AN: This may seem a little backwards. But you would have read the first part differently if you had read this first (if you see what I mean). Trust me. I've muddled Film and Book a little, just because I like some things from one better and some things from the other. And we will get to that L/E/E eventually.

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Legolas heard Gimli take a tumble for a second time behind him and hesitated, calling Aragorn to a halt as well. The dwarf harrumphed himself back to his feet and glared at the other two as if daring them to accuse him of weakness.

"Aragorn, we cannot keep running forever," Legolas said, ignoring the dwarf's glare, "else we shall come across the orcs tired and weak."

"If we continue now, we shall catch them before night falls; before they enter Fangorn forest. If we rest they may be well into the forest and hidden from us by the morrow." Conceding the point, and knowing that they would have to catch up quickly if they wished to save the two hobbits that the orcs had taken from them, the three moved on again.

So it is that, with one decision, a splitting in the passage of time occurred and all that passes hereafter is only one of many paths through the webs that time weaves.

-
They came across the orc troupe - as Aragorn had predicted - before dusk began to break over the horizon on the borders of Fangorn. Watching them from the top of a rise, the three saw Merry and Pippin thrown to the ground and took the chance offered to them as the orcs were distracted. The outer ranks fell to Legolas' bow as Aragorn and Gimli charged into the melee with sword and axe at the ready. There were thirty of the dark beings against one each of the three first races of Middle Earth. The odds were not in the heros' favour. Still they fought valiantly.

Finding the hobbits amidst the chaos, Aragorn stood over them as they worked to free their bindings and defended them from the wrath of the orcs and uruk-hai. Approached from behind and busy with other foes, Gimli was knocked to the floor with a cry, even as his attacker was felled by the elf's knife. With no time to check on the dwarf, Legolas fought on even more strongly, fearing for his friend and wanting the fighting over as quickly as possible so that he could determine how he fared.

Three uruks surrounded the man as he stood over the hobbits, forcing him to move away from the two small forms so that he could manoeuvre without risking stepping on them. Seeing that the orcs were trying to separate him from them and once again divide the fellowship, Aragorn called out to them.

"Merry, Pippin! Into the trees! Take shelter! We will find you again." Hearing his command, the hobbits ran as only hobbits can, with speed that might seem uncanny to a human eye. They were soon lost in the darkness of the trees, and so nobody saw as one orc sneaked after them in silence, hoping to have those two tasty treats all to him self.

-

The outcasts of Rohan arrived only moments later, alerted to the fighting by the noises carried across the plains and racing to their aid. With their arrival the remaining orcs scattered, knowing they had no chance fighting against so many. Without the element of surprise the horsemen were only able to take down a few more before they were all out of range of their spears and they turned to find out what army had managed to kill so many orcs in their lands.

Aragorn was knelt at Gimli's side even as aid arrived, knowing that they would be kept safe for a time. He was relieved to find the dwarf already struggling to rise - a dwarvish curse on his lips and a line of blood trickling down his forehead.

"Aragorn?" He called out as the man approached.

"I am here Gimli." He answered, moving to tend his headwound.

"Elf?" There was an expectant pause, followed by a worried one. No one had expected Legolas not to answer. Aragorn turned and stood to look about the battle field. Save for the horsemen, clustered at one end of the field, no one else stood.

"Legolas answer." Aragorn demanded.

"Come on, elf, this is no time for tricks." Gimli growled, getting to his feet with his axe at the ready. Moving across the field, Aragorn searched amongst the orc bodies for his friend, hoping desperately to find him trapped beneath another foe. There was no sign of him.

"He has been taken." Gimli confirmed, tone grim.

"Perhaps he has been drawn into the forest after the hobbits. We must seek him there." Aragorn insisted, though his face showed what little hope he had.

"Let us hope to find the hobbits safe, and pray we come across our elf, simply wandered into the trees." Gimli spoke, looking into the woodland with a shadowed heart.

-

So it came about that only the man and the dwarf stood before the white wizard in the woods of Fangorn and, though gladdened to know that the hobbits were safe, Gandalf had only confirmed their fears regarding Legolas' fate.

"You cannot go after him, you know that, do you not?" Gandalf's expression was sad.

"I had suspected as much." Aragorn had said, feeling his heart grow heavy. "No doubt Barad-dûr has him now and we have not the force to rescue him from there. I fear no one does."

"I'm sorry, my friends, but I'm afraid Legolas is lost to us. But we have much to do." He continued in his brusque way. "We must ride for Edoras. That is where our path now lies."

-

Gimli was confused. Though Aragorn had taken the elf's loss with difficulty, it had not seemed to affect him so badly before as it did now, with his friends the Rangers of the North that had joined the armed forces of the Rohirrim at Helm's Deep. Now that they were safe within the fortress walls he seemed agitated, pacing up and down the halls and not settling anywhere. Only moments before he had called his two elven friends to his side and taken them into a room just off the main hall where all of the troops sat eating the midday meal, declaring that they were not to be disturbed.

"Well, that is strange." Gimli told the ranger beside him conversationally as they sat eating the meagre fare they had been given as they prepared for battle. "You say that the elven twins are friends with Aragorn?"

"Yes, they are like brothers to him." The ranger replied. "He was fostered in their house."

