Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, just the situation, yadda-yadda, etcetera.

In this story, I wanted to just get out some anger I had by writing. After I was done, I thought that it was a pretty good story. R&R.

Estranged

By Lothlórien (a.k.a. Andromeda)

Darkness fell heavily on the plain of Gondor. A moss-green cloaked figure, leaning all of his weight on a walking staff, walked away from the towering city of Minas Tirith, sadness like a cloud around him.

He paused and took a single look back at the place that he had dared to call the home of a great friend. He knew that only anger and hate live there now.

"Good-bye, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," His bruised elven lips moved in a quiet litany of sorrow, "I would have followed you to the edges of the world and beyond. I wish that I could prove that lies have destroyed our friendship."

He turned back to the north, going to a place where his heart did not rest.

Aragorn paced in his room, a mixture of anger and confusion abetting his emotional fury. He had seen it with his own eyes, yet why could he not believe it? His own friend, a trusted companion since the War of the Ring, had betrayed him.

He had seen him, kneeling over Arwen, holding her bloodied hand in his. He had hurt her…he had seen him…

It was just that morning when he had heard a scream. He flung the door open and saw Arwen, coughing and gasping for air, lying on the floor, a wound in her side bleeding fiercely.

Legolas had been kneeling by her, her hand in his gentle grip and his other hand pressed hard against her side.

The way it had seemed…he had been blinded by anger…he had lashed out…

His fist had connected with Legolas' jaw, snapping the elf's head backwards. The elf was so stunned that he hadn't even struck back. His lip began to bleed as Aragorn swung again.

The elf dodged this one, but was still not responding as Aragorn thought an attacker would. Nevertheless, Aragorn had beaten him and was standing over him in anger when Arwen came to consciousness.

"I never want to see your accursed face in Gondor again. Do you hear me? Never!" He had sworn then and there to kill the elf the next time he saw him. Legolas stood, blood dripping from his lip. His eyes were so sad…

Now Aragorn was cursing himself. How could he have been so blind? There was no reason for Legolas to hurt Arwen. So why had he responded so impulsively to the sight of his wife lying on the floor?

Arwen would heal, yet she spoke of nothing that had happened. Aragorn would have to wait to find out what actually happened.

Until then, he could take no chances. If Legolas had truly turned against him…

"Guards!" He cried, pulling open the door, "Get me a courier! I want to send out a bounty!"

Legolas dared not stop walking. His pain was all his own now. No one believed him, not even Aragorn when he tried to kill him. He had tried to explain…

The memories of early that morning flashed by through his mind and behind his eyes.

"Legolas, help me…" Arwen laid bleeding on the floor, her voice a mere whisper. He dove to her side, searching for her attacker, "He has gone…"

"Who did this?" Legolas demanded, pressing his hand to her side, attempting to staunch the blood. She did not answer. Her eyes seemed to look past him and she screamed.

Then Aragorn had burst in. He hadn't even expected his first attack.

"Aragorn, you fool," Legolas whispered to himself, "How could you have not seen that I was trying to help? Instead, you treat me as a criminal."

The sound of hoof beats resounded throughout the small glade through which he was passing. It was a courier, riding hard and fast. He pulled to a stop beside the elf.

"You there! Elf! Might you be the one called Legolas, son of Thranduil?" He pointed at him with a scroll.

"Why is it of any concern what my name is?" Legolas inquired, running his thumb underneath the shoulder strap of his quiver.

"There is a living bounty out for the elf named Legolas, so sworn to by Aragorn, king of Gondor!" The courier kicked his horse and took off again, riding ahead of the elf.

He will reach the villages before me, and rouse them to my presence, he thought, I must ride, but I have no horse…else I am dead tomorrow, no matter what the bounty says.

*   *   *   *   *

For many years Aragorn searched Middle-earth for Legolas. He knew that he would not sail through the Grey Havens without repairing his relationship with him.

Stories flew that he was dead, slain by bounty hunters that had no care for living bounties. Others told of a great dwarf battle in which he was slain, while even more told stories of orc battles, death of grief, and then of an elf who cried so much he turned to stone.

None of these rumors did Aragorn believe. Until one fateful day…

He rode silently through the forest, his escort not far behind. Suddenly, as the trees of Mirkwood moved past them, a cry went up from the rear of the escort.

"I've found something, my Lord!" A young soldier rode up to him as fast as he could, "I was searching through the forest, sir. There is a battleground in a clearing where much blood has been spilled!"

"We shall discover who the unfortunate victims were," Even as he said this, Aragorn wrestled with the turmoil he had been fighting for so many years.

How could I have struck a friend? His hand flew to his breastplate, even as they rode to the clearing that the young soldier had spoken of, Arwen told me that it was not he, but a black thief.

