Title: Regret

Summery: When you lose a friend to death, it is tragic, but what if you lost them before you got the chance to say, "I'm sorry." Could you live with that?

Note: It's hard for me to believe that you all are still reading this story, to be honest, I started writing it on a whim, and never expected so much feedback on it. Thanks to all the readers and reviewers, for all their support, and hopefully, I'll be able to hold your attention to the very end.

Oh, and a very special hello to MoroTheWolfGod. Hope you had a great birthday!

Anyhoo. Read on…….

Chapter six

"What about them?" one of the men, who went by the name of Aleic asked his captain, as he gestured with his bloody hand over towards the two fallen elves that lay bleeding on the ground, alongside, the other men who the fair folk had managed to kill, before all were either bound, or brought down.

"Leave the corpses. They'll be found in time, besides, we have the other two," Jevinx replied with an evil grin, as he mockingly, patted Piong' battered face with the palm of his hand. In return he received a glare that would have killed him, if looks could do such a thing.

Aleic was hesitant as he rose from his crouched position, beside the two sylvan elves, and quickly met eyes with his leader before continuing to speak. "But they both still breath, Jevinx. Are you sure it's wise to leave them, while they are yet alive?" The man's words caught everyone's attention, human and elf alike, and all turned their eyes to the man who spoke.

This was the best news that Piong could have ever hoped for. Legolas and Morhil were still clinging to life, and refusing to give in to the darkness. However, no matter how much the elven advisor cared about the well being of the guard, his most important priority was, and had always been his prince's safety. "Legolas" he whispered quietly, on reflex, but not as hushed as he would have liked. He immediately bit his tongue for being so careless, when Jevinx turned his gaze from the injured elves, to him, and the back to the golden prince's still form.

"Legolas?" Jevinx repeated with a smile, as he took steps closer to the young, nearly lifeless immortal. Only to have both Piong and Elvomir, scramble to free themselves of the bounds that held them tightly, to the settles of the horses, who were recently brought over by another smaller group of Dunlandings. "I knew that the markings on his clothing were familiar, but I never even comprehended that we had come across the noble heir of Thranduil's throne. Our luck seems to be increasing, for us to now have Prince Legolas in our captivity."

"Don't touch him!" Elvomir hollered, as Jevinx, felt for a pulse under the young elf's ear, and then gently, rolled the prince onto his side, to see the face of his new prisoner. The elf's face was pale, and the usual glow about him, was almost completely gone. He was indeed dying, but all the while, still kept a look of honour on his ageless face.

"Take the arrow out of his back," Jevinx began, as he let the young elf's body fall back to the ground, "and bind his hands. He will not be out for long, and when he wakes, he will most certainly not be in the best of moods. We do not want to have to kill him right away, especially, when we have two others to play with first." he finished, grinning harshly, at the older beings, who had expressions of pure hatred in their eyes.

With another nod, one of the hillmen, proceeded to rip the arrow from the prince's flesh, and toss it to the grass, as another, picked up Legolas' body, and mounted behind it one of the black steeds that were rounded up. Just then, a new man approached Jevinx and asked the question that caught Elvomir's full attention, as well as his companion's. "There are rangers in the area, shouldn't we get moving soon?"

"Yes, and leave the other elf. He'll be long dead before anybody comes across this glen," was Jevinx's reply.

And with that, the Dunlandings, along with their newly taken victims, made off with all haste, and back to the small village, that had become a home away from home to them. It wasn't a long journey, but it wasn't the shortest of trips, and the men knew that they had to make it before any of the rangers that were on their tail, caught up with them, and put an end to their sick and twisted game.

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It had been two and a half hours before something finally caught the rangers' attention. The elven tracks would have been completely lost, if the fair folk had traveled on foot, however, the horses they rode were not as light footed as their riders, and gave the two men enough of a trail, for them to follow.

The closed in glade was a few metres ahead of them, and an ill feeling inhabited Aragorn's heart. Something wrong had occurred here, he could smell the blood in the air, and his anxiety grew, knowing that the stench of death passed the path his friend and the other Mirkwood elves had taken. Something was genuinely wrong, and within a few seconds, both he and Kip, got a full glimpse of what exactly it was that bothered them.

The sight was gruesome, with bloody and broken bodies laying all over the red soaked grass, and the weapons of the diseased were tossed almost everywhere. The soft and cool wind brushed softly against the rangers' faces as they walked, and Kip had to hold his breath, trying not to allow his lunch to resurface, as he and Aragorn stepped over one of the men who had been beheaded with one swift cut.

"Well it seems we have found the group of wild folk that Ginyc and I were tracking. But it also seems, that we were beaten to it," the young ranger spoke to his quieter companion, as they made their way around the gully. Aragorn was listening to Kip, but kept his eyes on the setting around them, as the man continued. "By the looks of some of these arrows in the hillmen, I'd say it was those elves that you spoke of that did this damage. Good thing, they all seemed to have gotten away."

"Not all" Strider replied almost in a yell, as he immediately caught Kip's attention, and both sprinted towards the flaxen elf that lay on his back, eyes closed, and hands gripping the wound to his stomach. At first sight, Aragorn thought that it had been Legolas who was injured, but as he got closer, he realized that the elf wasn't the prince, but Morhil, one of Legolas' guards. The man didn't know if he was disappointed that the immortal they had found wasn't his friend, or if he was overjoyed about it, for the elf was in serious injury, and perhaps even helpless to them. However, he could not draw any positive thoughts, for Legolas and the other elves would not have just left Morhil here to die, they would have died first, and that thought terrified the ranger.

