Disclaimer: They're a bunch of lies with characters that could never be mine. So I'm not Tolkien.

Author Notes: I can't believe I've gotten so many reviews with this thing. Seriously guys, thank you. You have no idea what your kind words mean to me. Again, English is my second language so I apologize for spelling or grammar mistakes. Elvish is how I think it goes, and probably mistaken . Galadriel speaks in Quenya again, just a line.

Master in Deceiving
By Yours Truly

After a few hours of a nightmare-plagued sleep, Legolas let his eyes gain focus to stare at the company spread out in blankets across from him. Beneath the trees of Lothlórien, Legolas saw them all rest peacefully at long last, not needing to set shifts to guard their rest for the first time since Rinvendell. He sat up and stretched, uncomfortable with the tension that would not leave his frame. Frodo twitched next to him when Legolas arose, and Boromir's sleep seemed strangely troubled, but none of them woke. He carefully stepped around the sleeping bodies in his path, deciding to explore the woods of Lórien while the chance was still upon him. The beautiful trees around him beckoned, as if sensing the presence of a Wood Elf among them, and their song did more to soothe his mind than any other thing Legolas had so far encountered. Walking aimlessly, he sighed, sorrow welling up into his heart as his thoughts strayed. Soon, he would leave these woods behind. Not only them, but he would forfeit the quest. His purpose, his friends...

//I should not return to Mirkwood after this ends.// He mused darkly, mood somber despite the voice of the forest //My father shall never again wish to see my face. He trusted me to represent our realm. I cannot come back and play the part of a prince as if nothing ever happened after such a failure. He will not have me back.// The thoughts rang true within him, but knowing he was correct did not soothe the pain of such a realization. Bitter sorrow made him stop his wandering, opting instead to climb the nearest tree to sit on its highest branch. The mallorn sheltered him and Legolas patted its bark, resting his back against the trunk to think.

//Where then can I go?// He wondered, trying to think of a suitable place to live. He did not wish to leave Middle-Earth as many of his kin were wont to do. He was young still, in the eyes of his people. In different years, he would have been considered a child among the Fair Ones, but the time of the Elves faded and too few of them were left on these shores for such a thing to matter. He was old enough to be independant, too young still to sail away. //Rivendell, perhaps? But surely Lord Elrond would see my failure in an even starker light than father will. Elrond has chosen me to represent our race. //

//You can always go to Moria// He found his own thoughts taunting, and he closed his eyes against the images of such an abode //the place of darkness. You belong there now. A monster in your kin's eyes. A murderer. A coward.//

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Gandalf's voice in his thoughts was as if imbedded there, an endless reminder. Strong, it sounded, clear as it had echoed that day; as strong it would never sound again. "I am a servant of the Secret Flame, wielder of the flame of Anor..."

//Not anymore. He's ashes and dust, decaying flesh of mortality. All that he is, thanks to your cowardice, is dead.// An elven voice had never sounded so cruel, of that Legolas was certain. His thoughts turned against him, it seemed, as if his guilt had taken on a tangible manifestation. But his guilt spoke no lies. He did not even deserve to be an Elf after what he did.

"Fly, you fools!"

//And that is what I did is it not? Did I not run away after he had been dragged down after doing nothing to help?// The bitter thoughts had not abbandoned him since that day. He had stood there, helpless as a child. He had not even tried to change things. Could he have not severed the Balrog's hold on Gandalf//Return to Moria would not be about penance. it would be about restoring the order of things. Give the great gate what it wanted. It wanted you. "Anno i cunn!" it called.//

Give the prince, indeed.

//Do something right// his voice urged him on, and Legolas opened his eyes to stare at his hands, lying limp upon his lap. The reasoning within the argument was not without fail, but was it not as should have been? Could the evil of Moria be mollified//You are of no further value alive. Scorned by your kin, rejected by your friends and family, what is there left? You are weak. Haldir has seen it first hand, you may ask him or his brothers. You will find no slace in these woods.//

Legolas let himself dwell upon it, and did not see why he should not. The idea of dying, of throwing himself into such darkness as what hid in Moria did not appeal. He was afraid, as weak as his thoughts indicated. But it was a sacrifice he owed a friend he had let down. He nodded to himself, feeling determined for the first time since that day. He would leave on the morrow and Moria would be his final resting place, before Thranduil was faced with the disgrace of his son. If the Balrog did not come for him, then the abyss- Gandalf's tomb- would become his own.

