Sell Your Soul to the Devil

"W-What?" Aragorn stuttered.

His head was spinning. This can't be happening, he thought. This is some sort of sick joke, it has to be! Any minute now, Legolas is going to laugh like he always does, and then he'll come back over here and help us defeat Sauron. Legolas can't be working for him, he can't!

But Legolas did not laugh. "This isn't a joke, Aragorn. Do you want me to prove it?"

Without waiting for a response, the elf brought his knives down onto Aragorn. He raised Anduril to block the constant aggressive moves, moves that he now realised he knew all too well. He recognised the bloodlust in his friend's eyes, but he had never thought that the expression Legolas now bore on his face would ever be turned upon him. He knew that Legolas was going for the kill, and that broke his heart. One of the knives sliced through his tricep, and a burning pain spread though his arm. He realised that the knives he bore were the same knives that he had used with the Fellowship, the same knives that had been used to save Aragorn's life more times than either cared to admit, he had been a fool not to see it before...

Aragorn threw him away. "Legolas, it's me!" he pleaded. "It's Aragorn!"

"You think I don't know that?" Legolas hissed. "I haven't forgotten who you are. It's not that I don't recognise you."

Legolas grabbed him. Aragorn's unwillingness to hurt one of his oldest friends showed itself as Legolas spun him around quickly so that Aragorn's back was to Legolas' chest. The elf grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked it down, exposing Aragorn's throat, to which the elf pressed his knife to. Aragorn let out an almost imperceptible sob.

Legolas threw back his head and laughed. It was the same beautiful sound that Aragorn had heard a thousand times before, only this time it sent shivers down his spine, breaking his heart. "Are you crying?" he laughed derisively. His voice carried back to Minas Tirith and to the frontlines of Mordor's forces.

"Please..." Aragorn whispered.

"What was that?" Legolas asked. "I didn't quite catch it. Why don't you speak up so that we can all hear you."

Aragorn remained silent, tears forming in his eyes.

"I said SPEAK UP!" the elf screamed, yanking Aragorn's hair back sharply, making almost everyone jump. Legolas threw Aragorn onto the ground, where he lay sprawled. Legolas kicked the dirt into Aragorn's eyes, before grabbing his neck and pressing his knife to it again.

"Why?" Aragorn whispered. "Why did you do this?"

Legolas removed his hand from the man's throat, placing it against the tip of his knife. "What greater motive is there to do something," Legolas replied softly, so that only Aragorn could hear, "than to protect the ones you count as dear as brothers?"

At this, Aragorn suddenly lost what little self control he had. He brought one knee so that it collided painfully with Legolas' chest. He leapt to his feet, kicked his knives out of his reach, and pressed the tip of Anduril to Legolas' throat.

"Well go on then," Legolas said, smiling. "Kill me. You've already condemned me to death, so why not just carry out the sentence?"

Aragorn paused, the sword balanced precariously over his best friend's neck.

"The fight is over," he snarled, removing the tip and sheathing his sword, before walking away.

Legolas stared after him incredulously, before getting to his feet and chasing after him.

"You coward!" he yelled. "The fight only ends when one of us is killed! We are both still alive and-"

Aragorn spun round and grabbed the elf by his neck. "I said: the fight is over."

Aragorn threw him away, and Legolas strode with as much dignity as he could muster back to his horse, while Aragorn walked straight past his own, not even acknowledging the others' existences. As Legolas mounted his horse, he suddenly turned to Merry and Pippin.

"Oh, you little Halflings, you sit there so arrogantly!" he screamed. His face looked deranged. "Only now do you see the price that your freedom was bought for! This is all your fault!"

Aragorn remained silent as he headed back to the Citadel. He sat in utter silence while the others discussed the evening's events.

"I'm sorry, but who was that elf?" asked Théoden. He and Éomer had been left in the dark, confused at the shock, confusion and outrage shared by the Fellowship.

"That elf was a member of our company," explained Merry, shell-shocked. "He was captured with me and Pippin, and he must have agreed to work for Sauron in exchange for our freedom."

Boromir suddenly swept his hand over a table with a cry, knocking everything off. "I can't believe it!" he screamed. "He killed Faramir?" Not content with the piles of books on the floor, he decided to knock over the table as well.

"Legolas' treachery is a grave blow," Gandalf said, and he was the only one who had remained calm. "Indeed I fear that the quest is in jeopardy. But still, regardless of this setback, we have a war to fight. And we cannot let this get in our way."

"But what can we do?" Gimli snarled. "We are outnumbered, whatever hope there was for Frodo and Sam is gone, and soon the army will no doubt double in size and strength. We will not win this war."

"We could send word to Elrond-"

"Why are you so quick to trust the elves?" snarled Boromir. He had become deeply uncomfortable around them ever since his stay at Lothlórien, and the evening's events had only intensified this feeling. "Hasn't this taught you anything? The elves cannot help us! It was their idea to send the Ring into Mordor, which is now doomed to fail! The Ring should have been kept safe, not handed back to the enemy on a plate! This whole thing was folly! And now we must pay the price for the elves' stupidity!"

Aragorn glared at him, willing that Boromir would fall silent. "You do not know what you are saying, Boromir. You do not have the power to wield it, and nor does anyone else. We only had the choice to destroy the Ring, and the only way we could do that is to send it into Mordor."

Aragorn got up and left the room without another word. Finally alone, he let down the facade that he had tried so hard to build. He locked himself in a bathroom, and leant over the basin. He thought about his lifelong friendship with Legolas, about their first meeting, when he was only a small child, and then about their last meeting. The thought made him feel sick, and he threw up into the basin. Tears fell down his face, and his knees gave way. He collapsed onto the floor, where he lay, a sobbing wreck of the man he could have been.