Soldiers & Heroes

For disclaimer, rating and summary, see the previous chapter.

A/N: Last chap, hope you like. Don't forget to review.

Part II – A Heart Terribly Wounded

"How many were lost, Aragorn?"

The Heir of Isildur spun around in surprise at the soft voice. Haunted, dull sapphire eyes bored into his. Aragorn took a step back involuntarily at the Elf's sudden and ghostly appearance before him. "Legolas, you are all right! Thank the Valar–"

"How many?"

Aragorn stopped speaking and gazed concernedly at his friend, worry clenching his heart. Legolas' voice was empty; his usual spark absent. His eyes were blank pools of a silver-blue tint, face oddly pale even for his usual fair skin. Battle had given him faint traces of a bruise appearing on his temple and dirt smudged onto his cheeks and clung in his damp, pale-gold hair. But something was terribly wrong with Legolas, and Aragorn knew it. "We lost nearly three-hundred Rohirrim…why do you ask?" Aragorn told him, troubled.

"ELVES! How many of my kin were lost, human!" Legolas suddenly exploded, seizing Aragorn's collar and shaking him angrily. His sapphire eyes finally showed some emotion now; anger flashed sharply on the surface, but just beneath lay a heart terribly wounded. The man recoiled, flinching at the prince's unexpected outburst.

"None survived, save you, my friend…" Aragorn managed out softly.

Quickly the strong fingers gripping him by the neck of his shirt disappeared, and Legolas stepped back, turning away swiftly. He muttered something under his breath and stormed away, towards the stone stairs leading to the top of the Deeping Wall. Aragorn stumbled after him, confused and worried.

"Legolas…Legolas wait! What is wrong? Please, Legolas, speak with me," Aragorn cried out desperately, and grabbed hold of Legolas' shoulder, spinning him around. Legolas twisted out from underneath his grasp, but Aragorn latched onto his arm and firmly refused to let the Elven prince leave without an explanation.

"I failed them."

It took Aragorn by surprise when Legolas' voice was trembling and soft. The prince refused to look up, instead finding the rocks at his feet incredibly interesting to study.

"What?"

Legolas shoved Aragorn away angrily. "Must I explain everything, you Valar-forsaken idiot?" He exclaimed, going into a rage. "My kin! They are dead, all because of me! I failed them! I could not bring down an Uruk-hai that went on to kill dozens of my people! They died, and I am the only one who lived through the battle! I failed and I live, yet my kin won a victory and they all perished in the fight! How glorious will that sound to my father, when I ride into his courtyard and announce that I lived while my friends were slaughtered just because I could not kill one certain enemy? What do you think, Aragorn? Tell me!"

As soon as his fury had been unleashed and his temper soothed by the silence that followed it seemed as if all the hatred and pain drained from Legolas. His shoulders slumped, and he recoiled as if struck. The prince buried his face into his hands, and sank to the ground, sobbing. Aragorn was in shock, having watched on in horror and sorrow as the strong, great prince withered to a crying young Elf. Legolas was always so calm, never allowing his true emotions to be seen. Valar, he had never seen Legolas even get close to tears. Cautiously, the man knelt next to his Elven friend and put an arm around the Elf's shaking shoulders.

"No, Legolas, you did not fail them. You have never failed anyone. You tried, and that is all that matters," Aragorn tried to assure him gently, his silver eyes softening at the sight of his friend. Legolas shook free of his touch weakly, but did not move away.

"I still failed to save them," Legolas wept softly, his voice breaking. "I could not kill the Uruk, so they died. You were hurt, and Gimli, and…"

Aragorn gripped Legolas' forearm, pulling the Elf to his feet. He forced Legolas to look at him, his steely eyes flashing. "Legolas, I swear to you that you have never failed me. You never will. Do not carry the weight of the dead, Elven prince. Look ahead to the future, to a place in Valinor where you will be content with your people."

Legolas' gaze wavered and he turned his head to the side, silver tears slipping down his fair face. Aragorn gave his arm a sharp jerk, and the prince glanced back up, his look forlorn and full of guilt.

"The Elves that died here came knowing they would die, and you must live," Aragorn said under his breath, a warning barely heard in the man's commanding voice. "You pledged yourself to defending the Ring-bearer, and although Frodo is far from us you still protect him leagues away. Your place belongs here with us, to defend him, and not with the dead. You should not have died with your kin, no matter what you think."

Legolas glanced away, the words only now taking full effect. When he turned back, his eyes glistened, unshed tears shimmering on the clear surface of the cerulean orbs. A faint smile suddenly blessed his features, and his nimble fingers rested lightly on the shoulder of his friend.

"Now I know why I befriended you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," He murmured, gripping Aragorn's shoulder tightly now. "For you have kindness and nobleness beyond those of your people, and even of me. I am honored to fight for you, my king, for it is you that shall carve the path of my future. You have my allegiance."

With those last words the Elf and Man embraced with tears running freely, and together departed the battlefield no longer as soldiers, but as heroes.

The End