Reluctantly, Aragorn and Gimli allowed Legolas to handle the elves himself, and instead stood close by the far western wall. Alandor had since backed away from the confrontation, allowing Nimras and Tauron to attack the unaided prince. He himself returned to the side of Thranduil and Kyno, who stood near to the king. Kyno whispered something to the woodland king, but Legolas had not the chance to strain his ears to listen. Nimras struck out with his sword and Legolas barely had time enough to parry the blow. At that moment, Tauron struck out with his own sword and the metal bit deeply into Legolas' left arm. The prince could not hold back the sudden cry that erupted in his throat.
At the wall, Gimli's fists tightened into iron, forcing himself with all his will power to stay put. How he wished to take up his axe and punish the one who had so savagely wounded Legolas! Next to him, Aragorn fought a similar internal battle of wills, though he showed nothing outwardly.
Blood flowed from the slice on Legolas' arm, soaking the sleeve of his tunic. The light green material became stained with a sickening crimson. Legolas continued to fight off the assault on both sides, striking out to parry a blow first from one side, then the other. He managed to wound Nimras, but not before the elf had dealt him a blow that smote Legolas in the middle of his lower back, though the blade did not bite too deeply. Legolas set his jaw and though he had stumbled at the impact, he stood straight once more, glaring at the brothers, daring them to strike again.
Tauron rushed at the prince, his sword before him and struck hard at Legolas' own weapon. The savagery of the blow shook Legolas' arm violently and his grip was loosened. The elvish blade clattered to the ground and Tauron kicked it from Legolas' reach. But the prince still had his hunting dagger and drew it desperately from its sheath. Death was in the eyes of the two prison guards as they advanced upon the son of Thranduil. Side by side they came ever nearer, forcing Legolas back towards the southern wall, his sword laying helplessly on the floor behind them.
Backing away from the points of the enemy swords, Legolas chanced to look towards his father. His eyes flickered over the shoulders of Nimras and Tauron towards the throne. Kyno and Alandor he could clearly see, but the king's throne was empty. Thranduil was nowhere in sight. Fear gripped its icy fingers around Legolas' heart, but at the moment, he could not risk scanning the room for his father.
Tauron struck out once more with his sword. The blade caught Legolas in the left shoulder just as he reached up to block the blow. He was too late. The sword came to rest in his flesh. But for as late as the block had come, Legolas managed to prevent a good deal of damage, staying the blade from slicing through the sinews that held his arm to his torso. He could still use his left arm to fight, though the pain was like a fire set in his flesh.
As he had attempted to stay the sword, Legolas struck out with his hunting knife with lightning speed. The knife sliced neatly across Tauron's stomach, though Legolas had deliberately checked his strength. He did not wish to kill the elf and so made sure that the blade did not pierce his bowels. True, the situation facing Legolas was grim, but the young prince could not bring himself to slay one of his own kind, justified as the kill would have been. If he could wound them enough to disarm the elves without killing them, he would do so.
At the feel of Legolas' knife upon his flesh, Tauron involuntarily wavered, giving Legolas the opportunity he needed, and not too soon, for the prince was fast approaching the southern wall. Mustering all of his strength, Legolas charged forward, throwing his full weight into Tauron, knocking the guard to the ground. Nimras was momentarily thrown off by this sudden change in battle fortunes, giving Legolas enough time to close most of the distance between himself and his sword. A sudden thought came to mind that perhaps if he could get to Kyno, he could use the elf's life as a bargaining chip to order back the others long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
Legolas' plans were cut short by an unexpected pain in his right calf, felling him as he ran towards his sword. He hit the stone floor hard, just feet from where his unattended blade lay. He reached back, gingerly feeling for the source of the nearly blinding pain, and winced when his fingers hit upon the cold steel of a knife that had been embedded into his muscle. Gritting his teeth, he grasped the knife's handle and pulled it free from his leg. Without the knife to block the wound, the prince's blood rushed forth. Tears sprung into the very corners of his eyes at the overwhelming pain but he forced himself to stand, grabbing up his sword in the same motion.
Now Tauron had also regained his footing and he leapt towards Legolas, his sword ready to plunge into the elf's heart. Upon Legolas' right side, Nimras took the same stance, sandwiching the prince between them. If Legolas was to turn to face one of the guards, the other would be behind him and deal the killing blow. Legolas knew this and did the only thing that he could do. As the two elves rushed him, swords before them, Legolas threw himself to the floor. Above him, neither sword was denied a bloody meal as the blades of the brothers impaled one another.
Now Legolas stood once more, shakily though his stance was. The pain in his leg was great. He found that he was close to Aragorn and Gimli, though they stood some way ahead. Raising his sword, he pointed it to the two figures on the dais where the king's throne sat.
"Your plan has failed, Kyno," he said.
"Has it now?" came the mocking reply. "Come then, strike me dead! You have already killed my sons!"
"Do not try and weaken me with undeserved guilt," snorted Legolas. "Fight me like a true warrior. Send not your minions to do your dirty work."
"The only dirty work I have seen this day is yours," came a new voice.
From behind Kyno, Thranduil stepped forward. In his hands were a ceremonial bow and two arrows. Legolas recognized them as having hung on the walls of the throne room.
Now Thranduil notched one of the green feathered shafts and pulled the bow string back to his cheek. He checked his aim.
"Die now, my traitorous son," he said coldly.
Before Legolas' mind could register what was happening, the arrow took fight, speeding towards him. But before he had the chance to move or think, a figure rushed before Legolas, taking the dart for him. Legolas looked down. There lay Aragorn, the arrow embedded within his chest, laying in a steadily growing pool of blood.