"Why then, has he just come out of conference with them sporting a bruise and a cracked lip?"

"You must be mistaken." The ranger frowned; a personal friend of all three, he had never seen them fight.

"Look for yourself." As the ranger sought the future king in the crowds of the mess hall, the dwarf looked for the twins. He spotted them coming out of the room the three had just held their discussion in, not far from where he was sitting. As soon as he got a good look at the elven twins Gimli wondered at their loss, for their faces showed signs of great grief. Red tear-tracks ran down both faces as they supported each other across the hall towards the private rooms. Both mouths were set in grim lines, thoughts turned inwards and contemplative. The crowds rushed to get out of their way, seeing the murder simmering in those eyes. Whom ever had wronged them was in severe danger, and Gimli found himself hoping it wasn't Aragorn; for they would all need the Ranger before the battle was done, and Helm's Deep was no place to lose him to his brothers' wrath before any real fighting had begun.

-

The Battle of Pelennor Fields, as it would later be known in song, was won. The grave-less knights that had fought along side the future king had been released from their blood-oaths to go to peace. Taking heart in a moment's peace of his own, Aragorn: Heir of Isildur stopped to consider the cost. The strength of a Kingdom not yet his own to rule lay scattered on the ground at his feet, friends lying dead amongst foes. Minas Tirith was near in ruin, its gates in pieces in the courtyard, rubble scattering the roads and thoroughfares. And the fellowship, what of that? Boromir fallen, Legolas taken, Pippin searching the fields of the dead hopelessly for Merry. Frodo and Sam - whom his heart would have him believe still fought onwards to Mount Doom - far from anyone's aid. Gimli still counting his kills - to tell that damn stupid elf what he missed when he returns - without that vital spark in his motions. Gandalf with weary, weary eyes. Maybe this long time on Middle Earth had grown too much even for him.

Glancing behind him he found the twins sat back to back - a strangely surreal mirror image - as they too gathered strength for what lay ahead. In the first days after telling Legolas' lovers what had become of him he had feared that they would both fade away in grief, but as the battle of Helm's Deep had begun they had reappeared as a deadly combined force, destroying everything that had come between them and victory. Even Aragorn had never seen them fight so ruthlessly; though he remembered tales he had listened to in disbelief, of the years after Lord Elrond's wife's attack and subsequent passing when his brothers had been nothing but an orc-killing machine. Without need for food, water or rest they had torn the countryside apart in vengeance.

Still Aragorn had been glad of their restraint, for he had half-expected them to make their own way to Mordor and challenge the host there for the immediate return of Legolas. From that battle he knew they could not return. Now they were headed to the very Gates of Mordor, and Aragorn could only hope that they would not try to make this battle their own.

-

Elrohir scanned the faces lined up in front of him. The orcs made up the first ranks, herded before their successors, the Uruk-Hai. The orcs were nothing but debris to get in the way of the swords aimed at the more hardy warriors. To slow and tire the humans before the Uruk-Hai came in for the kill. He was bitterly aware of the origins of the orcs, the bastardisation of elven kind carried out by Melkor many millenia before his birth. He wondered absently what Legolas was undergoing, if he still lived, deep within the walls of the black tower. He shared a glance with his brother, and fought with the tears that threatened in his eyes. This was not the time. He knew there was no way that they would be able to rescue the elf from the dark forces; for once the ring was destroyed and Sauron along with it they had no way of knowing what would happen to all those who resided within the dark gates. He fought to convince himself that Legolas was dead and there was nothing now that he could do for him but destroy as many of these foul abominations as he could to gain vengeance.

There was a pause as the two armies studied each other, both aware of where the better odds lay. Feeling the doubts of his men, Aragorn turned to give a speech of hope and victory. The twins exchanged a smile, their little brother had grown to a great man in only a handful of years, and they cheered as loudly as all of the men as he finished. He would need their strength in this battle, for all here knew that many would die today and the number depended on two half-sized heroes walking across a hopeless plane towards a deadly mountain, surrounded by foes.

"Stay with Aragorn." Elladan muttered to him as the future King returned to his post and dismounted, allowing his horse a chance to escape.

"Watch Mithrandir." Elrohir replied with a smile.

"Good Luck, and Elbereth be with you, though no light may shine through this night-fallen place."

"And you, my brother. We shall see him again in the end." Elladan did not have to ask whom it was that he meant. Then the charge began, and there was no more time for words.

-

Elladan saw the troll approaching his brother and Aragorn and, making sure that Mithrandir could hold his own for a little longer, he raced across the field towards them, sweeping everyone else out of his way. The troll had Aragorn on the floor, a great foot hovering over his chest as the twins grabbed an arm each and bore it to the floor with their swords in its chest. The twins scattered again, Elladan returning to the wizard's side and Elrohir rounding on those orcs who had got a little close with the distraction. One orc deflected his blow with the long metal swords that their race favoured and moved onwards, obviously targeting Aragorn as he fought with the huge number of orcs that were still swamping the men. Swinging again, Elrohir's sword was swept aside and he found himself face to face with...

"Legolas?" The orc's weapon swung down on him and, with limp sword hand, Elrohir waited for the blow. He could not move to strike his love, for his heart recognised him though his appearance was changed terribly. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.