A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind words. U have touched me, and I thank you. I take all of it to heart, and I do not resent those who ' flame ' . I appreciate the honesty. Here is angst and fluff and sorry if I suck like hell.

Part 39

When Eomer and Theoden finally reached the battlefield in front of Mordor, it was quiet, all except the sound of the rain. Evening had fallen and it seemed that darkness and ash had swallowed all light. The only remnants of Uruk Hai were the corpses of those slain, but the Elves still lingered, not leaving without being led away by their master.

Eomer panted as he searched the premises with his dark eyes, looking for his friend Lord Aragorn,who had left them at Isengard as soon as the Orcs had surrendered. Gimli caught up behind the two men of Rohan, also out of breath from running. He needed to find his crazy Elf friend.

Some Elves were gathered quietly ahead of the three. Eomer approached one, asking if he had seen Aragorn or Legolas.The Elf only stared at him with two weary brown eyes, before stepping aside.

And trudging toward Eomer, was the sullen form of Aragorn, drenched in rain. He had his head bowed, his wild hair clinging to his face, hanging around it dripping. He carried a body in his arms, and Eomer's face fell as he saw a lock of blonde hair hanging over the man's arm.

Eomer said nothing as Aragorn brushed past him. He could think of nothing to say. He hardly even believed it. Could it really be....could Legolas really be...dead?

As the ranger walked past Theoden and Gimli, he remained silent and did not even give them a glance. Theoden bowed his head in respect and sympathy, but Gimli stared at the passing ranger in disbelief. It couldn't be true. Legolas couldn't be dead.

Aragorn made his way past the on looking army of Elves, staring straight ahead as the storm kept on. He felt so empty, so worthless and useless. A failure. He had not been there to protect him. He had not been there to save him. And his bitter tears stung his vision even in the rain.

But he had also failed to notice that the lifeless body of the Elf still bled, though the downpour of rain washed it away nearly as quickly as it seeped through his clothes.

Aragorn stopped for a moment. He stood upon a cliff overlooking the plains between Rohan and Mordor, the wind running through his tangled hair and the rain slipping down his face and neck.He clung to that body and he refused to let it go.

Eomer quietly came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder offering comfort.

" I do not want your pity, Eomer. Please, just leave me alone", Aragorn said to him, his voice laced with bitter sorrow.The ranger turned around and left, mounting Hasufel and riding off, still carrying the bundle. Eomer stared after him with confused, pained eyes, not much different to Legolas' when Boromir had passed away.

" But Aragorn, he's not dead. There's still hope ", came the almost gleeful voice of Gimli.

" Don't you understand, Gimli? He's an inch from death. There is no hope. They will only have you believe that when truly all is lost ", Aragorn argued.

" How can you have lost all your faith so quickly?"

" How can you be so blind? Did you not seem him? He is dead, Gimli. Come out of your denial."

" I am not in denial, Aragorn. I believe in my friend. He'll make it through,whether you think he will or not."

" Don't you think I want to believe that he'll make it through the night, Gimli? Of course I do. I have never prayed to the Valar more deeply for anything, but I cannot cling to false hope. I cannot put faith in a dream that will not come true."

" You are his best friend, Aragorn. He always told us not to lose faith, not to lose hope, to never stop believing in our dreams. If you still are his best friend then listen to him. Do not lose faith in him."

Gimli left with those words, and Aragorn was alone in his doubt. He quietly slid into the room they had placed the Elf in. As soon as Aragorn had reached Helm's Deep, they had taken the body from his arms and tended to it quickly. He was not quite dead, but he was hanging on such a thin line, it was as if it was destined to happen.

Aragorn sat at his bedside, leaning over with his elbows on his knees. Legolas lay still before him, his silvery blonde tresses laid out neatly upon the pillow, his eyes closed, his arms set at his sides and the blanket tucked beneath them but still covering his chest. He was so pale and the way he was laid out, it was if he really was dead. But if you looked closely, his chest rose and fell barely.

Aragorn folded his hands as he stared at the Elf, tears clouding his gray eyes. He wanted to have the faith Gimli had.He wanted to believe Legolas had a chance. But it seemed so impossible. He had been there, he had held him at the gates of Mordor and carried him upon Hasufel to Helm's Deep.

Tears streaked his face, and the livid Elf remained still as something beautiful because it brought sorrow to the heart of Man.

Eomer once again laid his hand on the ranger's shoulder, and both were quiet as they gazed upon the face of the Elf.

" Have faith in him, Aragorn."

" I cannot see hope, Eomer."

" Do you love him?"

" I do."

" Then that is your hope."

Eomer left him with those words, and Aragorn continued to weep. He slipped his hand in Legolas' cold,slender one. And he clasped it. He held onto it desperately and whispered.

" Do not leave me, Legolas. You are my hope, my faith, and my strength. I cannot do this without you. You must fight. Do you hear me? Fight, Legolas. Breathe. Live."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke and stared in prayer at the face of his best friend, his brother.

" Hear me, Legolas. Fight for me. Breathe for me. Do not lose sight of the light. Do not forget that I love you."

The storm persisted outside the window, just as Aragorn's tears would not cease to fall.

" Legolas, you must live. Do not give up. Not now. Not while I still draw breath. I need you, Legolas. I love you. I love you, my brother."

Aragorn lifted his eyes to the ceiling as the tears fell from the corners of them.He grasped the Elf's hand as his lips moved in some silent prayer, some silent plea.

" And I am not ready to bid you farewell."

Oh, by the Valar, he was sorry. He could not lose him. Not now. He could not lose him. He needed him. He loved him.

Aragorn collapsed on the Elf's chest, his head laid over Legolas' heart. And he sobbed, still holding his best friend's hand.

" Do not take him from me ", he whispered. " Do not take my brother."