If you know the song by Matthew West called "You know where to find me" think of it when you read this chapter. Better yet, even listen to it if you can! Fanficiton dot net has made lyrics illegal. And if you don't know the lyrics, look them up, because they are worth it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I Saw Your Sky Fall

Legolas looked at the dull city rising up before him. Ah, he had seen this place before, when he was first brought here actually. Well, considering his last visit to this city went particularly horrible to say the very least, Legolas didn't suppose that this visit was going to be any better.

Taking in everything in a single and scrupulous glance, the prince felt his throat constrict when he saw the scaffold erected before the town's gates. It was a high platform with a lengthy set of narrow stairs and three chairs on it while before the chairs was a ramp that lead down into where he guessed the crowd would be gathered, or the soldiers. Legolas was unable to suppress hard swallow and the tendrils of fear began to surge through him when he saw the smaller platform that he guessed the victim would kneel on as he was beheaded. Even though he had known this was coming and had told himself it was merciful and a good thing he still was not able to prepare himself for it and his stomach began to feel sick as his insides froze and seemed to stop working.

He didn't want to die! He wanted to live! He wanted to see his father again! He wanted to see Rothinzil and Helluin with their children once more and he wanted to see his forest again! His life –his immortal life –wasn't supposed to end here on a scaffolding like a common criminal! Then why was everything leading to this? He wanted so badly to tell his father he was sorry….or at least say good-bye…

Cortanyar wasn't paying the least bit of attention to his captive now and as a matter of fact, probably wouldn't have noticed if Legolas had been stolen out from under their very noses. Which, Legolas thought wistfully, he wouldn't mind right now. He watched as the captain of the Haradrim grabbed a younger soldier by his tunic and snapped, "Go and tell his majesty, prince Dorrag we have the Elf in custody and make sure he gives you directions as to what he wants done with him." The young warrior nodded fervently and his face was pale but he rushed off to do his captain's bidding, something which Legolas was a bit disgusted about, that people followed orders from men of Cortanyar's kind.

Cortanyar then spun around, fixing the men who bore Legolas' cage with a demanding glare. "Put the Elf down. We will rest here until we receive our orders." He knew the miserable blonde creature was supposed to die at noon but he also knew that Dorrag all too often changed his plans as well as would like to be there for the execution.

Legolas jolted abruptly as the cage was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, jarring him painfully. His wounded and stiff body screamed and he glared. His look that he gave Cortanyar and the other men, giving especially, though, to the ones who had dropped him, was sharp enough that it was feasible for it to draw blood. "Thank you very much," he mumbled sarcastically, as he tried to ease his jerked body. Looking down at his abdomen, he realized how much weight he had lost and sighed desolately. If the wind blew him away off the scaffolding he wouldn't be overly surprised, and he certainly wouldn't be overly displeased either.

Frowning as he looked at his wounds, which were healing aggravatingly slow, he wondered idly where Aragorn was and if he was alive. Aragorn was better at getting into trouble than out of it, but then again, so was everyone that he was close with except for maybe his father. Maybe that was why he always found himself in these deplorable situations. Well, unfortunately this might be the last situation he ever found himself in ever. Though there were usual dramatic rescues for either he or Aragorn this place just didn't seem like it welcomed things of that nature and so Legolas was pretty sure it was check mate and he had lost. Now it was time to throw in the pieces.

Ah, well there were some things he would rather not think about right now. Brooding over anything never helped anyone and as a matter of fact, in his experience, only served to make things frustratingly worse. Feeling rather sleepy and feeling the effects of the sun now, since the rainy season was evidently coming to a close the Elf allowed the grogginess he felt from the heat and humidity to begin to lull him to sleep. He would have leaned back against the bars of his oh-so-accommodating prison but they had thorns and his hands were bound behind his back, making this unpleasant state of affairs even worse. So, he leaned forward, resting his head, which felt like it was created entirely of iron, on his knees and he began to close his eyes.

