Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings along with its respective characters and plot belong to the wonderful JRR Tolkien. The motion picture trilogy belongs to New Line Cinema. In short, I own nothing. I'm merely borrowing these characters for a time.
Warnings: Death, spoilers for the second movie (which is where I'm drawing this from, NOT the book), slight alteration of the movie, tons of angst/depression, slight Aragorn/Legolas slash (yaoi).
Author's Notes: I know there's lots of grief stories and such, but I had to write this to get it off my mind. Quite frankly, I was surprised when Legolas shot that Orc and it didn't fall. More surprised was I when it actually made the wall explode. Shouldn't Legolas feel some grief at that? I think he should, and I haven't read one story that has him grieving over the missed shots. So I decided to write one of my own. Now, I don't know much about LOTR, and this was my first LOTR fanfic, so please be kind in your criticism. I would really appreciate feedback so that I know what to fix in the future should I write another LOTR fanfic. This didn't turn out quite like I planned, but I hope you all enjoy.
© Seeress, 2003.
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Eternal Guilt
By Seeress
"Legolas!" The desperate shout came from somewhere below the wall, and Legolas looked wildly about him to locate the source of the sound. His eyes finding Aragorn, they locked gazes before he was called to again.
"Legolas, shoot the Orc down!"
He opened his mouth to protest at such a request. The Orc? Which Orc? There were easily a thousand or so Orcs fighting against the Humans and Elves; and even Dwarf, his mind admitted, but he would never say so to Gimli. But soon he understood, for he saw a large ball of flame making its way through the throng of dead and fighting warriors. His eyes widened in horror as realization dawned on him.
Quickly drawing an arrow from his quiver and fitting it expertly into his bow, the Prince of Mirkwood released the arrow and watched as it hit the Orc in the shoulder. A miss-hit, for although it periodically dazed the creature, a moment later it was up and running toward its destination once more. Legolas drew another arrow and fired again. This time, the Orc was struck in the midsection, but after shaking off the force of the arrow embedding itself into its flesh, it made for the wall once more and dove right into the base. Legolas was knocked over from the force of the explosion, and when he sat up and shook off his lack of coordination, he looked over with apprehension to the hundreds of Orcs and Uruk-hai swarming into Helm's Deep from where the wall had fallen, and the people who had died when the stone crumbled from beneath their feet. He was alerted by a loud grunting from behind him, and quickly thrust one of his trusty swords into the neck of a vile Uruk-hai that had its sword raised over his head. It fell with a thud onto the ground as Legolas pulled out his sword, its eyes rolling into its head as Legolas got up gracefully from the crouch he had been in before. His stomach churned as he watched more and more of Saruman's army entering Helm's Deep, slaughtering everything in their path.
If only he had stopped that Orc. If only he had pulled one more arrow, aimed more accurately. They would've had the safeguard that Helm's Deep offered, and could fend off the forces climbing up the ladders and shooting arrows from beneath them. If only…
It's my fault, Legolas thought with dismay. It's all my fault.
The battle for Helm's Deep was finally over, with the forces of Rohan lasting the night. Relief came from King Theoden's nephew, Eomer, and his forces of those loyal to Rohan, led by Gandalf the White. The soldiers had long since retired, going to their loved ones, mourning for their dead, trying to piece together what they had left from the terrible assault. Many graves were made, and the bodies of the soldiers were buried. The carcasses of the Orcs and Uruk-hai were gathered in a pile far outside Helm's Deep, and set alight to burn. The sight of the willowy smoke in the sky made Legolas turn away from the scene he was observing from a high point of the fortress, and he retreated hastily into one of the unoccupied dark corridors to think. He had learned of Haldir's death not too long ago, and the grief that washed over him made him want to cry out in anguish. Many an Elven warrior had died, along with many noble men, and he had grieved for them all, the sorrow piercing his heart. But Haldir… Haldir was not meant to die. Haldir could not die. He knew that casualties were inevitable in war, but it never occurred to him that Haldir might actually die. Haldir was a skilled warrior, a protector of the golden woods of Lothlórien. How was it that such a fate had befallen one of his oldest friends, death by the hands of such a foul creature as an Uruk-hai? He briefly wondered if the Uruk-hai that killed Haldir had entered through the gap in which the exploding Orc had made in the wall. Immediately he pushed the thought out of his mind. So many had died already because of his incompetence. So many lost lives. He didn't want to have the burden of Haldir's death on his shoulders as well.
He knew Haldir had fought valiantly, dying a soldier's death by fighting for the lives of innocents and a larger cause of defeating Sauron. He knew that if Haldir were alive he would tell him not to reminisce in the past and blame himself, that he had been willing to die to preserve lives. Legolas knew this.
But it did not ease the pain.
He closed his eyes wearily, and for the first time since the Fellowship set out on their perilous Quest, Legolas let the tears fall. He was tired, terribly so, and now he wished with all his heart that this horrible nightmare would end. The Ring would be destroyed, Sauron would be defeated, and Middle-Earth would return to peace as it was before. And he… he would be able to finally return home, to the grand trees and palace of beauty that was his homeland. But now, it seemed that that would never be. The tears flowed undaunted down his fair cheek, but Legolas made no sound.
The sound of soft footfalls came to his vigilant Elven ears, muffled and silent, but still catching his attention. They were too heavy to be that of an Elf's, but too soft to be those of a Man or Dwarf. There was only one person who held this in-between sound in their step.
Aragorn.
The one person he wanted to talk to so badly yet didn't want in his presence either. Aragorn offered words of wisdom and companionable comfort, but Legolas found those to be sometimes unfulfilling in moments such as these. Hastily he wiped away his tears, not wanting to see the concern is Aragorn's stormy grey eyes, eyes that held for him not the love that he desired. To Aragorn, they would always be friends. Friends. Nothing more.
The footsteps came around the corner in which he hid, and sure enough the tall, broad-shouldered form of Isildur's heir came into view. His dark hair was matted and dirty, as were his clothes and face. But his caring eyes shone as clear as ever, and Legolas felt that his gaze penetrated his very soul.
"Do not blame yourself, mellon nin," Aragorn said softly as if reading his thoughts, his eyes never leaving Legolas's face. "Haldir would not wish it so."
Mellon… friend… as it would always be.
"How do you know what Haldir wishes!?" his question was angry and filled with sorrow, borne of a broken heart. "Haldir is no longer alive…" he whispered the last part as fresh tears came to his eyes once more. Aragorn had not flinched at his outburst, understanding his sorrow. Now, the human King reached out a calloused hand and cupped Legolas's porcelain cheek, brushing away a spilt tear with his thumb.
Legolas revelled in the touch, and instantly his anger ebbed away. He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, releasing it in a long sigh. He heard Aragorn shift slightly, and before he knew it his lips had been captured in the lips of the man that had captured his heart. His eyes fluttered open in shock, but he threw caution to the wind as he closed his eyes again and enjoyed this one moment that he would never get again. The kiss was tender and soft, and Aragorn's eyes smiled at him when they finally drew apart, although his face revealed nothing. Aragorn drew him in for an embrace, hugging him tightly and stroking his golden hair, and with a sigh released him. His hand was at Legolas's cheek again, and a sad smile played upon his lips as he leaned in and kissed Legolas on the forehead one last time, before turning and walking away.
Unconsciously, Legolas brushed his fingertips over his lips.
Oh, Estel, his mind sighed. It's my guilt. My eternal guilt.
END
Ok, revised this twice already in less than an hour. Thanks to Hellga for pointing out my fumble with the Elvish words.