With that thought, Legolas found his breath catching in his throat as something that hadn't ocurred to him before rose up like an image he could not erase, a vision of a fate he'd wish on no living creature.

It was there. Gandalf's shattered body lying in the bottom of an endless abyss, blood spattered in patterns around awkwardly twisted limbs. Broken bones causing unbereable pain upon an old body, breathing sharp and fading as ribs protuded horribly from a sunken-in chest. Lying there, surrounded by complete, suffocatting darkness with not a sign of hope, not even a star in the stifling pit he laid in. Lying there, dying in slow drips of timeless agony, but living still for hours, for days afterwards. Living still and suffering the slow decay of the flesh as death crept in on too slow feet.

"Legolas!" The Wizard's voice called brokenly, sounding so real, so terribly real…

"Legolas Greenleaf! Where are you now?"

And Legolas felt his heart give a lurch for the voice was real, calling from him from beneath the branches of his tree. He felt his façade crumble, face showing his distress as he heard the steps approaching. He could not shake the image of Gandalf's face from his mind, pale, bloodied lips calling for him. It was too real.

//You can't handle it. It is you who is weak//

"Legolas!" Mithrandir's gaze was dull and deadened, cold fingers twisted in grotesque shapes as they lifted trembling from the darkness of Moria's abyss. There was accusation there, in the agonized eyes of a friend Legolas had done nothing to save. "Legolas!" Blood blubbed up from Mithrandir's disfigured mouth, a grimace of hatred twisting the almost unrecognizable features as he called for him.

Panic hit so suddenly, he could not repress it. Bolting to his feet on the tree branch he was on, Legolas climbed down faster than any mortal could have seen, hands a blur of motion as he gripped the branches on his way. Cuts lines his face but he did not feel them, hearing as if from a far the saddened voice of the mallorn he stood on. His breathing hitched and sped up, blind eyes not seeing where he went as he sought to reach the ground and run, don't let Mithrandir find him, don't let him near-

He could see Gandalf there, waiting, bloodied form bathed in darkness. His face was a horrifying vision, all the more for the familiarity still discernable on its decay, furious eyes demanding retribution, demanding Legolas' very life through torn lips. And the image was crawling at first, broken limbs dragging behind him at odd angles, but then it was standing, standing in a knot of bone and flesh and Legolas could feel a scream rising in his throat for it was coming closer. It was coming for him.

"Legolas!" The voice was louder, closer; he could hear the steps getting closer, closer…he was almost there and Legolas could not get away fast enough, could not even climb down before it-

With a startled cry, Legolas missed the next branch his feet was aiming for. He felt the tumble then and with sickening clarity, Legolas felt his body loose its balance, tumbling backwards in a weightless moment that lasted an eternity. He was falling. In slow motion, he was tumbling down and distantly he realized he was still too high up in the tree. Too far from the ground, and the fall would be over in seconds. Falling endlessly, but he would hit the ground and it would never be far enough. Never like Gandalf.

"Ai!" He felt the scream ripped from his throat, shock and fear he could not control tumbling from his lips as the twisted image of Gandalf on his mind seemed to smile.

//You deserve this// He felt his body hit a branch, a dull agony as he felt the ground rushing up behind him, fleetingly giving him a moment to hope it'd be enough to snap his neck in half but not a moment to try to grab onto something.

"By Elbereth! Legolas!"

Legolas started in shock as instead of the hard ground he'd expected, he felt a pair of strong arms- very strong arms- catch him, breaking the full impact of his fall.

//No…//

He landed in something- rather someone- hard, the air stolen from both of their lungs as the fall took them both- Legolas and 'saviour'- crashing hard into the ground, where leaves from the trees lessened some of the pain. Legolas landed upon his right side, ribs protesting in agony. Even through it, though, the Elf realized numbly that though badly bruised, he had not even shattered a bone.