However, he should have known rest wasn't going to be permitted, at least, not as long as Cortanyar was awake and still just as maniacal, devious and sadistic as ever. Which, unfortunately, he was still all of these things plus more. Plus lots more, actually, now that Legolas was awakened enough to think about, thanks to the prod in the ribs he had received from a rather pointy spear belonging (unsurprisingly) to a rather grumpy Haradrim captain. "Just you stay awake, Elf!" he snapped. "You'll see a final rest soon enough and you'll get to see your precious Valar!" He sneered suddenly, spitting through the bars and thorns. "Where are they? Your gods? I supposed they would want to save such a loyal Elf as you. Guess they aren't real or maybe you aren't worth it!"

Legolas was not in the frame of mind to put up with this man's arrogant stupidity. Deciding since he was going to die anyway that he had nothing to lose he retorted back sharply. "They have a reason for everything that happens and if this is their will, so be it. I think I can deal with it as long as I am away from you and that slobbering maniacal bovine that is the poorest excuse for a prince I have seen in a long time!" He knew he had just said quite a mouthful of insults, but that was the whole idea, wasn't it? He glared relentlessly through the bars before Cortanyar's face turned an amusing shade of red akin to a tomato and caused the Elf to smile inwardly. "That color looks good on you," he commented to incise Cortanyar further and see if perhaps he could create a shade of royal purple.

The Haradrim captain, to Legolas' disappointment, suddenly went calm and his normal color returned. "I am going to enjoy hacking off your miserable head, Elf. Rest assured, I will be the one to do it!"

Legolas allowed his inner smile to seep through onto his face before he said with a shrug, "if you like. I care not. All the same I will die and go home and get to see my mother and other relatives. It is like a big family reunion if you want to know. Honestly, I think dying might not be so bad, a little annoying if I have to be around too many of my cousins all at once but other than that it should be quite nice and…peaceful I would think."

Cortanyar just pressed his lips into a tight line before giving the Elf one last jab with his spear and leaving to deal with a quarrel that had broken out among his men about Sauron knew what.

Smiling still in satisfaction, Legolas turned his attention to the horizon, where the sun was high in the sky beating down on them all and the rain clouds had been blown into the distance. Squinting, Legolas suddenly looked a little harder as he could have sworn he had seen several figures moving on the horizon, at least ten and probably more. His heart sped up but outwardly he remained calm and observant. Aragorn? Had that stupid human really lived and decided to come after him only to die? But if it was Aragorn Legolas was hard put to figure out who was with him.

Deciding almost instantly that since no one else seemed to see them that they didn't need to know, Legolas kept quiet and diverted his attention away so no one would get suspicious and do the intelligent thing. Look.

O0O0O0O

Aragorn looked about himself, obviously trying to get his bearings. He wasn't from here and so, naturally it took a little longer for him to figure everything out. But there was the trouble. He had told his men to assimilate and try to look like native Haradrim but keep their tell-tale faces hidden. Standing around staring at things like a love stuck frog wasn't going to help with their plan, not at all. This was just anther reason why Aragorn was clenching his hands trying to figure out a way to look inconspicuous.

He knew that most likely everyone would want to come and see Legolas get executed. Chances were all he would have to do was follow the crowd. Sirith was at his side but Darcíl had left, gone to do some part of the plan that was entirely his own and to which Aragorn had not the slightest notion of what it was. This did bother the ranger, but things were in motion now that couldn't very easily be stopped. He didn't have time to fret over Darcíl's doings.

Cloak drawn about his face, the man did look like one the Haradrim peasants who always seemed to try and hide their faces in shame, another of the many things that made Aragorn hate the Haradrim society. Another one of those many reasons could possibly be that they were at war with his people and were going to take pleasure in seeing his best friend put cruelly to death. Feeling his blood run hot with anger, the man willed himself to calm as Sirith stood uneasily by his side. He could feel the younger man's fear and anger surging through him, making the air about them both seem electrified.

Suddenly there were cries and people were running through the market placing seemingly in a huge hurry. There were cries of, "Down with the Elf!" and "Slay the Elf!"

Well, Aragorn reasoned as he pulled Sirith after him and they began to run towards the town gates, (which were still as poorly guarded as when they had sneaked in), this is it. I have to save him now or never.

The savagery of the crowd was…well, yes savage. Though the word 'vicious' described it about as well. But there were a few exceptions in the crowd; people that were too used to seeing an execution or two a week and thought this to be rather boring with the possible exclusion of the one to be executed. An Elf was something they didn't see everyday, especially being bound and decapitated. It sounded interesting in a monotonous way.

