many narrow corridors until he finally came to a small door in the wall. Opening it, he went in first and motioned for Legolas to follow him. But Legolas grabbed his arm, turning Aragorn to face him. “Hannon lle,” he said. Locking eyes with him for moment, Aragorn nodded and then they went through the passage.

 

 

Nausea and weariness came over Legolas as they passed through the dark and narrow passage. Fog clouded his vision and he felt it was a matter of seconds before darkness would claim him. But Aragorn pressed him forward, not slowing down in his stride, knowing that the sooner they’d escape the better. He couldn’t risk his father catching them. Ages seemed to pass before Aragorn and Legolas finally reached the end of the tunnel. Aragorn pushed aside a large board of wood and pulled Legolas through by the arm. The sudden exposure to light hurt the elf’s eyes and he brought his hands up to cover them.

 

“Orlenir!” called Aragorn to the young stable boy.

 

Orlenir walked up to the man leading the horse he requested. He was quite surprised upon seeing his lord come out of the stable wall, but it was not his place to question.

 

Aragorn gave the boy a gold coin and made a signal for Legolas to come to the horse and mount. The elf prince did as he was bidden, though with some difficulty. Once Aragorn was certain that Legolas was secure upon the mare’s back, he mounted up behind the elf and took the reins.

 

“I am capable of riding on my own,” Legolas protested.

 

“It will be much quicker with just one horse,” Aragorn assured him. Then turning to the boy he said, “You never saw us.”

 

The boy nodded in understanding and with that, Aragorn rode out of Minas Tirith. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he did know that he needed to get as far away from Gondor as possible. Just for the sake of having a destination, Aragorn directed the mare north towards the mountains. He would have to ride hard, but thankfully this was a young and strong horse.

 

Aragorn felt a weight on his chest and looked down, only to see that the elf had passed out. The man sighed, knowing that even though he got Legolas out, the elf spent too much time in captivity and might not have a chance of living through.

 

They rode on for three days without rest- with Legolas passing in and out of consienceness. Nightfall had come and Aragorn realized that they needed a brief respite: him, the horse, but mostly Legolas. The elf’s wounds were still not fully healed and they weakened him greatly.

 

Aragorn stopped at a spot that seemed tranquil enough, by the river Anduin. His mare he set loose to get a drink, and Legolas he carefully lifted and lowered onto the cool earth by the roots of a tree. After refilling his water flask, Aragorn returned to Legolas’ side just as the elf began to regain his senses.

 

/Where are we?/ he asked in the Grey Tongue, sitting up and leaning on the tree trunk behind him.

“Away from Gondor,” answered Aragorn, uncorking the flask and offering it to Legolas, who gratefully accepted it.

 

In the meantime, Aragorn worked on washing and bandaging the elf’s wounds. It was to his relief that they did not get much worse. However, what worried Aragorn was that too much blood had been lost. This weakened the elf terribly.

 

Finishing with Legolas’ wounds, Aragorn was just about to turn away to start a fire, when Legolas grabbed his arm.

 

“Why are you going into exile for me?” he questioned.

 

After a few moments of pondering over the question, Aragorn said, “‘Tis not just for you. It is time for justice to triumph, Legolas. My father has gone too far.”

 

Aragorn noticed that Legolas’ eyes were fixed on him and he asked what was wrong.

 

“It’s nothing,” said Legolas, “just that you called me by my name

 

The man smiled. “And I shall not forget it. You helped me see the truth and for that I thank you greatly.”

 

With that they clasped the arm of one another and from that moment a great friendship was forged. Dawn came and once again they were off. Legolas did not bother asking where they were headed for he really did not care. He felt much better that morning and considered that a good sign.

 

Now that they were out of Gondor borders, Aragorn allowed the mare to go from a gallop to a gentle trot. They moved along the coasts of Anduin, going in the opposite direction of the current so to make sure that they were heading north.

