A/N: The first LOTR fic I've posted here, so please be nice - I know this is pretty short but if I get a good response for it, more will follow soon. If you haven't already gathered, this is going to be a pretty torturous story for Aragorn, so if you don't like that kind of stuff, that's fine. I do, though... probably have an unhealthy addiction to it, actually...

Summary:

"Aragorn opened his eyes wearily to the cruel laughter of the Orcs, and to the ever-familiar throbbing pain throughout his body, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was entirely and unquestionably alone."/ When Legolas loses his temper with the young Ranger, the consequences are disastrous and could change the fate of all Middle Earth… Will it be Aragorn who pays the price?

In the dream, Aragorn saw Legolas.

It was with that strange, sharp clarity that told him this was not just a dream, but was actually happening or would happen somewhere, at some time.

Legolas rode forwards towards the house – Imladris, Aragorn realised with a jolt. The first streaks of dawn were just painting the sky above the valley. It had been so long since he saw his home that he'd almost not recognised it.

The thought was hardly comforting.

As the elf dismounted and ran lithely up the steps, Lord Elrond came into view, his face strangely anxious. That alone made Aragorn worried – his father-in-all-but-blood rarely showed his emotions outwardly.

Reaching the top of the steps, Legolas hurried to meet Elrond. Though he couldn't hear what they were saying, and he seemed to be watching from afar, the distress on Legolas' face was plain. At the other elf's words, Elrond bowed his head, eyes full of despair quickly masked.

But Aragorn knew that if he had seen the expression on Elrond's face, Legolas would have done too. The two elves stood silently for a long while; Legolas' shoulders sagging as though he held the weight of the world upon them, Elrond keeping his head down to hide the emotion betrayed on his face.

Aragorn wondered what could possibly have happened to make them like this.

Suddenly, another elf ran out of the house. Long, wavy hair; pale, clear skin; the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Arwen. Aragorn's heart sang.

She was speaking quickly, gesturing with her hands, obviously begging her father and Legolas for something. At last, Legolas shook his head and spoke. Even from such a distance away, it was easy to understand his words. I'm sorry.

Arwen slapped him across the face.

This was so unexpected, so emotional, so utterly not Arwen, that Aragorn felt his body tense up, despite being asleep.

The most shocking thing was that Legolas did not react. The dejection and – was that guilt? – on his face was clear to see.

Elrond's head snapped up at the sound and anger flashed across his proud features. Aragorn remembered hazily that elves were generally a strictly peace-loving race between themselves, although he couldn't have said how he knew. Without another word, Arwen stormed away. Wearily, it seemed, Elrond watched her go, laid a gentle had on Legolas' shoulder and walked into the house after his daughter.

Legolas was left standing alone on the steps as the first light of the sun touched him. Desperately, Aragorn tried to call out to his friend, but he could feel himself waking. He wanted so badly to hold onto the dream.

Aragorn opened his eyes and groaned as something hard slammed into his side. He didn't have the strength to fight back. The pain assaulted him again, wave upon wave of it, blocking everything else out. When it became apparent that it was not going to fade, the Ranger gritted his teeth and focused on the cold, unfriendly world around him. Cruel laughter from the Orcs reached his ears. The comfort of the dream was long gone. No one was going to help him out of this one - not after everything he'd done, not after all the things they'd said.

He was alone.

A/N: Review?