The arrow pierced Gimli's skull almost effortlessly. As Legolas tried to run towards him, he felt the air become sticky and thick, like honey. It took almost all of his energy to run. He dropped to his knees, and began to scream. It must have been almost a quarter-of-an-hour before he noticed the squinting goblin eyes, simple and focused. Dutifully, he raised his bow. He blinked, tears of black blood rolling down his cheeks. Most of the goblins had returned to the dust from whence they came, whereas he was barely touched. I killed Gimli. I killed him. my best friend. My only friend. My only wish now is die. But, I cannot. Not here. Not now. He danced between the orcs, slicing delicately with his sword. He came face to face with the leader. He wore the most, and the best, of the scavenged armour, which was rusty and mismatched. You made me kill him. It is your.No. There is no blame, excepting that which lies on my shoulders. I am flawed, as of all our kind. I am cursed with the elven arrogance. Finding a suitable memory, he locked onto it. The sneering goblin became an elven slave, brought for him to kill in ritual combat. To prove his worth. He definitely did not feel worthy. He looked around him. The image that entered his eyes was a large, empty cavern, the floor littered with the bodies of a hundred goblin warriors. It was subtly converted, and presented to his brain as a wood. He had been brought out here to learn about the elven way, the right way. Elves were superior. He had never believed it, not even at that age. As he grew older, it seemed less and less important. Until the life-changing journey that made him look inside himself, beneath where he was an elf, to where he was a person. He brought his sword up to parry the claw-style blades crudely attached to the goblin's wrists. He tore one off. But the distracted thoughts, the battle inside him, allowed the goblin to get in an important strike, and slashed through his wrist. There would be no more mistakes like that, thought Legolas. But it was a younger Legolas. A humbler Legolas. He clambered up, from where he had been pushed back, and tripped over some tree roots. He wouldn't take that from a slave. The elven arrogance began to cloud his judgement. He lifted the sword. It came down on the goblin's head. Instead of the sickening, unforgettable wet crack he had expected, as the slave's skull caved in; there came a scrape, of metal on metal. The shock dazed him, and the goblin took advantage. He punched Legolas in the face, bringing the claws through his skin.