Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 19

      Legardo's chest heaved, his eyes afire.  He opened his mouth, and wished he could lie.  But his older brother's steely, frigid gaze only dared him to try it.  This was the face the uruks feared, he realized.  The face that lent Legolas his legend on the battlefield.  This was what it meant to have Thranduil's truest son as one's enemy.  Legardo set his jaw instead, and took a step back, lowering his sword.

      ~It is over,~ Legolas told him quietly, warily lowering his own weapon.  His gaze softened as he stared at his younger brother, searching for answers, searching for reasons.

      ~What did I tell you?~ Sala said triumphantly.

      ~I would want to be forgotten right now, if I were you,~ Elrohir muttered at him.

      ~Why?~ Legolas asked his younger brother.  To have a kingdom was a common dream, yes.  But it was not desire enough to kill one's own brother for; at least, it never was, for Legolas.  He could not comprehend what could be so great to gain in exchange for one's loved one, one's soul.  He could not comprehend the traitorousness, the madness, the utter selfishness of it.  His own blood… How had he not seen this festering evil? How could it have been a hatred so great and so well concealed?

      ~Oh, I did not dislike him,~ Legardo replied offhandedly after a moment wherein Legolas felt perhaps his question would not be indulged at all, ~I loved Lesandro, I did.  Who could not? And when I mourned for him I truly, truly grieved.  Each night ada and I would come to his grave, I mourned.~

      ~Then why did you kill him?~ asked Legolas, his voice a mere whisper in the room that was weighty with truths and secrets, weighty with a pain that thickened the air.  Old wounds will be shown this night, old ghosts will rise.  They will stir madly and break the heart before they can be put to rest at last.

      ~I did not,~ replied Legardo, looking away from Legolas and studying the gleaming sheen of his sword, ~At least not of my own will.  That day you two rode to hunt orc, I was out with a company of our men, learning how to be a proper soldier.  So that others may see me at last.  So that ada and you, and Lesandro too will see I am as good as all the rest of you.  I got separated from my group.  I heard a sound and I shot without knowing for a certainty what was there.  My arrow went wide.  But I knew for a certainty that I hit something.  It was only later did I realize it was him.~

      ~An accident,~ Legolas whispered, wondering if he should feel relief.  His brother was no so evil after all.  Perhaps he was just afraid.  He was young.  It was all right to be.  Legolas could even forgive what was done to him as a result of Legardo's inept shooting and subsequent secrecy.  He was young.  He was afraid.  All that he did afterwards was just a consequence of his one, unintended mistake.  But after all the flow of truth, it was Legardo who would not let the story end there.

      ~Of course,~ said Legardo, ~they thought it was you.  I was not a full soldier yet, from where else could I have gotten my bows but from your stock in the palace? You had the arrows, you had the motives, you had the opportunity.  Who else could it have been?  And I was once more forgotten, but this time for the best.  My best.  I could not have come forward to save you, Legolas.  You must understand, it would have been daft of me to do so.  First because it meant giving up myself.  Then because it meant giving up the kingdom I will inherit.  But mostly, I did not wish to spare you. 

      ~Oh, how entertaining it was,~ Legardo continued, ~to watch the golden prince fall.  The golden prince of Mirkwood, kinslayer, and a coward killed in his pathetic attempt to escape.~

      ~Why do you hate me so?~ Legolas asked, heartbroken.  He loved Lesandro greatly, and it pained him not to have been as good of a brother to Legardo as Lesandro had been to him.  He felt like a failure. 

      Legardo rolled back his eyes, ~You do not know how it is to grow up after you, Legolas.  Thranduil's truest son,~ he spat out bitterly, ~The beauty of his mother, the spirit and skill of his father.  You certainly left none for me, brother.  You have taken much.  I have only taken what is fair and right by me.~

      ~You have robbed me of my life,~ Legolas said shakily, his hands fisting with his mounting rage and frustration.

      ~And you have robbed me of mine,~ said Legardo, ~All is fair.  All is right.~

      ~They have all heard now,~ Legolas said, referring to Sala and Elrohir, ~The world will know.~

      Legardo glanced at the two other elves in the room, shrugged.  ~I am not fool enough to believe I can defeat all three of you in a battle.  The world will know, yes, yes they will.  But they will know too late.  They will not have you anymore.~

      With a mad cry, he lunged at Legolas, who barely had time to parry with his sword.  Legardo's offensive was reckless and angry, all the rage of all his years pushing him forward, lending him strength, even as Legolas' resolve to remain solely on the defensive lent him great weakness.