Continuing to pull Sirith after him Aragorn followed the mob of angry or curious townspeople to the gates and out of them where the ghastly scaffolding was erected. It didn't look like anyone had put a lot of thought into making it sturdy, Aragorn noted absentmindedly.

What he saw next made his heart constrict and go cold with sorrow. It might have actually broken, he wasn't sure.

A prisoner was being dragged through the crowd, but he was putting up no resistance. People struck out at him from many sides, catching him in his already damaged and bruised ribs, or hitting him in the face and head. He staggered but didn't fall, not yet. His long, tangled and dirty blonde hair obscured his face so it could not be read but Aragorn had a sinking feeling that it spoke of failure and despair…of surrender.

Legolas was so weary that he wasn't trying to avoid or deflect any blow from anyone and he was allowing the guards the lead him without the slightest hesitation. He wanted to die, Aragorn realized. He couldn't believe it, his heart was aching as he realized he was witnessing something that he never had thought he would see as long as he lived.

Legolas had given up completely. He could tell his friend was so tired. Tired of trying, tired of failing, tired of being miserable, tired of being tired. He was an absolute dead beat, Aragorn watched as he stumbled and was yanked up by chains that held his hands being his back. For a moment the wind blew his fair hair away from his face and Aragorn saw the pain on the features and the grimace as he took a few more faltering steps forward.

Looking over at Sirith, Aragorn saw absolute anger that wouldn't easily be cooled giving a sinister glow to the young soldier's eyes. It was then the ranger realized that Sirith and Legolas had truly been friends and the forty-year old smiled. He wasn't sure if Sirith knew it, but a human having that strong a friendship with an Elf was a real privilege. Aragorn had known it for years and at this moment, right now, he was terrified of losing it.

Glaring darkly from within the hood about his face, Aragorn watched as the men escorting his friend, simple guards it appeared they were, began to drag him to the stairs of the great platform. Legolas still put up no resistance and as a matter of fact, seemed to be slightly grateful. Aragorn could tell his friend was thirsting for peace like a flower for water in a bleak desert.

Up on the platform, Cortanyar looked at Dorrag. He was pleased and a bit…excited that his lord had decided not to delay this miserable Elf's execution. Dorrag seemed happier than he had in a long time which was probably a good thing if you were a member of his confidants. You wouldn't have to be overly worried about his changing nature for a few days.

Running his fingers along the long battle sword he held in his hands, freshly sharpened for the occasion, he glanced over at the Elf coming along rather nicely up the stairs. But he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when he saw the Elf's face washed in defeat but in relief and actually a hidden happiness. He had hoped to see this blonde creature shivering in fear.

The crowd was finally all around the scaffolding now and it was a real challenge for the many guards and sentries to keep them at bay. Dorrag smiled coolly, feeling suddenly more powerful than he had in a long time, having won the game. The Elf was going to die and that was a satisfying thought. The ranger's fate was unknown because according to who you asked he was either, alive, dead, lost and most likely dead, or beyond their reach. Either way, it didn't matter did it? Dorrag didn't see him here. Shame really, he wished the man could see his precious Elf die.

Aragorn looked around numbly, making sure his men were in their places. Nothing, absolutely nothing, must go wrong or it would be entirely at Legolas' expense and he had paid enough of the cost of things around here. With curiosity, Aragorn saw that Darcíl was position on the other side of the scaffolding, near Dorrag, so close he could kill him.

Seeing Aragorn watching him, the man winked slyly at the ranger and then turned his attention back to other matters at hand.

Aragorn didn't even see the wink, his own attention locked on Legolas was the Elf was hauled up onto the platform and nearly fell. He was so weak it made Aragorn want to weep but he had to be strong for his friend, he just had to.

The prince, who was looking rather bedraggled to bear that sort of title, was brought before Dorrag. Just so he can scoff at me, the Elf thought inwardly, giving the man the darkest and most belligerent glare he could come up with at the moment.

The response of the human was just as Legolas might have expected. A cold laugh of triumph and a gesticulation for the guards to make the Elf bow on his knees before his conqueror. Making Legolas go to his knees didn't take much effort on the guards' part, though they carried out the order with a great amount of vibrant zeal, kicking the back of Legolas' knees harshly so they automatically folded.

