Crushed and Slashed
By Gwenneth

Disclaimers: They are not mine. This is movie-verse AU. I am making no money from this writing.

Summary: Part of the "What-If?" Series. What if that troll stepped a little harder on Aragorn during the battle before the Black Gates of Mordor? Would it have changed the outcome if the man couldn't rise so quickly? What if something happened to Legolas while he tried to reach the soon-to-be King, he was rather preoccupied...

Rating: PG

SPOILERS: RETURN OF THE KING....MAJOR SPOILERS....

A/N: I'm not sure that the creature stepping on Aragorn in the movie was a troll...but that is what it is in this story. So, please don't be mad if I'm wrong! Please enjoy and I promise I will try not to ALWAYS make Legolas my main injury!!! I attempted Aragorn injury...didn't I???

Legolas smiled lightly as Aragorn gave a rousing speech fit for the King he would soon become if he survived this battle. The Elf stole a glance at the man, now decked out in the garb of a Gondorian soldier, no longer wearing the worn, rugged clothing of a Ranger. A small smile spread across Legolas' face as he stood beside Gimli.

I remember him when he was but a small child, the Elf thought to himself. How very much he has changed over the years. He has truly become the King we always knew he would be, no matter how much he tried to deny that path and that future. If only his parents could see him now.

Gimli suddenly piped up beside the Elf. "I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," the Dwarf grunted lightly, leaning on his axe as they waited for the inevitable battle to begin.

Legolas looked down, smiling. "What about side by side with a friend, Gimli?"

A smile broke out on the Dwarf's face now. "Aye, I could do that," he answered, looking up into Legolas' shining eyes. Wordless emotions traveled between the two who had forged the unlikeliest of friendships in the heat of many a battle. Now, they stood awaiting the start of yet another. And one that had potential to end this beautiful friendship before it had a chance to realize its full potential.

Aragorn was suddenly in front of them. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. Legolas and Gimli returned the gesture. "You sounded like a true King, Aragorn," Gimli commented, looking past the man toward the slowly opening Black Gates, his breath catching in his throat at the sight slowly being revealed to him.

"I agree, mellon nin, your words were the words of a King and long have I waited to hear such words from you." Legolas smiled at the pride in Aragorn's eyes. "You would have made them proud."

The soon-to-be King nodded, returning his gaze to the gates. Mother and Father, I know you are watching over me. Know that I will bring peace to this Middle-Earth, no matter what it takes. I will honor our line and restore faith in our lineage. I will do it for you and for all my friends.

Then, Aragorn heard a voice in his head. "Elessar...Elessar."

He looked up, taking a step forward, his mind focused on only the voice. Legolas moved to draw him back, but a look from Gandalf halted him. The wizard's eyes spoke volumes. He must do this on his own.

Aragorn suddenly turned back toward them all, determination in his features and no sign of the previous confusion. "For Frodo."

And he charged forward; sword raised.

Merry and Pippin raised their short swords and with cries of "The Shire" they plowed off after Aragorn, immediately followed by Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan. The Hobbits were quickly overtaken by their long-legged companions, but they ran like the wind none-the-less and were quickly engaged with the enemy.

Legolas whipped off arrows as he ran, dropping his foes before anyone reached them. A few soldiers running beside the fleet-footed Elf glanced at him as he moved with a speed beyond their ability and comprehension. Then, they were among the foul creatures of Mordor, slashing and stabbing with sword and knife.

Gimli, hefting his mighty axe, roared a Dwarven battle cry and hacked at his opponents. Gandalf swung his staff and his sword, mowing down Orcs and Uruk-hai with seemingly effortless ease. And Aragorn was the picture of Gondorian might, his armor shining in the midst of a sea of black.

Anduril, Flame of the West, flashed and parried, slashed and stabbed, taking down many an Orc in its path. It was only halted when Aragorn was taken to the ground and pinned beneath the large foot of a troll. The creature grinned; a toothy smile, leaning forward heavily.

The breath was stolen from Aragorn and his hand went limp, Anduril slipping from his grip. He could vaguely hear the cries of Legolas as the Elf attempted to reach him, but there was an odd buzzing sound in his head as the air was forced from his body. The creature weighed enough to keep the man's diaphragm from moving and he was unable to draw much-needed oxygen.