As the two rangers knelt down next to the fallen elf, they noticed that his eyes were beginning to open, and a small moan escaped his shaky lips. When he finally opened his blue-grey eyes, and saw the two men over him, Morhil immediately panicked, and took a swing with his fist, colliding it with Aragorn's chin, causing the man to take a stumble backwards.

"No, please, we're here to help you," Kip assured the worried elf, with a soothing tone, that seemed to relax the fair being somewhat. Aragorn collected himself, and carefully repositioned at a safe enough distance from the elf in case he became a target once again.

"The Dunlandings, they attacked without warning," the weeping elf began, but paused when he gingerly turned his head to his left and eyed the spot where he had last seen the elven prince, only to find the spot vacant, all except for the white dagger, that Legolas had been holding, which laid in a small pool of blood on the dirt covered ground. Aragorn followed the fair one's eyes, and his glare rested also on the knife, which he instantly recognized, and picked up.

"What happened?" Aragorn questioned with a stuttered tone, clenching the handle of the blade in one hand, while rubbing the blood that had come off of it, in the other, knowing right away that it was elven, and most likely the prince's own. Morhil's sobs continued as he relived what had happened to them over in his head. It had all occurred so quickly, and he head was throbbing. He knew that Legolas had been stabbed, and had succumbed to the darkness, but now he was gone, and so were the other two. He had been left by the men, probably to die, and that's exactly what he was doing.

"What happened? Where did Legolas go? Is he seeking aid?" the questions were flowing out of the ranger's mouth, and great distress could be heard in each word he spoke by not only Kip, but by Morhil as well, who was breathing in gasps, as he tried to respond to Aragorn's inquiries.

"He lowered his weapon," Morhil began hesitantly, causing he younger man's head to shoot up, and instantaneously locked his vision upon Aragorn, whose jaw dropped, and tears were forming in his eyes, as realization sank in about what the elf was about to say to them. "I tried to stop him, but it was too late," the elf continued as Aragorn began to shake his head in denial. "We tried to protect him, but there were too many of them."

As the elf finished, Kip couldn't help but allow a tear to escape his own eye, and he put a hand on both the shoulder of Morhil, and on the shoulder of Strider, who was starting to hyperventilate. "No," Aragorn responded, still shaking his head, "Legolas would never put his weapon down. He would never stop fighting." The man's reply was met with more tears from the elven guard, who gripped the wound to his abdomen, as pain erupted again when he spoke, "he had no choice. They gave him no choice."

Aragorn' refused to believe it, "no! There is always a choice, he would never give in, not in something like this. He's fine. Where is he? I must get to him."

Tears were pouring openly from all of them now, "Strider, you have to calm down" Kip tried to comfort the man, but to no avail. Aragorn plunged the white dagger into the earthy ground, and rose to his feet with a groan. "No!" he protested again, as he walked a few feet away from them, trying to clear his aching mind. He couldn't have been too late. It wasn't suppose to happen like this. He was suppose to find his friend, and apologize to the elf for the way he acted. They were suppose to make up, and journey back to Rivendell until the threat of the wild folk diminished. Legolas wasn't suppose to get hurt. He had been enough, by Aragorn himself. The prince had to be fine, it could not end like this. Not yet. Not when so much had gone unsaid between them, not before Aragorn could tell Legolas how much he valued his friendship.

His thoughts were suddenly put to a halt when his eyes rested upon something that laid in the grass, and the very sight of it broke the ranger's heart. The elven craftsmanship was clearly shown by the markings on the ivory bow, and the detailed leaves of Mirkwood carved into the shaft of the weapon were instantly recognized. With a sigh, and a deep breath, Aragorn bent down and retrieved the bow from the ground, and admired it intensely, as he had done weeks ago, when Legolas had let him try it out. Aragorn knew that Legolas never let the weapon out of his sight, for it was the prince's nature to always be ready for anything. For the elf to have left it behind meant that something ill had occurred to prevent him from bringing it with him.

Which meant that what Morhil had said, was true. Legolas had lowered the weapon, and made the mistake that had cost him his immortal life. Aragorn had lost his best friend, his only friend, and he would never get the opportunity to apologize for the wrong he had bestowed upon Thranduil's son. He felt as though his world was about to collapse, and he suddenly found it hard to breath. Never had he considered the possibility that something would befall Legolas before he could reach him, but it had, and now there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"Strider," Kip's voice brought Aragorn out of the trance he had fallen into, and the man turned to face the ranger who approached him, "the elf is fading. He needs aid, and fast, we must get him to Lord Elrond, now."

"I can't just leave Legolas out here."

"Legolas is gone, my friend. You heard what the other said," Kip reluctantly replied, knowing that his words were burning a hole through the heart of the man he was speaking to. "I promise you, I will aid you in your vengeance upon the ones who took Legolas' life, but right now, there is an elf that we can still yet save. Do not ignore that Strider, we must go back."

Aragorn hated the idea of going back to Imladris without Legolas, however he knew that Kip was right, Morhil was dying, and he could not fail Legolas again by allowing one of his close friends to suffer death. He agreed to take the elf back t Lord Elrond, but as soon as that was done, he would be right back here, and he would seek out the ones who took the life of his closest friend, and had caused him and others so much grief.

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To Be Continued……

I know that the chapters seem to be getting longer, so I hope that isn't a problem. I also hope that you guys like this one, cause it took me a while to write. I had some writer's block, and even though I knew what was suppose to happen in this chapter, I found it hard to put it into words, so hopefully it came out alright. So anyhow, if you have any questions, comments, suggestions or predictions, just review and let me know. Thanks. Adios.