That thief had been dealt with, yet it left Aragorn with a painful hole in his spirit. Legolas had not been seen for almost seven years now. Even Thranduil had expressed painful interest to know where his son was.

Aragorn slipped down from his horse. Bodies of orcs laid scattered, their blood still liquid and warm.

"This battle has not long been over," He said, and then his ranger trained hears picked up the unmistakable sound of a fight, "And it is not over!"

He unsheathed his sword, the magnificent Andúril, and was followed by his escort into the trees. He slew an orc, and then turned to see what it was that the band had been attacking.

He could not see, for there were too many attackers, but he and his escort quickly dispatched them.

"Aragorn—" The painful whisper was heard by only him. As he bent over the beaten, bruised figure lying in the dirt, tears came to his eyes.

"Legolas, dear stars," Aragorn surveyed his estranged friend's injuries. Four arrows, three in his upper chest and shoulder, one in his leg, stood black and ominous against his tunic and over shirt.

Blood stained the ground around him, and Aragorn knew that the wounds he had suffered had been freshly cut. His head hung.

"I know what happened, Legolas," Aragorn bent over him, "I'm so sorry…"

Legolas shuddered. He looked at his alienated friend with a new light, one that bespoke of hope, "I thought that you would never believe me…"

"Oh, stars! I have known for seven years!" Aragorn knew that the others were watching and that two escorts ran back to get medical supplies and a horse, "Arwen told me, and I've been trying to find you."

"I've been every where, Aragorn—" Legolas cried out in pain when he tried to move his leg, "I wanted to see the White City again…"

"Hurry with the bandages!" Aragorn cried, "Legolas, we will take you to your father's house, there, you may yet be healed…"

Even as he spoke, he knew that such hopes were futile. They were almost a day's ride from the elven refuge in Mirkwood, and Legolas would not last that long. His elven friend was fading fast…

"Here, sir!"

Aragorn took a hold of one arrow's shaft. Elven blood made his grip slippery, but he dared not fail.

Upon removal of the four arrows, the King of Gondor feared that his friend was dead, but the slight breathing through the broken lips told him of Legolas' life, however fragile it was.

After he bandaged the wounds, he and a few others helped him lift Legolas onto his horse. Aragorn then sat behind him, holding his body up with his arms.

The elven prince looked so childlike and fragile, yet Aragorn knew that this elf had lives much, much longer than he and knew so very much more than he could ever hope to.

They rode hard, trying to get to the elven castle of Mirkwood realm. Aragorn refused to let the horses rest. They pressed on, further and deeper into the forest.

A great cry went up through the sentries who now ran beside them. One, riding an elven horse, passed them and made for the home of Thranduil.

Aragorn rode as close to the tree-house-like home and gently gave Legolas into the gentle arms of two elves. He then dismounted and took Legolas back, running towards the home of Thranduil.

"Lord Thranduil!" he cried. Thranduil and what could be called his council descended the stairs at great speed. The elf king called for his healers to take Legolas.

That was the last Aragorn saw of Legolas for a long time.

Word came to Aragorn of a rider who sped across the field in a great hurry. He stood at the balcony of the White Tower with Arwen by his side. She gazed at the rider until her elven sight made it clear to her.

"He has returned to us!" Aragorn followed her down the stairs and through the many halls until they came to the gate of the castle. The rider came up and dismounted.

"Legolas!"

The elf smiled, "Yes, I am alive. Your healing saved my life," He touched an invisible scar on his lip, "Even though I caused so much pain."

"It was I who was the fool, Legolas," The king and prince embraced, "I welcome you into my home once again, dear elf. Come, let us celebrate!"

"Would it be a problem if I invited another old friend to join us?" Legolas' eyes twinkled merrily as a heavy old pony trotted up to the gate as well.

"Legolas, just watching you ride tires me," Gimli dismounted awkwardly, "I will never get used to those confounded animals!"

"Gimli!" Aragorn smiled and embraced his old friend, "And Lord of the Glittering Caves!"

"Yes, and I do believe that the Three Hunters are together again, yes?" Gimli laughed heartily, his beard streaked with little gray. He clapped his hands together and took Arwen's hand, "And my lady Arwen, Queen of Gondor."

"It is good to see you in good health, Master Gimli," She smiled and her eyes twinkled like the stars at night.

"Come, let us eat, for hard riding all the way from Mirkwood! Or whence do you hail?" Aragorn led them towards the gate.

"We left from Rivendell, after visiting the elves there," Gimli rubbed his hands together, "Now, what do we eat?"

They all burst into contented laughter, with Legolas' clear voice and Aragorn's kind laughter mixing once again.