      ~Much as I am sure you would love to see them slay each other,~ Elrohir said to a fascinated Lord Sala watching the brothers, ~Now would be a good time to call for aid, my lord.~

      Sala tore his gaze from the fight and nodded, leaving his suite in a rustle of robes, keeping the door ajar.  Elrohir, sword drawn, was torn between assisting Legolas and letting him keep his honor in a fight that had undoubtedly become a duel.  Elrohir decided to stay his ground.  This was a fight of brothers, with a history of anger and pain that only they themselves can resolve. Besides, it seemed Legolas had things well in order. 

      More or less, he corrected himself.

* * *

      The King of Mirkwood, flanked by three younger advisors, and Estel and Elladan, turned a corner on their way to Lord Sala's suite and ran into the man himself.

      The elf lord yelped, colliding into the King.  Estel of course, has never seen him before.  But Elladan, recognizing the elf, stepped forward and pulled the elf lord away from the King, sighting the dagger that he still clutched tightly in one hand.

      ~What is this madness?!~ the King uttered.

      ~A fight, a fight!~ Sala exclaimed, shaking off Elladan's grip.  He looked a little excited, his eyes glistening, almost manic.  He was breathless and nervous as well.  The party of six looked at him as if he was insane.  If there was indeed a fight, they expected him to be in it.

      ~Between whom, Sala?~ asked Thranduil impatiently, ~Speak!~

      ~Your sons, my lord!~ answered Sala, ~In my suite! Legolas, he is back!~

      Thranduil took a deep breath and quickened his pace.  ~Bring him along,~ he ordered his men, who took Lord Sala by the arms, as if he needed further prodding. 

      Estel's jaws set as he thought of his friend.

      I turn my back on you for one moment, he thought, inexplicably annoyed.

* * *

      The duel has steadily moved out of the suite as it got rougher, and the stakes got higher as time pressed on.  Legardo knew he had little time to succeed in that which he set out to do.  Sala and the aid he will bring with him would be by soon, and then he wouldn't have a chance at all, as if it wasn't already hard enough to contend with Legolas alone.

      His older brother was giving him the easy way through, he soon realized with anger and dismay that even made him more reckless.  He was not a match for Legolas.  He never was.  They both knew this, and Legolas still showed him mercy, not fighting at full strength.  This infuriated him.  The charity was embarrassing, insulting.

      ~Fight me, you fool!~ Legardo yelled as he pressed forward.  Legolas just grunted in reply, blocking blow after blow.  They moved out of the room, into the halls.  It was narrower and far more difficult to fight in.  He often found himself backed against a wall, ducking to dodge a lethal swing that sent sparks flying from rock and sword.

      Moving past his brother, Legolas found an opening in Legardo's poor defenses.  He twisted his grip upon his daggers, and hit Legardo's side with the hilt, rather than the blade.  The other elf yelped and backed away, holding his side as he tried to catch his breath.

      ~Cease this madness,~ Legolas asked him, ~Please, brother.  It is done.  Lay down your arms.~

      Legardo's face was flushed with exertion and anger, ~It is done for me, yes,~ he conceded, ~But I cannot accept that in the end it is still you who would have everything!~

      He lunged forward again, and the fatal dance continued.

* * *

      Elrohir watched them carefully, determined to keep the situation free of intervention unless he sensed any real danger.  Legolas was doing extremely well, but that was to be expected.  Either way, he trailed them and stood on vigilant guard as they moved from room to hall, hall to anterooms and chambers, eventually finding themselves at one of the courtyards in the palace.  It was a good place for a duel, Elrohir thought, and wondered if the clever Legolas intentionally brought them there, the open space giving him more room to dodge blows.

      Naturally, their fighting was garnering them attention up and down the palace.  Confused sentries seeing a ghost of their spurned golden prince fighting with his younger brother, curious courtiers and advisers, all rallied around the duelists, not quite knowing what to do.

      ~Hold your fire,~ Elrohir called to the soldiers, who were undoubtedly aiming at Legolas, the known murderer now seemingly fighting the present heir to the throne.

      This does not look good at all, Elrohir thought, wondering where in the world are Elladan and Estel? Was fate so cruel that she would send him complications and no aid?!

      The soldiers, though Elrohir was fairly certain they did not know who he was or what his right was to command them, followed his demand.

      Most likely because I am the only one here who knows what he is doing, he thought miserably.

      More or less.

* * *

      Thranduil and his group pushed their way through the onlookers, who made way for him when they realized their sovereign has arrived.  All the courtyard was silent, saved for the high-pitched clinging and the swooshing of the blades as his sons fought each other.