"You fell so hard Elf, you fell so hard." The ruler shook his head as he spoke. "Pity really, you could have died proudly, with your head held high, but well, you can barely keep on your feet. As you can see, despite all your efforts I won the game, Elf. You are going to die." He watched his captive's face intently, looking for any sign of fear or regret.

"You only think you won the game just as you are only a prince in your imagination," the chained Elf ground out between his grit teeth. Right now he was trying not to pass out from weariness and pain. He knew he was asking to be reprimanded before all these people but he was beyond caring. He was going to die, what more did he have to lose? As much as he was sure that Aragorn would want to save him, he highly doubted that the human could. He trusted Aragorn to try, but beyond that he couldn't find it within himself to put anymore faith into the ranger's plan.

"How so Elf?" Dorrag asked evenly, trying pathetically to keep a serene and cool face. "You are here, ready to die like a weak little vagrant. And your friend is most likely dead. There is no hope of rescue for you, not with all my men about you and me. This is the end, in case you didn't know." He laughed, but Legolas noticed his laugh was uneasy as though Legolas' words had surfaced some dark and gnawing doubt in his mind.

"You never found out my name and you never broke me, Dorrag the Arrogant! I am still very much alive in spirit and nothing you could do could force anything from me. You are a despicable coward and you are going to die!" Legolas spat, panting in exhaustion from his wounds and treatment. The men had been granted a moment or two to…play with him before brining him to his scheduled execution.

Legolas watched smugly as Dorrag's face turned an astonishing color of red and nearly went purple. It was slightly satisfying but Legolas didn't have long to take pride in it before Dorrag struck him across the face, knocking him to the floor where he lay a brutal and well-planted kick against his chest, breaking an old wound and causing him to cry out. He had tired not to, but everything had taken a heavy toll on his already over taxed body. His cries were involuntary and unstoppable.

Aragorn watched in horror, wanting to rush up there, however prematurely to his plan, and stop the abuse.

But he had to wait, he had to and so he was forced to hear his friend's cries.

"Do you want to be taken back to the cold cells and be put through the paces again, Elf? Because I can arrange that right now," Dorrag finished, eyeing the Elven prince as though he was actually considering it. "You know that within the hour you will have told me everything I want to know and we would be right back here again."

"I wouldn't want to be any trouble," Legolas answered back snidely.

Dorrag obviously had had enough of his victim talking back in the presence of all these people who were supposed to fear him. Glaring at the guards who had escorted the captive, the snapped, "get him over there and let's get this business over with. String his body up for the crows when you are finished."

Grabbing Legolas roughly by his upper arms, the men began to drag him to the center of the scaffolding with Cortanyar walking behind with his long and freshly sharpened sword. A gleeful smile was on the man's face and he looked more than thoroughly pleased with the situation. These simple townspeople were going to learn to fear him more than Dorrag and then they would see who would be ruler here.

Standing before the Elf, who was looking up at him with a peaceful look in his eyes, as though he had already crossed over, Cortanyar used the sharp tip of his sword to brush Legolas' dirty hair away from his neck and smiled coldly as he was already picturing Legolas' headless body. With Dorrag's permission he would keep the Elf's head, he decided. It would make a nice addition to his collection. Legolas just tipped his chin up and closed his eyes, waiting for the fatal blow.

He wasn't afraid, at least not of death. But he didn't want his eyes to spend their last few seconds of life searching for his body once his shoulders were relieved of his head. He didn't want to carry that memory to Valinor with him. He would rather think of peaceful things and bring those with him. Like the time Aragorn and Rothinzil had made him believe that there was a good sized spider in his hair, or the time that the reckless human had nearly been shot by him near the Emyn Duir. Yes, these memories he would take with him, memories of home, friends and family. He only regretted he wasn't able to tell anyone good-bye.

But then many things happened at once, causing the Elf to open his eyes incredulously. For a second he couldn't believe that the Valar were not playing with his mind.

A sword, or more accurately a scimitar was protruding through Cortanyar's chest from the back. Blood was running down the Harad man's chin but his filmy eyes showed he was already dead. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Really this was impossible and yet here it was. Blinking in pleasant astonishment Legolas leaned backwards only to find a set of arms gripping him tightly but gently.