 

A sudden uneasiness came over Legolas, though. The birds were quiet and the trees whispered a warning to him. He heard a rustle in the woods that was too loud to be coming from animals.

 

“What is it?” asked Aragorn, seeing the elf startled.

 

But Legolas did not answer him, for he himself did not yet know what it was that he heard. Aragorn stopped the horse and Legolas continued to listen. Suddenly, realizing what was advancing towards them, Legolas exclaimed, “Orcs!”

 

Aragorn eyes widened. He did not think that Orcs traveled in this area, but apparently he was wrong. Quickly he and Legolas dismounted and sent the mare out of harm’s way. Within a few minutes, they were surrounded by a pack of at least two dozen Orcs. Aragorn unsheathed his sword and gave Legolas two daggers. It was fatal for him to fight, but it was more fatal for him not to. The man could not take on the Orcs alone and Legolas was a fine warrior, no matter what condition he was in.

 

As soon as the Orcs attacked, the pair split up and each took on their own group. Aragorn’s blade sang and he fought furiously, taking out each foul beast that neared him. One swung at the man’s head, but he ducked out of the way and buried his sword in the creatures’ torso.

 

Meanwhile, Legolas was swinging his daggers, taking out his enemies and dodging their blows. He was moving gracefully fast, but the intense movements cause his head to spin. Nevertheless, he did everything his strength would allow to fight off the beasts. An roc came up behind him, but, as if seeing him from behind, Legolas plunged his dagger into its neck.

 

Only a handful of Orcs remained. For that Aragorn and Legolas were grateful as they both were beginning to tire, Legolas most of all. They signed in relief when the three or four Orcs that were still alive, retreated back into the woods. But their ease was erased when another thirty of the beast appeared out of the trees. Aragorn and Legolas’ eyes widened in horror. There was no way that they could take on this many. Bravely they stood their ground and clutched their weapons, but inside they were afraid.

 

All of a sudden, a sea of arrows flew threw the air, each of them finding a mark in the flesh of the Orcs. The man and elf turned to the direction from which they came and saw a group of cavalry archers come into view from the top bank of the river. It took but another volley of arrows before all the Orcs lay dead upon the ground.

 

Legolas thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He thought he saw that their saviors were elves. But as the archers rode closer to them, he saw that they were, indeed, elves. A disbelieving smile spread across his face when he saw his kin.

 

A sudden weariness came over him and he dropped to his knees. Aragorn was quick to act as he supported the elf’s shoulders. Legolas’ breathing was becoming heavy and his heart raced. He looked up and his eyes rested on a familiar face.

 

“Elladan,” he mumbled before collapsing to the ground.

 

Elladan got off of his horse and ran to Legolas’ side, pushing Aragorn out of the way.

 

“Elrohir, Gilthel, hurry!” yelled the dark-haired elf to his companions.

 

Right away, two elves- one baring the same exact features as Elladan- came over to them and helped carry Legolas to the horses. They seemed to not even notice Aragorn, and frankly, he did not want them to. He found his own horse by the rocks. The battle with the Orcs did not scare her off too far. Aragorn mounted and cantered over to the group of elves who were too occupied with Legolas to care about the man. Legolas was placed in front of Elrohir, and Elladan- who seemed to be their captain- told them to head for Imladris.

Elrond raced down to the courtyard as he heard the sound of approaching hooves. He had long foreseen the fate of Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, and after Gandalf’s arrival he sent his sons out to meet Legolas and Aragorn. Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn and the rest of the elves brought their horses to a quick halt once they saw the approach of the Elven Lord.

 

“Hurry! Bring him inside,” exclaimed Elrond, placing his eyes on the unconscious elf sitting in front of Elrohir.

 

With a nod, Elrohir dismounted his horse and helped Legolas down, with the aid of his twin brother. Quickly, they carried the prince inside taking him to one of the healing rooms. Aragorn looked around, marveling at the beauty of Rivendell. Gandalf has often told him stories of this place, even though it was against his father’s will. But never did he imagine that it was this radiant. He then followed Elrond and his sons.