      ~Halt!~ he commanded his sons, ~Legolas! Legardo! You will cease this now!~

      ~He will not desist, ada!~ Legolas said breathlessly, bending to avoid his death for the nth time that night.  He leaped back, away from Legardo's range, and threw up his hands, to show the onlookers his willingness to surrender and follow the will of the King.

      Legardo, caught in his rage, seemed just now made aware of the situation.  He paused from battle, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, looking around him.  His eyes were wide with realization and fear, and then anger and defiance, tinged with more than a hint of madness.  He began to laugh.

       ~Welcome back,~ Legardo drawled at his brother, ~I thought it would take more than a tumble to wrest you from this Earth.~ Legolas' heart constricted.  Legardo said those exact same words to him early in the night, except this time, it was lined by malice, desire to hurt, heavy, heavy sarcasm and pressing hatred.

      ~I've never done anything to you to merit this,~ Legolas said to him, hurt.

      Legardo blinked at him, as if torn from inside himself.  But he had paid much, too much already at this point to begin to doubt himself.  Legolas had everything, he had nothing, and it was always the case.  Ever since they were children.  Up until now. 

      I have nothing, he thought bitterly, lunging forward again.

      Legolas went on the defensive once more.

      Thranduil watched them in horror, but turned away when one of his military commanders asked him what they ought to do.  He glanced around, and noted that his well-disciplined palace guards are already strategically in place.  Specifically, the archers.  It was only a question of upon which elf to aim.

      ~Hold your fire,~ Thranduil told him coolly, showing no sign of his fledging control, ~Tell the guards ensure that only military personnel are around.  Keep the people out of harm's way before weapons are released.~

      The commander nodded, bowed and scurried to do as his king bid. 

      Estel was standing beside the King, knowing his orders were made mostly to buy him time until he could figure out what to do with his sons.

      ~Tell Legolas to end it, sire,~ said Estel to him quietly, ~You know he can, if he so desired.~

      Thranduil turned to him with furrowed brows.  ~To end it?~

      ~He will know what to do,~ Estel said, ~If he is who we all know him to be, he will do the right thing.~

      Thranduil's eyes drifted back to the battle. 

      ~Legolas!~ the King commanded, ~End it!~

* * *

      Legolas was Mirkwood elf long enough to know if it was the King making a demand or if it was his father.  Thranduil was both, and Legolas knew only to defy the side of Thranduil that was his ada, but certainly not the side of Thranduil that was the King.

      End it, the King commanded in a detached, high-handed tone.  It will not suffer defiance. 

      Gritting his teeth in determination, Legolas shifted from defense to offense.  He took a step forward and swung his sword against Legardo's.  For the first time that night, Legardo was forced to take a step back, forced to parry.  Legolas was fighting now, and a fierce warrior he was.  He will take all that he desired.

      His blows struck so hard it was like hitting rock.  Legardo picked the wrong foe to court.  While his own skills have been honed by time, this was a warrior's instinct he could not match.

      Legolas' swings were perfect, well-calculated arcs that were the stuff of his legend.  His precision was stunning, and Legardo soon found it harder and harder to ward off the vicious attack.  He had to dodge so quickly he kept stumbling over his own feet.

      In two more moves, Legardo was disarmed and on the ground, his sword soaring to the air and landing with a resounding, final clang some distance away, taken by the force of Legolas' assault.  Two feet away it was, but it might as well have been two leagues.  He will never be able to get it back. 

      Legolas stalked forward, and let the blade of his sword rest against his brother's neck.

      ~So it ends,~ Legardo seethed, looking up at the victor, his brother, who once again stole from him.

      ~I do not understand,~ said Legolas softly, ~I never will.  Still I find I can forgive you for taking my life away from me.  But what I cannot forgive, is that you found joy in it.  My brother, my own flesh and blood.~

      His voice trembled, though his eyes and his grip on his sword remained resolute.  ~You break my heart.  Perhaps this is why I cannot even find the heart to kill you.  Or maybe it is because though your soul is black and bought, I still see our mother on your face, and ada, and Lesandro.  But mostly, I find I cannot kill you because you are already dead to me, brother.  It is over.  Goodbye.~

      Legolas stepped away, and turned his back on his brother, as much then in that moment, as much for ever.

      Nose flaring, eyes afire, Legardo could not accept his defeat.  Slowly and shakily, he got to his feet, drawing a dagger from the back of his boot.

      ~Legolas!~ Estel cried, having seen the motion.

      Legardo lunged forward, plunging the dagger deep against his brother's back, and twisting it slowly.

      ~They said Lesandro had mother's kindness,~ Legardo whispered triumphantly against Legolas' ear, ~And you had the King's spirit.  But I… I always had the cunning, brother.  It is you who are dead, not I.~

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 20…