Whoever had caught him had saved his life.

//Damn him//

He stayed on the ground, incredulous, willing his body to hurt more than it did as he came to terms with what had happened. He had almost died. Almost. The thought brought with it a painful twist in his chest that had little to do with the fall as he felt the sudden touch of other's hands on him. His saviour. He was carefully rolled onto his back, hands exploring him for broken bones or permanent damage and when he re-opened his eyes, Legolas found himselfstaring into Aragorn's distressed face. The Man's mouth moved, but Legolas did not hear the words.

//Perhaps this is my punishment after all. Am I deaf?//

But it was not to be. Slowly, as the minutes dragged by, his heart lost its staccatto rhythm and the shock and fear seemed to abandon him in waves. As if through a fog, his hearing came back bit by bit and before long he could hear his friend's voice, sounding more frantic that he had heard him in years.

"Legolas! Answer me, please mellon nîn. Are you alright? Where are you hurt?" Aragorn asked insistingly, patting him for injuries.

//But there are none.// He thought faintly, meeting Aragorn's eyes calmly //There are none where there should be many.//

"Legolas!"

And the thought struck him suddenly, with an edge of hysteria, that earlier it had been Aragorn's voice calling for him. Not Gandalf's. The nightmarish visuals, the voice of Mithrandir- it'd all been in his mind.

"I'm alright, my friend. I must thank you." He murmured at last, reading the relief that flooded Aragorn's grey eyes with detachment. He looked away first and made as if to sit up, but the Man was quick to stop him with a gentle hand upon his aching chest.

"Stay there, Legolas. Lay down. I just need to see if you're not hurt anywhe-"

"I'm not." Legolas cut him off, shaking off the hand with more force than necessary. Reading the hurt in Aragorn's eyes he softened his tone, trying to sound convincing. "Thanks to you, I am not." .

Aragorn frowned but gave the Elf more room to move as Legolas sat up in front of him. He seemed physically all right. But his voice- the Ranger noted- was hardly thankful. He sounded angry, and the idea that such a tone brought up in Aragorn was not one he ever wished to associate with a friend. Surely Legolas had not-

"Do you resent that you are not wounded?" He murmured faintly, sure the Elf would hear it. He sought Legolas' eyes, but the prince stubbornly looked away.

"If I did, surely you would know the reason." Legolas answered at length and Aragorn felt the words like a blow in the chest. He must have tensed, for Legolas shifted slightly away and continued as if he'd always meant to add. "But I do not resent the fact."

Thoughts raced for a moment, but Aragorn finally voiced them, placing a tentative hand on Legolas' left shoulder "Legolas. You- You did not jump off that tree, did you? It was an accident."

Anger almost broke through Legolas' calm countenance, but the Elf reigned it in, turning an icy-glare on his friend' dubious eyes. "No, Estel, I did not. I was climbing down when I missed a branch and lost my balance. 'Tis embarassing enough without you making it worse."

Aragorn nodded after a moment, holding Legolas gaze for a stretch of time before nodding, face unreadable. He was not- could not be- certain of the Elf's state of mind. The version sounded unlikely and weak for a Wood Elf and given Legolas' mood since Gandalf's demise, Aragorn could not help but worry. There was, however, a spark of sincerity in those eyes he knew so well, and the Ranger above all, would not dare to mistrust his friend at this point. He could not risk a rift between them now, when Legolas needed friends the most.

"Legolas, I've been looking for you for a while now. You left the company quietly this morning." Aragorn paused then, sat up on the ground and hid the grimace at the pain from the bruises he'd earned in catching Legolas. "We need to talk about what you told me."

"What would that be?" Legolas asked lightly, standing up and shaking off fallen leaves from his clothes. The Elf straightened up, ignoring the pain on his right side, and when no answer was forthcoming met Aragorn's tired gaze with a speck of guilt on his blue gaze.

"You know of what I speak." Aragorn told him simply, standing to face him. Legolas looked away from him not long after, looking up to the trees around them with an air of sadness that was not lost on the ranger's keen eye.