 

As they entered the healing room, Legolas was placed on a bed by the window. The rays of the sun fell on his gentle face, but for once Aragorn saw how pale and lifeless it was. Seeing how everyone was too occupied to notice him, he took it his advantage by coming closer to the bed.

 

“Is going to live?” he asked rarely foolishly, but not knowing what else to say.

 

It was then that Elrond looked up at him and stood to block his path.

 

“I ask you to leave, Aragorn son of Arathorn,” he said sharply. “You do not belong here.”

 

Aragorn was not surprised at this sudden coldness from the elf lord and took a few steps back. But as soon as Elrond turned his attention back to Legolas, Aragorn said,

 

“I can help.”

 

 

“You did nothing but make it worse for him. Please leave.”

 

“I’m telling you, I can help him! I know of his wounds.”

 

Elrond was starting to get furious. “You know nothing. Any mortal wound I can heal. But it is he’s spirit that is fading and passing beyond my reach. He has been kept in imprisonment for a lot longer than any elf can endure. It is a miracle he has held for this long and has not left for the Hall of Mandos. But now I do not know what to do.”

 

“Are you proposing that it’s my fault?”

 

The elf Lord grunted and walked closer to Aragorn until he was just a few inches away from the man.

“Yes! It’s your fault. Had you actually been wise enough to see beyond your father’s lies, perhaps Legolas would be alive.”

 

“He is not dead yet.”

 

Elrond turned away from the man. “It’s only a matter of time.”

 

Aragorn sighed. He looked at Legolas once more. Even in his state the elf seemed strong and proud. Too proud to give in to the darkness. Suddenly, Aragorn walked pass Elrond and knelt by Legolas, placing one hand on his brow as he held the elf’s hand with the other. Elrond tried to get the man away, but Aragorn objected.

 

“Please. Trust me. You have nothing to lose.” With that he turned back to Legolas and closed his eyes.

Elrond made another move to protest, but a grunt voice from the doorway stopped him. “Let him do what he must, my lord Elrond. Trust him.”

 

Averting towards the voice, Elrond spoke to the person behind him, “I don’t know if I can, Mithrandir.”

But nevertheless, he stood aside and let Aragorn do what he started. All Aragorn’s concentration was bent on Legolas. Through their link he tried to bring the prince’s soul back into the lifeless body by transferring some of his own energy.

 

/Legolas, I call you back to the light. Listen to my voice. Open your eyes./

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After what seemed like decades, Legolas stirred, coming back from his deep sleep. He felt as though he had just come back from the Dark Tower of Mordor after being in the clutched of a hundred Orcs. Why does this feel so familiar, thought Legolas to himself, almost laughing at the déjà vu position he was in. But all sudden he remembered everything. Him and Aragorn escaping Minas Tirith…Orcs…the elves. Valar, the Elves! Elves from Rivendell! Were they real or had he dreamed them? He opened his eyes and sat up, immediately regretting doing so. He felt strong hands grab him by the shoulders and press him back down slowly.

 

“Easy now,” said a gentle voice.

 

Legolas recognized that voice but couldn’t believe it. “Lord Elrond?!”

 

“Yes, Legolas, it is I.”

 

It was then that Legolas’ eyes came into focus and fell upon the Lord of Imladris. “How is this possible?” asked the prince.

 

Elrond laughed slightly. “The magic of the elves was able to protect Rivendell from the wrath of Arathorn. You are not the only elf left, as you might of thought. There are also some who dwell in the mountains and now they wish to return to their home, be it Lothlorien or Mirkwood.”

 

Joy filled Legolas’ eyes. “Thank you, my lord,” he said graciously.

 

“Oh, it’s not me you should thank.” Confused, Legolas turned his head until his eyes rested on Aragorn, who was sitting by the window, smiling gently at him. Legolas locked eyes with him and nodded a little in gratitude.

