Infinite thanks to all who reviewed! I was wondering if I was going to get flames for killing of Legolas.

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A body lay in a bonfire, clothes burning despite being soaked in blood, then flesh, finally, the bare bones charring and blackening.

"NO!" Gimli awoke bathed in a cold sweat. Sweet Aule! He had been having these nightmares since the death of Aragorn and Legolas. Sometimes it was of Aragorn, his body crushed and slipping into the icy water. Sometimes (and more often) it was Legolas, streaming bright elven blood or burning to an unrecognizable crisp.

Gimli was almost afraid to sleep for fear that he would see one of his friends. So many had been lost- first Gandalf, then Boromir, then Merry and Pippin, then Gandalf returned, and Merry and Pippin recovered, but now he had lost Aragorn and Legolas. It was a Fellowship of six.

Knowing that he couldn't rest, Gimli decided to take a walk. His feet led him out of the palace, and into the garden. He collapsed on one of the stone benches, and stared up at the stars his friends had so loved. Gimli had always wondered what elves found so fascinating about stars. But now he understood. Or at least, he thought he did. Stars were always the same. Through death, despair, and torture, the stars would always be there, shining.

And as he sat there, Gimli dozed off again.

This time, it was both of them. Aragorn and Legolas, circling the dwarf, screaming of betrayal. Legolas' body was whole, as was Aragorn's, but both of them were bathed in an unearthly green light. Their eyes were sunken, and their cheeks hollow. Their whole faces were complete caricatures of the real elf and ranger. Again and again they berated him, accusing Gimli of cowardice, of failure, of downright treachery. In his dream, Gimli fell to his knees, pleading. "Leave me be! I did nothing! I did nothing!"

The dwarf fell from the bench and awoke when he hit the cold, hard ground. "I did nothing!" he whispered. Then what he was saying hit him. He had done nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had done nothing while his friends were dragged over cliffs, beheaded, slaughtered, butchered. Gimli's mind raced over what he could have done.

He could have killed the warg before it dragged Aragorn over. He could have freed the man's hand from the warg rider's saddle. He could have caught him before he went over.

He could have been there to help Legolas fight off the orcs. He could have pushed him out of the way of the orc's final stroke. He could have given the elf the opportunity to be somewhere else.

Gimli's rational side told him that Aragorn and Legolas would not want him acting like this. That his real friends (as opposed to the demons haunting his dreams) would have understood, would have forgiven him. But his heart screamed that it was all his fault, that he was responsible, that he had murdered the two people closest to him. That the least he could have done would have been to be there, with them, in their final minutes. Although, some morbid part of him said, there hadn't exactly been any final minutes for either of them. It had been quick, but as for painless, he knew naught.

Gimli decided to think about what his friends would be doing right now. Aragorn would probably be sleeping haphazardly on a bed, the coverlet halfway across the room. No, scratch that, Aragorn would probably be sleeping under the bed. As the ranger himself put it, "Rangers are not accustomed to houses of stone." Gimli almost smiled. What a joke, especially from someone raised in Rivendell. Or maybe Aragorn would be sitting on his windowsill fingering the Evenstar and dreaming of his beloved.

Legolas would probably be out here in this very garden, perhaps on the very bench Gimli was sitting on. He would be singing to the stars, or conversing with the trees (a characteristic that annoyed Gimli to no extent) or plotting new ways to force Aragorn to take a bath. Or perhaps Legolas would be writing in that infernal book he always carried. Gimli had once asked to see it,, and the elf had complied, laughing. Gimli saw why he was laughing when he examined the journal- it was all written in elvish. "The Grey Tongue?" he had asked. Legolas shook his head. "No, the High Tongue." Gimli was astounded. "But you told me it was no longer spoken!" "It isn't," Legolas had replied. "But it is still used for ceremony, and as a young elf, my father gave me some basic lessons in it. From then on, I was captivated. I use the High Tongue every chance I get, including in my journal. Don't bother asking Aragorn to translate, he isn't fluent." And with that, Legolas had gone back to writing.

Gimli gave a start. The book, it must have burned with him. Maybe he should have taken it, to return to Legolas' father? Or maybe it was better to let the archer's secrets die with him.

No, Gimli decided, thinking like this wouldn't help the situation, not like anything actually could right now. The dwarf decided to switch tactics, deciding instead to focus on what his friends might say to him if they knew of his deeds, of his dreams, of his guilt.

Aragorn would look at him strangely and tell him that he wasn't acting normal. Aragorn would tell him to cheer up, that none of this was his fault, that he must be strong enough for the three of them. He would also thank Gimli for the return of the Evenstar.

Legolas would laugh. He would tell Gimli that he was acting too much like an elf for his own good. That it is the fate of the elves, and the elves alone, to grieve like this. Gimli sighed. If only they knew. If only they knew the torment that he was going through, while they were packed safely off in some afterlife or another. Gimli wasn't sure, no one had ever told him of what the elvish or human afterlives were like.

There was nothing left for Gimli in the garden, so he returned to his chamber, to start a new nightmare, and after that, another terrible, anguishing day.

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Hahaha! I love character torture!

Cheysuli: Wait and see!

Neko-Megami-Chan: Hey, someone else who adds 'chan' to the end of their name! I always have, Casey-chan helps people distinguish me from our resident Casey-san at my self-defense class. Well written? No one ever told me that before!

Starlit Hope: Yep, Leggy returns! Not to mention Leggy scares everyone else out of their wits!