Where You Belong

By: Wren

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, it's all Tolkein's, I'm not getting any money whatsoever for this.

Feedback: yes please, anything but flames, constructive criticism most appreciated.

Where You Belong

"Why did we not wish for some of our own kinsmen to come?" said Gimli.

Legolas stood before the gate, and turned his bright eyes away north and east, and his fair face was troubled. "I do not think that any would come," he answered"They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own lands."

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

The stars twinkled in the velvety sky, and beneath them stood a lone figure wrapped in a grey cloak, his eyes turned to the north. Legolas Greenleaf, prince of the Woodland Realm, watched the north in thoughtfulness.

Many of those thoughts were ones of guilt.

He had spoken with Halbarad and some of the other rangers earlier, and had received from them news of battle and bloodshed on the borders of Lorien, Mirkwood, and the human city of Dale. This had only served to heighten his regret. He knew that it was important for him to be here, to support his friend Aragorn as he came into his destiny as a ruler of men, and to represent his people in this final battle for Middle Earth, but he had begun to rue his choice to join the fellowship. He had acted on impulse at the council, like a child hungry for adventure.

Lately he had been having nightmares, ever since the battle of Helm's Deep, of his father's halls being overrun by orcs and other foul creatures, of his people being murdered, and all of Mirkwood, the only home he had ever known, going up in flames.

His people were at war, and there was no excuse for him not to be there.

Legolas was left alone to his quiet and bitter thoughts, taking at least the smallest comfort in the cool glow of the stars, ever watching the north.

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

Aragorn son of Arathorn opened his eyes, no longer trying to find rest. He rose to his feet silently, and took a deep breath of the sharp evening air. The gentle breeze brushed through his hair, sending any drowsiness from him, making him feel completely awake.

Restlessly, he walked out of the small hollow in which their company had bivouacked, and noticed a solitary shadow silhouetted against the starry sky. He recognized the figure as Legolas immediately, but the uncharacteristic stoop of the elf's shoulders told him that something was wrong with his friend.

He went over to Legolas, booted feet padding silently on the dewy ground. He knew of his friend's heightened senses, and expected Legolas to be aware of his presence, so he was a bit surprised when Legolas jumped as Aragorn placed a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder.

Legolas looked over his shoulder for a split second, and when he recognized the man he turned his eyes to the north again.

"What's wrong mellonin?" Aragorn asked, a concerned expression gracing his travel-worn face.

Legolas tensed, and Aragorn removed his hand, now even more worried about his old friend. He didn't know what was making the elf so upset.

"You talked to Halbarad, did you not, and you heard about what was happening up north?" Legolas whispered, almost bitterly.

"Yes," responded Aragorn quietly, and Legolas stiffened even more, looking as tense as a bowstring. "But we knew that the war would affect every land in Middle Earth during these times."

Legolas knew this, but he had never really expected war to come to his people. Sure there had often been skirmishes on their borders, but the wood elves had not been to real war for more than a thousand years. They were a peaceful people, only resorting to fighting when necessary. He remained silent for a moment, not being able to think of anything to say.

"They are my people Aragorn, and I am supposed to be there when they need me," he whispered, his voice sounding cold and monotone, as if the words had been rehearsed over and over. Legolas had heard his father say things similar to that many times. Thranduil was a king intensely devoted to his people, a true leader.

Realization dawned on the ranger's face as it became clear why Legolas had momentarily lost his composure. He was guilty about not being where he felt he was needed most.

"Legolas," he murmured, "We need you here, people are more thankful of your presence then you know."

The elf did not respond, still convinced that his people needed him more then the Grey Company did.

"Legolas, trust me, I heard you and Gimli talking after Helm's Deep, 42 is a good count, you are more important to us then you seem to think. " He said, trying to unearth happy memories in his friends mind.

"Forty-three", Legolas mumbled.

"What?", inquired the man, suddenly curious.

"It was twitching.", The elf muttered quietly, the shadow of a smile suddenly breaking on his fair face.

Aragorn shook his head. He wasn't even going to ask about that.

He turned to walk back to the camp, leaving Legolas once more to his thoughts.

The elf thought over what Aragorn had said. He knew it was true, but that did not excuse him. With a sigh he thought to himself that there was nothing he could do about it now. Perhaps he had made a mistake, but at least it was of some importance to represent the people of the Great Wood here. Either way he now had little choice in the matter, and it would do no good to dwell on it now.

With his mind at a temporary truce he went back to the place where the Grey Company had bivouacked. This was not a matter that he could deal with now, it would have to wait, war was no time for idle thought. He was needed, like his friend had said.