Black spots danced before his eyes and he grabbed hold of the foot on his breast, heaving upward uselessly.

Crack.

Aragorn let out a weak shout of pain as agony flashed through his chest. His rib had cracked like a small twig under the foot of an Oliphaunt. The pressure increased. Crack. Another rib buckled under the pressure. The black spots crowded around the peripheral of his vision, leaving only a narrow tunnel through which he could still see.

Tears were falling from his eyes as he struggled to breathe, struggled to fight against the blossoming pain in his chest. It was no use. He would die here. He could not dislodge the creature. So this is it? This is where I fall. After all the battles I have found I will be crushed to death by a troll who strayed from his cave. Arwen, melleth nin, I am sorry to have failed you. Sorry to have left you to a fate of death, for if the shadow of Mordor is not halted here, you shall surely die.

Then the pressure was gone. Aragorn arched up and choked, precious oxygen flooding his labored lungs. His eyes watered as he sucked in the air, his chest heaving. He remained on the ground, his body fighting to remain conscious even though he now had air. His ribs still burned like fire and he felt a moistness on his chest.

Glancing down, he saw blood blossoming across his tunic. Perhaps more damage has been done than I thought, the man thought to himself. He looked up now, wondering why the troll had stopped before killing him. He found the creature's lifeless eyes staring at him from the ground beside him.

A green and gold fletched arrow was protruding from the troll's neck.

Legolas. I might have known. Aragorn smiled lightly. But he was quick to regret even that as more pain exploded in his chest. These cursed ribs, the man thought. Then a thought struck him. If I remain here, I will be cut down for sure. He gripped his chest and forced himself to stand. He was immediately assailed by Orcs and barely managed to parry their thrusts and slashes.

But it wasn't long before all attention was turned toward the Sauron's tower and his all-seeing Eye.

Aragorn watched in fascination as the eye quivered and squealed in seeming pain. Then, the tower began to crumble and slowly, ever so slowly, it disintegrated into nothing but a pile of rubble. In the background, they saw Mount Doom. And all gasped in horror when the mountain exploded in a fireball of magma.

"Frodo...Sam..." Aragorn whispered. "No..."

He sank to his knees in despair, not caring that the creatures of the fallen Dark Lord were running away in full retreat, not taking the opportunity to celebrate a hard-earned victory. His thoughts, and the thoughts of the Fellowship members, remained with Frodo and Sam, pondering their fate.

All but Legolas who was oblivious to the world around him.

Aragorn was trapped, lying helplessly beneath the great foot of a troll. The Elf was not close enough to reach the troll and he shouted his fury as he struggled to move closer, to do something to save his friend. But the undulating tide of Orcs and Uruk's made this impossible and he shouted again in fury when he saw a pained expression cross Aragorn's already bluing face.

He is dying. He is being crushed. I must go to him, I cannot let him die, I swore to myself I would not let him die. He pushed forward again, slashing angrily at any and all in his path, his knives glowing and singing in the midst of the enemy. But he knew that he would not reach the man in time. Not like this, not with this veritable sea between him and his target.

So he did all he could do. Un-slung his bow, put away his knives and notched an arrow. The arrow flew straight and true, even though its shooter was quickly taken down.

Pain ripped through Legolas' midsection and he doubled over, not even seeing if his arrow had hit its mark. A black, crude Orc scimitar was lodged fast in his stomach and the Elf's eyes widened at the sight. He was surprised there wasn't more pain. There was plenty of blood, gushing from the wound and spilling over the blade and his leggings.

Then, the blade was gone, ripped from his body, and Legolas cried out in pure agony as he dropped to his knees, still bent forward; his arms clutched his wound but were unable to hold span it's girth. Hot blood covered his hands, turning everything in its path a dark red. He trembled, his body wasting no time in going into shock.

Then, the pain grew and mounted until it was burning like a wildfire and he was whimpering in pain. A sound he had never made before. There were shouts of anger from his right, but the Elf couldn't quite make them out. He swayed, still kneeling, now in a puddle of blood.