"Please! I can't very easily undue these blasted chains if you don't hold still," Aragorn's voice came from the back.

Smiling, Legolas answered, "on time but cutting it incredibly close, as usual. Pardon me if I am not surprised." He felt a small comfort even though he knew that they were not out of the woods yet. Fighting had broken out around them while peasants fled in terror. Realizing the full danger Legolas looked back at Aragorn and asked worriedly, "so what by Eru's name is going on and how are those manacles coming?"

Aragorn chuckled lightly as he worked to pick the nasty and rather rusty locks with his pair of shaking hands. He had come so close to losing his best friend that he had nearly died of fear. "Well, I created a little plan with the help of Darcíl and it is in action now." He accidentally jerked Legolas' chains a bit roughly, tugging against the raw skin and wincing when the Elf hissed quietly before answering.

His response was a bit stressed but calm. "You created the plan? Valar have mercy! We are all going to die!"

"Thanks for your confidence," Aragorn replied while looking up briefly from his work to see if Sirith was doing all right with his job of looking after he and Legolas' backs. So far the young warrior seemed to be doing quite well and defeating every adversary he was pitted against.

"Well you have to admit, your plans in the past…"

"You are being a distraction. I can't work," Aragorn grumbled as he skillfully used the piece of wire to manipulate the locking functions. He was grateful he had picked this thing up when he had entered the Valar cursed camp where his men were held.

Legolas went silent, observing everything and making judgments in his mind but not speaking them out loud. The sooner these cuffs were off the better.

Darcíl was fighting with Dorrag he realized with interest as he watched them cut and stab at each other on the side of the scaffolding opposite to he and Aragorn. However, you couldn't really call it a fight, Legolas realized because Darcíl was losing miserably. His weariness and depression over the death of his family was getting to him. Not to mention that his anger, which had served him well until now, was causing him to burn out. It had burned intensely but not lasted long enough to send him through the battle.

Wincing inwardly as Aragorn brushed against one of the more painful burns on his hands, not wanting the human to know he was causing him any hurt, Legolas occupied himself with keeping an eye on Darcíl and his fight with Dorrag. With dismay and slight pity, Legolas came to the understanding that this was a fight Darcíl was not going to win.

The Haradrim captain was backed up against the edge of the scaffolding, his sword raised about to split the skull of that bovine of a prince, but that was when time itself seemed to stop and even Aragorn stopped working on Legolas' cuffs for a moment.

Everyone appeared to watch the fight now, as though their lives rested on it, which practically, they did.

"I had thought I had gotten rid of you captian, but I suppose that I was wrong. Well, no matter, you are going to die now!" Dorrag shouted and then, taking advantage of Darcíl's vulnerability as his sword was raised for a killing blow, Dorrag plunged his blade into the other man's abdomen.

All Darcíl saw was the flash of the blade in the noon sun and then he felt a savage pain cut through his body before everything began to fade. His eyes caught Dorrag's and he noticed with anguish that Dorrag was smiling –laughing, like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Darcíl had to admit; it was something that he found odd, considering he had obviously never made an error this serious before and was quite the better fighter.

But he felt a strange peace flowing over him now as time seemed to pass him by and sounds faded as his vision began to go black. He was falling backward and yet he felt as though he was rising up, up into the air. For a moment he felt a jolting pain and then he felt nothing, nothing at all. He felt like he was numb and yet full of feeling, alive and yet so dead.

It was an incredible thing; so incredible he was wondering if the death he had always tried to avoid might not have been the best option from the get-go. But then he shook his head inwardly as he realized that every life had to have a purpose of some sort, so living was an honor.

Legolas didn't even realize he was screaming, which, he reasoned with a detached calmness, wasn't surprising when he considered everyone else was yelling as well and he could scarcely recognize his own voice. Aragorn was screaming right behind him and then, Darcíl fell. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed, he wouldn't believe it! –But no, he had to. It was the truth and denial opened darker doors and gates to dangerous paths.

Darcíl was dead.

It was that simple.

But then again, it wasn't.

Legolas would have wanted him to die at one point, but strangely now, he didn't feel that way. The man hadn't been evil at heart, rather forced to behave evilly and only then to save his family. With his family gone he had done his best to live without them and do what he knew was right, now that he didn't have to worry about them. But his will was not as strong and his anger over took him.