"Yes, I do know. There is nothing more to speak of, Estel. I will be departing the fellowship in the morrow." After a tense silence, in which Aragorn seemed too shocked to speak, he added, "I'll be heading back to Mirkwood."

//Mirkwood? Was is it not Moria, dearest prince? Should your best friend not know of your plans?//
//No. No, he does not need to know that, he will try to stop me. He has enough on his mind, he- he should not pity my fate.//

"You cannot abandon us now, Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed when he realized his friend spoke sincerely, shocked the prince would even consider such a course of action. The fellowship could not fail. Too much depended on them, everything depended on them. Aragorn could not allow it to fail, would give his life to prevent it. But without Legolas at his side, without the support of his friend through such a journey, it- nay, he might fail.

"I have done far worse deeds, Aragorn. I murdered one of you. Why would you endanger the rest?" Legolas admitted softly, turning away when Aragorn tried to face him again. The forest around them seemed painfully silent, and Legolas felt an oppression in his breast that, as always, did not reflect on his face. His stoic and detached eyes pierced through Aragorn, even though Legolas would not meet his gaze directly. The Ranger could not take such attitude any longer and he reached a quick hand to raise the Elf's face, forcing the blue orbs to meet his.

"Murder?" He whispered incredulously, discouraged when Legolas nodded firmly. But Aragorn was no fool and no stranger to this Elf. And his emotions, so well hidden in his features, were shining visibly in his gaze. Anger, determination, self-loathing and such grief that Aragorn felt true fear for his dearest friend.

"Legolas, how could you even think such? You did not- could not- murder Mithrandir. He fell into shadow. He did it to save us! Surely, my friend, you saw what-"

"He shouldn't have had to save us!" Legolas cut in cleanly, even voice a constrast to Aragorn's incredulity. "Had I done what was right and gave Moria what it was after, he would be alive, Estel. Moria called for me."

"Legolas, stop and think. Even if you are right, even if the Mines of Moria called for the Elf in our company of nine, tell me, you would have surrendered? Would you have given in without even a fight for your own life? Had it called for me, would you blame me?" Aragorn took a step forward, grabbed Legolas' shoulders tightly as if to ground him. "Legolas, you do not give up. To think of you just dying-"

"-like I was supposed to?" Legolas finished for him, taking a step back from the human's grip. "It was my time, Aragorn. It was my call. I was being summoned and I ignored it because I was afraid. Mithrandir's death is my responsability."

"You were being called by the darkness Legolas; not the Valar, not destiny! It was darkness. Evil. You do not serve darkness. You do not give in to it."

"And Mithrandir did?" Legolas hissed, anger finally showing on his features as Aragorn faltered.

"No, he did not." Another voice interceded, and both males turned to look at the Lady of the Woods. Galadriel stood there, dressed in white and surounded in a golden glow that seemed to follow her. There was no expression upon her face, but both Elf and Man felt a reprimand for their behaviour just by her presence.

"Cundu Legolas, tula." (Prince Legolas, come) Her musical voice ordered after a tense pause. Legolas straightened up, watching as she walked away from them, expecting the younger elf to follow. With a last glance to Aragorn, which clearly asked not to follow, Legolas did. He easily fell into step besides her, walking in silence for long minutes before daring to give voice to his curiosity.

"What would the Lady want with me?" He asked respectfully, walking through a hidden garden Legolas had not known existed. No trees grew there, and it lay open to the sky. Down a long flight of steps the Lady went into a deep green hollow, through which ran murmuring the silver stream that issued from the fountain on the hill.

"The Lady would like to show you, now, what she promised to show you earlier." Galadriel answered with a side-glance to his face. She noticed, as she noticed it all, that Legolas could not hide well the grimace of pain when he walked, but she said nothing. For his part, Legolas nodded and was silent, as he was led through paths of beautiful green.

Finally they stopped their descent and there, where a low pedestal carved like a branching tree stood, Galadriel spoke once more.

"Will you look into the mirror, son of Thranduil?"