"Legolas! Legolas, get up! Legolas!"

Gimli couldn't fathom why the Elf wasn't getting up. But he knew if the blasted Elf continued to kneel like that, an Orc would waste no time in taking his head off. So the Dwarf grunted and hefted his axe high. He began to rhythmically tear his way through the enemy, leaving destruction in his wake.

He was momentarily distracted by the squeals of the Eye, mesmerized by the fall of the tower. So much so that he missed Legolas' pitch forward as the Elf lost his grip on consciousness and toppled to the ground.

Regaining his senses, Aragorn glanced around. "You there, see that the wounded are rounded up and taken care of. Gather whatever help you need." He sighed, watching the young soldier go off and obey.

"Legolas? Oh where is that confounded Elf? He usually sticks out with that golden hair of his."

Gimli. Aragorn turned and found the Dwarf muttering under his breath. "Gimli? When did you last see Legolas?" he asked quietly, looking around him.

"I saw him just before our enemy's demise. He was kneeling of all things and I tried to reach him."

Kneeling! What on Earth? Aragorn's worry grew. Then blossomed.

"My Lord! My Lord Aragorn! Come quickly!"

It was Eomer. And he was crouched down.

Aragorn broke into a run, his mind reeling. He knew before he arrived just what he would find there. Elves rarely closed their eyes; very rarely, and to see Legolas' eyes closed was hard enough. But to see the veritable sea of blood surrounding him was even worse.

"Mellon nin!" He cried, falling to his knees beside the wounded Elf. Gimli was on his heels and to his great surprise the Dwarf let out the loudest, most painful wail of despair that Aragorn had ever heard. The cry roused even Legolas who suddenly jerked and tried to curl in on himself. Eomer and Aragorn stopped him.

"Legolas, mellon nin, sidh!" He gently brushed hair from his friend's forehead.

Legolas' eyes snapped open and locked on Aragorn. The blue orbs were full of pain and confusion. He saw tears in all their eyes and wondered what the cause of them was. "Why do you cry?"

Aragorn swiped at his tears and smiled. "You are hurt, mellon nin. It pains me when you are injured for I loathe to see it."

Legolas nodded lightly. He was in pain, yes, but it wasn't great. He was just extremely tired. Surely he was going to be fine. He tried to sit up, but stabs of pain stopped him and he decided breathlessly to remain where he was. Soon, the stretchers arrived to take him away. Aragorn remained by his side as he was carried from the field.

"Stop fussing, Elladan, I look just fine!"

Aragorn swatted his brother's hands from his robes. "I never thought I would see the day when you cleaned up so well, gwador nin."

The man glared at the Elf and then smiled. "Yes, well, even I am capable of doing so on occasion. And this is definitely an occasion for which I need be clean."

He was mere minutes away from his coronation as King of Gondor. All the Elven realms had sent envoys and he was bubbling with both excitement and anxiety. Only one thing put a damper on his mood. Legolas. Mellon nin, how I miss your steadfast assurances now. The Elf had not stirred since he had lost consciousness in the Healing Ward.

Aragorn, being the most skilled Healer in Gondor, had tended his wound himself, but the outcome was still uncertain and rather dire. Much blood had been lost and damage done to muscle. Legolas' breathing had remained labored and his heartbeat erratic. If Aragorn had been giving a prognosis on anyone else, he would have said they would not last the night. But he could not bring himself to make a predication in this case.

Instead, he distanced himself from the Elf and tried to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut. If the Healer's came to him and said it was time to say goodbye, he would return. But it pained him far too greatly to sit by and watch Legolas fade.

"Come...it is time."

Elladan and Elrohir hurried out of the palace to join the Rivendell envoy. Inwardly, Aragorn wondered who would head the Elvish delegation. It would have been Legolas...

Stop it. You must not show weakness. It is not what your people need to see right now.

He closed the door behind him.

The crown weighed heavily on his brow, but it wasn't an unpleasant heaviness. He had always known he would be here, though he had vehemently opposed it most of his life. The Ring of Barahir rested in its rightful place upon his hand and he gazed out over the crowds. He knew he had to speak and he did, the words flowing from his heart.