His anger had cost him the battle.

Nothing was ever as simple as life and death, and yet nothing was any more complicated, Legolas realized. He had seen people die before, innocent and evil but not until now had the full reality hit him, not until now when he had seen whole battalions and regiments destroyed and heard their death screams had he realized that death was so distant and yet so close.

He was an Elf; he wasn't supposed to ever see things like this.

But like all Elves, he took part in the curses of the Valar.

Legolas had hardly realized Aragorn had picked his locks, and probably wouldn't have if the man hadn't called his name and asked him what in the world was the matter, why he wasn't getting up and preparing to fight.

But he felt so very tired. He actually couldn't truly believe how tired he felt. And his body hurt, his hands not the least. He didn't think he could grip the hilt of a weapon if he wanted to. If he were forced to, that was an entirely different matter.

'But,' he commanded himself. 'You must fight. Aragorn cannot be feeling much better and he is already doing double to make up for your lapse.' Grinding his teeth, Legolas bent down and picked up a disregarded sword, more like liberated sword, he thought, studying the hilt and realizing it was Haradrim make.

Looking over he saw Dorrag, running towards them with a perfectly insane facial expression. He had known that the man was incapable of sane thought, but now he looked more maniacal than usual. It must be because of his rage, Legolas reasoned as he watched the human come bonding forward with his bloody scimitar poised to kill. He was running anyone, even his own men through, if they were unfortunate enough to get in his way.

Preparing himself for mortal combat, Legolas tried to get his mind to focus but images were merging and he felt like he was weaker than water. His torment had caught up with him for certain and his system appeared to be failing, having borne the brunt of more abuse than an Elven constitution could stand.

Legolas didn't even realize he had been shoved aside by a man in a battle with one of Aragon's soldiers until his knees bent and touched the boards of the scaffolding as his body utterly refused to comply, going into rebellion. Aragorn was locked in battle with a couple of the Haradrim soldiers and neither of the friends was able to come to each other's aid.

Sirith, faithful Sirith, looked over as he slew a Haradrim guard, happening to see Legolas on his knees, vulnerable to a mortal blow and more than defenseless in his position. Whirling around, the young warrior shoved men out of his way in a frantic dash to reach Legolas before anyone else.

He was nearly at his goal when something slammed into out of nowhere and he was almost thrown off course completely.

Dorrag rushed past, storming over to where Legolas was struggling to get up and hold a decent defensive position. Raising a foot, Dorrag placed it on Legolas' rib cage and forcefully slammed the Elf to the floor, pinning him there as he ground his boot into the battered ribs.

Legolas gapped, barely able to breathe let alone think as his pain doubled. How was it this man just wouldn't die and be killed by anyone? Why was this world cursed with his constant presence?

"Well, Elf, you have some powerful allies, I'll grant you that. But it doesn't matter. I am going to rip you apart!" he spat, kicking the prince in the ribs before he pinned him beneath the weight of his boot again.

Placing his sword over Legolas' chest as he rolled the prince over, the man mused with a cold and wicked chuckle, "now where shall I start? Taking out a lung or," he moved his blade down to Legolas' lower ribs, "shredding your liver?"

Legolas just shuddered helplessly. He knew it, three times was the charm and he was going to die. Closing his eyes he just prayed it would be in the first two minutes of his disemboweling, preferably the first two seconds. After all, he knew it was something he was going to like very much and he also fancied he didn't want to see what his entrails looked like before he died in excruciating pain.

Driving his sword into his opponent and giving him a hardy kick in the back with his foot, Aragorn swirled his gray eyes around as he anxiously looked for Legolas. He could feel his own body seeming to shut down and he knew Legolas had endured far worse than he had these past days. The Elf was just too weak plan and simple.

Catching sight of his friend's golden hair he realized that Dorrag had the Elf pinned to the floor and was standing over him with a naked blade, poised to kill.

But as fate would have it, many men came into his path, fighting like cornered animals and there was no break to get to his friend, who was lost in the sea like frenzy.

O0O

Having been welcomed to the palace a little while ago, Elrond and his sons sat comfortably before Thranduil in chairs in his throne room. Elladan and Elrohir were quiet and their faces were deathly pale with Elladan's being a little whiter. He was the older brother after all, this was his entire fault.

