The hall of the Elven King was unusually quiet when Aragorn was led into it, one royal guard flanking either side of him. He had ridden hard from Minas Tirith, anxious to reach Legolas, in spite of his own exhaustion. The sight of the imposing trees had never filled his heart with gladness, but it did so this journey, pushing back a growing sense of doom that he could not explain. He knew that his entry into the wood would be marked by sentries, but he soon found himself surrounded by stony faced Wood Elves with drawn bows.

They had said little to him and had offered no explanation as to why he was being treated as an enemy and a prisoner, but he was too concerned with getting to Legolas as quickly as possible. As they entered the throne room, however, he jerked his arms free of his guards. When they grabbed his arms again he began to struggle, only to go still as he saw Legolas' father slumped on his throne, his head in his hands. Uneasiness shivered up Aragorn's spine, and he turned questioning eyes on his guards, who ignored him, before facing the Elf King once more.

When Thranduil looked up at last, Aragorn felt as if his skin were being stripped away under the furious regard of the Elven King. Never had the differences between father and son been so pronounced as now. There was no gentleness in Thranduil, no humor in the eyes and it was easy to see the leader he had been on the battlefield.

"So you have come," Thranduil growled.

"Your Majesty. Is Legolas here? I must speak with him."

"He will not see you, Elessar." Thranduil sneered the last word. He gripped the arms of his throne. "What kind of man are you? I have shown you hospitality, I agreed to guard that wretched Gollum for you, and this is how you repay me?"

Aragorn's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You were raised among Elves. You know our customs. How could you not see what you were doing?" Thranduil rose and walked toward Aragorn, his angry voice rising in volume with each sentence, so that it echoed around the chamber. "Did you think I would approve? I do not! And furthermore, your behavior toward my son has been abominable. Your actions alone show you are not worthy of him."

"What have I done?" Aragorn asked, confused. Yes, he and Legolas had argued, but it was not Thranduil's affair, and he doubted Legolas would have confided such, and the reasons behind it, to his father. Would he? As for being worthy of Legolas, he knew that he was not, but if Legolas accepted him, again, it was not Thranduil's concern.

If possible, Thranduil's voice grew even louder. "What have you done? You have bonded with my son against my will, joining his soul to your own, and then you rejected him. Did you not know what that would do to him?"

"I have done no such thing," Aragorn denied, his brow furrowing. He had been drunk that night, but he would have noticed something so important as a bonding taking place.

"You lie. He carries the scar to prove it. You have bonded with him and then cast him aside. And now he is dying because of you!"

"Dying . . ." Aragorn paled. A pain-filled dart lodged in his chest. Legolas, dying. No, he refused to believe it. And yet, if they had somehow become bound, and Legolas thought Aragorn did not want him . . . No. He could not think of it. He took a step forward. "If he is dying then let me see him. If we are bound you cannot deny me this. I demand to see him."

Thranduil drew his sword. "You are in no position to make demands here. I should kill you where you stand."

Aragorn saw the flash of metal, but he was too worried about Legolas to dodge the blow that was coming. He felt the tip of the blade pierce the skin of his neck and blood trickle down. Thranduil's steel blue eyes glittered dangerously into his own. At that moment, Aragorn realized he was closer to death than he had ever been, but he did not flinch.

"Run me through, then, and be done with it."

"Nothing would give me greater satisfaction," Thranduil growled. He drew his sword back as if to plunge it through Aragorn's neck, but instead he flung the weapon aside with an angry shout. "But killing you would not bring him back, for all you deserve it."

The defeat in Thranduil's voice frightened Aragorn and he raised a hand in supplication. "Please, Your Majesty, let me see him."

"He will not see you. I will not allow you to see him."

A door to Thranduil's right opened slowly. "Adar. I will listen to him."

Aragorn turned eagerly at the sound of Legolas' voice, his heart hammering in his chest. Legolas' appearance startled him. Dark circles showed beneath dull eyes. His hair hung limp about drooping shoulders. He looked as if he had lost weight. Aragorn's greeting died in his throat. He moved toward Legolas, but Thranduil had already hurried forward to intercept his son.

"Legolas . . ."

"Father, I know you mean well, but this is something I must do. If you will leave us alone, please."

"Legolas, you are not well, and the fault lies with him." Thranduil turned and leveled another glare at Aragorn.

"I am well enough for this," Legolas replied. "Please, Ada."

Thranduil gazed at his son for several moments before relenting. He moved away, pausing at the door. "If you have need of me . . ."

Legolas inclined his head slightly toward his father. He continued staring at the door even after Thranduil had left, gathering the strength he would need to face Aragorn, though he doubted he would ever have enough for that. Finally he moved toward his own chair near his father's throne and sat down heavily upon it.

"What are you doing here, Aragorn?"

The question was so softly spoken Aragorn barely heard it. Still reeling from his encounter with Thranduil and his shock upon seeing Legolas in such a state, he could only reply, "Your father says that we are bound."

"It is so, but do not distress yourself, for it will not be for much longer."

"'Do not distress myself?'" Aragorn moved before Legolas and stared up at him. "You are fading, Legolas. How can that not distress me?"

"Forgive me, but I do not see how news of your freedom from our bond should upset you."

Aragorn clenched his jaw and raked a hand through already disheveled hair. "Of course your dying would upset me. Do you really believe it wouldn't?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Legolas whispered.

"Then will you at least give me a chance to explain? I need to say some things to you, and I–."

"You said enough the last time we spoke. More than enough. Shall I repeat your words to you?"

He could have; every cruel syllable was etched into his heart. He glared at Aragorn, anger, hurt, and grief radiating from his entire being. Why had Aragorn come to torment him further?

Aragorn stared at Legolas and thought he should revise his earlier estimation that Thranduil and his son were completely different in manner. Clearly, they were more alike than not. But underneath the glacial stare lurked a deep sadness, a hurt that Aragorn knew he had caused through careless words and actions.

Guilt welled up within Aragorn. "I would cut out my tongue if it would make those words fade from both our hearts. Please, you must believe me. I was foolish and blind. I didn't realize that I loved you."

Legolas closed his eyes. Oh, how he wanted to believe, not because he was dying, but because until recently he had cherished some hope that Aragorn would come and say these very things to him. And now it was too late. He raised his head to gaze at Aragorn

"Fine words to speak now. Did you expect that you could come here and say you loved me and all would be well?"

"I expected that our friendship meant something to you. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry, but-."

"You were sorry then too. You were ashamed of what we had done, and you pushed me away. You said you . . . didn't want me."

"I wasn't ashamed, I was afraid. And I begged you to stay."

Legolas' eyes darkened. "And how would things have been between us had I stayed? You would have avoided me, made excuses at every turn." His voice fell to a whisper. "Do you know how I felt that morning, Aragorn? I felt used. Soiled."

Aragorn shook his head in denial. "You know it wasn't like that."

"I know no such thing," Legolas replied, beginning to tremble. Fear and hope warred within his breast, with fear gaining the upper hand. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore, Aragorn. Not now. You say you love me, but I don't know if I can believe you."

Legolas continued to gaze at him for several more heartbeats, before his head drooped slightly. He had miscalculated how trying it might be to see Aragorn, and he suddenly wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Nevertheless, he stood and faced Aragorn with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I am weary, Aragorn. I will have Galion show you to your chamber."

And then he turned and walked away, leaving the King of Men staring after him.