Then he sang and the people smiled. How good it felt to bring job and peace to these people who had suffered for so long. He slowly walked amongst the throngs, making his way past Eomer, the new King of Rohan; Faramir and his new wife Eowyn, on his way to greet the Elves. Sorrow panged in his aching chest.

He fidgeted against the pain. The armor he wore was chaffing his wounds, but he stoically ignored it. There they were...approaching slowly and with all the grace of the Elves. Well, most of them anyway.

A figure in the foreground was not moving with the normal grace of an Elf, the figure was swaying lightly, but approaching nonetheless. Blonde hair reflected the sunlight and a silver tunic fit nicely to the slim body. The slim, slightly hunched and trembling body.

Aragorn's eyes widened, taking in the silver circlet upon the Elf's brow. "Legolas..." he breathed as he quickened his step and closed the distance between himself and the Elf. I must be dreaming. I left him on his deathbed.

But there was no mistaking it. At the head of the Elven delegation was a slow moving, solemn faced, Legolas. The circlet on his head announced his status as crown prince of the newly named Eryn Lasgalen. He had the bearing of a royal, but his expression was tight, no doubt so solemn because he was struggling to hide his pain.

And a struggle it was. Legolas, for his part, wasn't sure how in the world he was doing it. Unbeknownst to Aragorn, Elrond had come to him in the Houses of Healing and after much arguing, had agreed to help the wounded Elf in his plan. Legolas would not miss Aragorn's coronation for anything in the world, not even his own death.

He had gotten the Elf Lord to help him sneak out of the palace and join the Elves. Elladan and Elrohir had hovered over him, but he had pushed them off, fully determined to walk on his own. The wound pained him greatly, but he found that moving slowly and not bouncing up and down, but gliding down the walkway had minimized the pain.

But he was unable to smile or look any way for fear he would not be able to keep up his facade of being un-pained.

Aragorn reached him and stood there. For a moment, he did nothing, but then the King put a hand on Legolas' shoulder and the Elf quickly reciprocated. Now a smile came to his face, and a sweet smile it was. This was worth it...to see Aragorn like this made all the pain the walk had caused completely worth it.

Legolas being there, leading the Elves meant more to Aragorn than he had words to convey. So he only said two. "Hannon le."

The Elf Prince nodded lightly, not trusting himself to speak right now. Instead, he meekly turned his head and gestured behind him. Aragorn looked past the Elf and saw Elrond, tears glistening in his eyes. The Elf Lord had a double meaning to the tears...not only was he about to lose his only daughter, but the look in his foster son's face when he saw Legolas up and walking was priceless and had added to the tears.

Aragorn then focused on the banner. A tree adorned a fluttering pennant. The bearer moved aside the banner and Aragorn's eyes widened and he almost let go of Legolas. Arwen. How...I...

Now he did let go of the Prince and Legolas faded back a little as Aragorn moved to Arwen and lifted her chin, quickly enveloping her in a fervent kiss. There were cheers and he lifted his love and swung her around like a little boy. Then, setting her down, he moved off toward the center of the court yard where the Hobbits stood.

Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin went to bow, but Aragorn halted them, "You bow to no one," he said quietly as he took to one knee, immediately followed by all present.

A blonde Elf helped Legolas to lower himself to the ground; the Prince looked up and gasped. "Adar!?"

Thranduil clutched his son's shaking arm. "Legolas..."

The Prince closed his eyes, a small smile crossing his face. "A perfect ending Ada. A perfect ending."

Everyone slowly stood, roars of sheer joy echoing for miles around. In the midst of it all, a tall blonde Elf helped another blonde Elf to his feet, pulling the younger being's arm over his shoulder. Thranduil gently wrapped his arm around Legolas' waist and the two made their way slowly through the crowd, a path opening up before them as Aragorn's people looked at them in awe.

Soon, they were abreast of Aragorn and Arwen, Elrond and the twins, Frodo and the Hobbits, Gandalf and Gimli. "A perfect ending..." Legolas whispered, a small smile gracing his face.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye, indeed it is."

THE END