Elrond shook his head and bowed it in confusion. Nothing was making sense. "So for two years they have been completely lost?" he asked quietly, hardly knowing what else to say and feeling despair tug at his heart once more.

Thranduil shook his head in disbelief that Legolas had not been in Rivendell. "I didn't think he would run away but when he wasn't back in a day I had no other thoughts…no where to turn." He shook his head sadly. "I never meant to be so harsh to him."

"So we can only conclude that Aragorn and Legolas are together?" Elladan voiced, bordering on being out of turn.

Elrond gave him a disapproving and long suffering expression, causing Elladan to sink lower into his seat and exchange glances with his brother. "They are together, or I think they are dead."

"This is the kind of time when you wish you were given a chance to go back in time." Thranduil shook his head and stood up slowly, walking over to where there was a small window. Looking out it he finished sadly, "and you wonder what things you would have done differently, what things you would change, and what you would give to have that chance." He closed his eyes in anguish and then opened them slowly. "I wish that I had the chance to say so many things."

Elrond sighed wearily before speaking again. "Then we must trust in their friendship, that if they are alive it is strong enough to see them through and that they are together. Somehow I think they would be drawn to each other."

Elrohir asked softly, out of pure curiosity, "what was Legolas so distraught about that he ran away?"

Thranduil shot Elrohir an annoyed look and Elrond glared at him critically. This was not one of the more…subtle questions that Elrohir could have asked and really it wasn't entirely his business, Thranduil thought darkly. But he answered anyway, not having anything to hide. "Well he wanted to go down South, to Harad I believe. He mentioned something about Strider, and how he needed help." Thranduil looked absolutely exasperated. "The last thing Legolas needed was to go to Harad. We all know how our people are welcomed down there and rangers as well."

Elladan and Elrohir's eyes met and then Elladan spoke softly, "there is a war between Gondor and the Haradrim now. Aragorn would have wanted to help his people."

"And Legolas couldn't stand the thought of him doing it alone," Elrohir finished for his brother.

"So they are in Harad of all places? With their impeccable attraction of trouble?" Elladan seethed, clearly not liking his younger brother being even relatively in these circumstances. Harad! Mercy, was Aragorn mad and Legolas too?

"There is half a chance," Elrond said, his eyes connecting with Thranduil's. "Wars last a long time, two years is not overly much time."

"But we have heard no word, what if they are dead?" the Elvenking asked desolately, his eyes conveying more sorrow than he probably had meant for them to.

A few weeks ago Elrond would have been completely willing to mourn with Thranduil and say that, yes, they were dead. But not know.

His sons were showing so much hope and he just couldn't believe that they were dead.

He wouldn't believe that they were dead.

O0O

Sirith, after stumbling clear of Dorrag and spun around and looked with wide eyes for Legolas, who he couldn't find. Suddenly his eyes found what he sought. A blonde Elf sprawled upon his back with a sword tracing over his abdomen, making imaginary and taunting lines as Dorrag prepared to draw and quarter his mortal enemy. To the prisoner's credit he wasn't flinching and though his face was pale it wasn't entirely hopeless.

Clenching his sword even tighter, the young warrior began to hastily shove through fighting and dying men to get to the Elf. Legolas had saved his life before and now the turn was his. Brandishing his sword with bright anger flashing in his eyes he came up behind Dorrag, poised to run the wicked ruler through with this sword.

Legolas saw him but he also saw something that Sirith did not. Dorrag's eyes were swiveled backwards as he allowed a sadistic smile to spread across his face. He was perfectly aware of Sirith behind him and was playing along until the last possible moment. Then, he would strike and kill.

Legolas knew this but had no time to cry out, not time to do anything. He couldn't speak if he had wanted to with his mouth feeling numb and his mind registering shock at the slaughter taking place around him. He only seen these horrors a few times in his life and he could never get used to them.

As though everything was imaginary, Dorrag spun around, his blade low to the ground and before anyone could speak or do anything, he rammed it upwards and buried it deeply into Sirith's abdomen. The young warrior stumbled forward a few steps and then froze. Legolas grimaced as he screamed, knowing that in a moment the young warrior's mouth would become a fountain of blood and then the man…would die.

