A/N: Thank you, flamers, for awakening me to the fact that this is so incredibly sucky. You are all absolutely right. This is piece of a shit. I can't believe I've gone this long without realizing it. It does move way too quickly, it is incredibly redundant in many aspects of the plot, it's not subtle enough, it sux like hell. Forgive me for subjecting you all to reading this crap. If u cast this out from your memory, I will totally understand. It's just gotten too long for me to write it all over again from scratch right now, but I will try once it's finished and hopefully, the 2nd version won't suck as bad. God, I can't believe what kind of horrible writer I am. Damn.. As for the rest of you who were ever so gracious and nice about this God- awful piece of shit, thank you for your benevolent reviews and words. It is very much appreciated indeed. I will continue to post what I've written, but please except my deepest and sincerest apologies for how much this sucks. The following is short. I now I loathe myself further.

Part 36

In the light of dawn, the armies of Men and Elves set out over the plains of Rohan. One headed for Mordor, the other for Isengard. Neither knew their fate.

Aragorn was silent and stern as he rode Hasufel at the front of the army of Men beside Theoden and Eomer. Gimli sat behind him, looking to his left where the army of Elves was outlined against the dawn. He could not see Legolas' face, but he knew the Elf prince rode solemnly upon Arod at the head of his army, leading them to Mordor.The Dwarf hoped he would see his fair face again.

Legolas sat upon Arod at the top of a hill overlooking the plains. The wind lifted his hair across his neck, and his eyes were bright,weary,and cold. He would ride to the gates of Mordor and lead his people there, putting their lives before his own. Putting the fate of Middle Earth before his own.

Legolas let Arod glide down the hill, the army of Elves following behind him over the grass. He rodes hard and fast, letting his Elves stay at a distance behind him as they traveled on foot. He rode, let the wind slip beneath Arod's hooves, let the stallion take him swift, let himself feel free, invincible, like he had wings.

Aragorn rode at a steady pace beside Theoden and Eomer, surveying the land with them. His thoughts were on Legolas, on all the spiteful words that were uttered in the armory chamber, on the coldness of the Elf's eyes as he had left. He could not let personal affairs mingle with duty. That had always been a rule. But he could not rid his mind of Legolas' eyes.

Legolas gazed to the land before him, tears escaping him as the white tresses of Arod's mane whipped up around his face.He remembered vividly the fight in the armory room. The words, the tension, the hatred. It was something he let slide off him then, but something that was now unbearable.

And now he rode to Mordor. He rode to fire and evil and an uncertain fate. He rode to death, ultimately. But he did not fear it. He did not fear pain or suffering. He had only feared that he would not have Aragorn to see him though the end, and his one fear had struck him in the face and strangled him.

Aragorn felt the toil sink within him. He did not know if he would ever see Legolas again. He did not know if he would ever have the opportunity to apologize. By the Valar, he missed him.