 

“He surprised us all,” continued Elrond. “He has a healing touch that even I cannot compare to.”

 

“The hands of a king are the hands of a healer,” mumbled Legolas softly.

 

Days passed and Legolas was slowly returning to his normal state, thanks to both Aragorn and the healing ability of elves. Most of his time was occupied with either long conversations with Aragorn or extended strolls through Imladris. He had often come here as a child and he would run through the woods and halls of Rivendell, disturbing the piece of the elves that resided there. They would admonish him for his impertinence, but he would pay them no heed. Legolas has been quite a mischievous elfling when his father wasn’t around. Not a quality fitting for prince of Mirkwood.

 

A soft breeze caressed Legolas’ face as walked out into the gardens. He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the sweet scent of perennials and peonies, and listened to the songs of the trees. How he missed the days when he could be at one with nature; days when he could breathe fresh air with a clear mind.

“Are you always this withdrawn from the world?” asked a voice behind him.

 

Legolas neither opened his eyes nor turned around. He merely answered, “You’re wrong, my friend. I have never been closer to the world as I am now.

 

Aragorn came to stand by his side. He, too, was awed by peace and tranquility of Rivendell, but did not possess Legolas’ Elven skills to communicate with the earth. After a few moments of silence he spoke again. “I have received word from my servant at Minas Tirith about my father.”

 

The smile faded from Legolas’ face and he opened his eyes to look at Aragorn. “What did you learn?” he asked quite seriously.

 

The man sighed. “He is dead.”

 

Legolas bit his lip and Aragorn did not miss the look of sympathy in his eyes. As Legolas was about to give his condolences, Aragorn raised his hand in a calming gesture, which showed that no words were necessary.

 

“ ‘Tis alright, my friend,” Aragorn told him. “It is how it was meant to be.”

 

“But Aragorn, he was your father.”

 

“Aye. And I love him. I always will, no matter what was between us. But I do not regret his death. It is time

that Gondor be free of his power. Too long has She suffered at his will.”

 

Legolas sadly nodded, understanding Aragorn’s pain. Oh what he would not give up to be with his father for a least one more day.

 

As if reading Legolas’ thoughts, Aragorn placed his hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Ironic how strangely akin we came to be.”

 

“Indeed,” answered Legolas. “How did it happen?”

 

Aragorn broke his eye contact with Legolas and he looked to the waterfalls in the mountains. “There was a mutiny lead by my father’s ‘loyal’ soldiers. They demanded that my father gives them the gold and freedom that was suppose to be theirs years ago. But being as stubborn as he is, my father refused. That is when they gathered they full force and threw my father in the dungeon, continuing for days to press the matter. Realizing that he no longer had power, Arathorn drank a poison that he kept inside his ring.”

 

“Now you can claim the throne that is rightfully yours.”

 

Aragorn locked eyes with Legolas. “Nay. I will not go back to Gondor. There I was only a prisoner.

 

“Where will you go then?”

 

“I’m sure Middle-earth has a place for me in the wilds.”

 

“But you shall be no more than a wanderer, a vagrant.”

 

Aragorn laughed slightly, clasping his friend’s shoulder. “Not all those who wander are lost, mellon nin. I have often heard of Dunadain rangers that dwell in the north. They are the descendents of the Numenorian race, which makes them my kin. I feel that they shall welcome me much more kindly then the people of Gondor.”

 

Legolas nodded. He felt that soon the two of them would part and that fact saddened him. They had grown to be fast friends, much to the curiosity of Lord Elrond and other elves of Rivendell. But their separation was inevitable, as both of them had their own separate destinies to follow. Aragorn needed to spend time alone in the wild and Legolas needed to gather together the elves in the mountains and repair the damage that has been done to the Elven kingdoms. Aragorn had saved Legolas’ life more than once, and it said that no such deed goes without being repaid. Perhaps, Legolas hoped, Fate would bring him and Aragorn together in a united destiny.

 

-

 

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THE END