Sirith had reminded him of Aragorn so much in spirit and kindness that Legolas couldn't believe this was happening. Was Aragorn going to die as well?

Dorrag still had his sword buried nearly to the hilt in the young Gondorian and his dark eyes were bright with laughter as he gave it a vicious twist and watched Sirith's face contort in even more anguish and pain. Foolish Elf, thinking a little boy like this could rescue him. He might as well have wished for a sudden army from the Valar themselves.

Legolas watched as Dorrag relished the murder of Sirith. Legolas was tired, this was true. He wanted to die but at the cry from this young warrior that had accepted him when others had not something in him died as something else caught fire with such a fierce heat he felt life returning.

Looking around for a weapon, any weapon, just something that would slay this cruel man so the world could be rid of him and his carcass disposed of, Legolas saw a small dagger lying on the boards. If he wasn't mistaken this was the same dagger that had been tossed at him by Dorrag not so long ago. He didn't know how it had found its way back to him at this time of need but he supposed divine intervention deserved some credit.

And he had a promise to keep.

Struggling along the boards, dragging himself, Legolas reached for it, his fingers barely hooking on it and he pushed himself nearly beyond his limits before he was able to get a grip on it. One of his guards must have found it and decided to keep it for themselves, not uncommon among folk like this. But he didn't care. Dorrag was going to die, right now.

Forcing himself to rise to his feet, though his legs tried to forbid it, Legolas faltered forward a few steps and then, as Dorrag basked in his filthy and wicked glory, the Elf raised the blade. Suddenly he sneered, "Dorrag, turn around before you miss out on your chance to kill me."

Dorrag spun around, his sword being pulled from poor Sirith's stomach as he did, causing the young human to fall to his knees and crumple to the floor like a limp doll. Legolas nearly dropped his clamped jaw as he gazed at the life fluids running down Dorrag's sword and dripping from the tip. Shuddering, he barely had time to slide out of the way of the thrust from his opponent's weapon before he stabbed down.

Dorrag just stared at the knife in his chest before he pulled it free with a trembling hand, working to swallow the blood rising in his throat before the collapsed into a quivering heap on the floorboards of the scaffolding. It had been that simple, once chance, one knife, one stab, one life.

Legolas stared at the body of his former captor, unable to believe he was dead and that he would trouble him no more. But the prince felt weak and with what strength he still possessed he put all his efforts into staggering over to wear Sirith lay, dying.

The young man was shaking and his face was turning from a sick green to a bluish white while his mouth remained bright red. Scooping him up into his arms as he collapsed himself, Legolas cradled the dying boy's head with an arm and with his free hand smoothed his hair away from his brow. "You saved my life," he choked out, tears building in his eyes.

Sirith struggled to keep his eyes open and smiled slightly, reaching a shaking hand up to touch the tips of Legolas' pointy ears gently, as though he was afraid to cause the Elf more harm. "How many times…have you…saved mine? I am…only repaying…the debt…" he trailed off as his air ran out and he was unable to draw another.

Legolas pulled Sirith close, comforting the boy in death as best as he was able and wondering why he was allowed to live when this young one had to die. He didn't even realize that Aragorn was running and had skidded to a halt by his side, kneeling down and placing a strong hand on his shoulder for support. Blinking, Legolas felt the color of his face leave completely and then everything began to fade out.

He felt Sirith's body go completely cold as his spirit fled from his maimed body, dispersing into the air to find its way to wherever men went. In shock Legolas looked up at the sky, as if he could see it floating and dancing above his head.

Sirith had gone home.

Legolas became totally unaware of the fighting that was dying down about him and his eyes swirled over, falling upon Aragorn's tear streaked face that was staring down at him in anguish. Then, everything went black and he felt himself falling, falling and going into darkness, then there was nothing.

He couldn't see Aragorn's face. He couldn't see anything, and then conscious thought stopped.

Legolas was unable to hear Aragorn screaming his name, calling him back. He was blind to how the ranger collapsed to his knees and rapidly checked for a pulse, pained by his findings…

TBC……okie dokie, one more chapter to go! Check bio page for review responses and a proposal from Viggomaniac about exactly how to go about them. (waves) Thanks for the idea Viggomaniac!