A/N: This turned out very different to what I expected, but I think it's okay.

Also characterization is wack don't mind that.

Fighting his way past the crowd, swarms of people heading in the opposite direction, Legolas fought to keep up with Aragorn. The crowd naturally parted for the man, who had an imposing stature, whereas Legolas found himself being battered by people rushing to get past. Aragorn was saying something, something to do with the positioning of the archers. Legolas couldn't really hear him, and he didn't really care at that particular moment.

"Aragorn." He interrupted, finally making it back to his side. "You must rest."

Legolas didn't fail to notice Aragorn's grimace. They both knew that he was in no fit condition to fight. "You are no use to us half alive."

Aragorn turned to face him, and Legolas braced himself for another fight. He was prepared for it. And at least this time he knew that he was most definitely in the right. However, before Aragorn could protest Legolas's request, his name was called out by Éowyn. Legolas folded his arms defensively as Aragorn turned to address her. It was an unconscious reaction, something he didn't even notice he did. His brows furrowed in annoyance. Every second that passed Aragorn grew more and more determined to fight. If Legolas didn't stop him soon, then there would be no chance.

Legolas hung around behind Aragorn, not so close that he would be visibly eavesdropping, but close enough that he could do so without looking as if he was. While he was struggling to feel particularly kind towards Éowyn given that she'd just interrupted him right when he was attempting to do something vital, he did feel a great empathy for her situation. He'd also experienced the frustration of not being allowed out to fight, to help a cause he cared about, when everyone he knew could. But both he and Aragorn could do nothing against Théoden's word.

Legolas got the growing feeling that he was in the way, both of Aragorn's conversation and of the people pushing him aside to get through. He turned to leave, thinking that he could find Aragorn in half an hour. And knock him out, if need be.

As he turned though, and began walking along with the crowd instead of against them, he sensed rather than heard Aragorn jog after him, and felt a hand in his shoulder.

"Finished?"

Aragorn sighed.

"I did not mean for us to be interrupted. She was only inquiring as to why she could not fight."

"I heard. And I presume you told her that she could not?"

"I told her that it was not my choice."

It should've been her choice, but that was not the way of things. Legolas definitely knew how she felt. His temporary annoyance at her lessened, and his mind focused back to more important things.

"Aragorn you must see to your injuries. You must not fight in this condition."

Aragorn waved him away dismissively, starting to climb the stairs away from the more crowded level.

"You need not pester me. I am in good enough condition."

"Aragorn there is not time to argue. Let me treat you now, so I still have time to prepare."

"So you would have yourself fight, but not allow me?" Aragorn replied, facing Legolas.

Legolas waved his arms exasperatedly.

"I am not the one who fell off of a cliff."

"Our numbers are low enough already. You'll need my command."

"You cannot command like this." Legolas pointed out, gesturing at Aragorn's still bloody shoulder. "You are going to get yourself killed."

"Why do I feel like you have been repeating yourself to little success for the past five minutes?" Aragorn questioned pointedly. Legolas glared at him defensively.

"Maybe because you're too stupid to listen."

Aragorn scowled.

"Since when did I need your permission to do anything?"

"Since you started being reckless for no good cause!"

"No good cause? You think that this cause is not worth much?"

"No I -" Legolas began, but Aragorn held up his hand.

"You will not stop me. I do not have time to listen to you fawn over irrelevant details. I will do what I wish."

"But if you do not rest you will not heal."

"Then so be it. I will fight no matter my condition. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to continue with the organization. You should make yourself useful too, instead of wasting your time on ineffective pestering."

Ouch. That hurt. Legolas did his best to cover up the wounded expression on his face, not that it would have mattered anyways. Aragorn had already turned, pushing past Legolas and following the stairs up to the keep.

It didn't matter. It shouldn't have mattered. But to know that Aragorn had thought less of him for caring, even if just for a moment, stung. The elf let out a sigh. It seemed that conveying his feelings in a way which did not put him against others would forever be a skill unreachable for him. They were never interpreted right.

He would hassle Aragorn later. Even if it made the gap between them wider, it would be worth it. At least he'd be safe.

Legolas would rather Aragorn hated him and was alive, than loved him and was dead.

It was a terse goodbye when they finally started to go to the battlements, several hours later. More than one argument had happened, and one of the times Legolas ended up in a room full of people who thought the worst of him. He knew he wasn't exactly boosting morale. He'd apologized to Aragorn but he wasn't sure he'd got his message across. There was a chilly atmosphere between them, one which Legolas could not have rid while maintaining his point.

So both of them decided to suffer through it, hiding their disagreement to avoid lowering anyone's spirits. Haldir had noticed something was different between them a while after he'd arrived, but didn't press it. And neither Aragorn nor Legolas enlightened him. They pushed the anger aside. However, the second they were out of earshot Legolas would try to get Aragorn to rest and sit the battle out. His words went unheeded, and Legolas couldn't tell if it was stubbornness or anger which caused it. Though it was most likely a mixture of both.

Standing on the parapets, Legolas began to wish he'd made more of an effort to make up with Aragorn before the storm came. He wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to him. Not so soon after he'd lost him over the cliff. The crushing guilt had been enough then, Legolas didn't want to waste this second chance. The gift of life had become exceedingly more precious.

He took a second to glance along the wall, past the lines of his kin and to the men on the other side. He could just about make out Aragorn. Still okay. Still fine. Not that anything would have happened to him already, when the evening was still young and anything was yet to happen. Even injured, Aragorn was competent. Legolas just wished he wouldn't be so insistent on being a hero.

If he'd just accepted that he was in dire need of time to regain his strength, they wouldn't have been in this whole mess to begin with. Aragorn would be safe and Legolas wouldn't be so on edge. And, most importantly, they wouldn't be facing death with a rift so clearly between them. Legolas did not in any way deny that Aragorn could help, as the man so clearly assumed he meant, more that he would be more so if he took time to restore.

At the first signs of rain, they also began to see the first signs of movement. Legolas sighed as they slowly became more and drenched, waiting for the troops to reach them. Soon his hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes were stuck to him, not good for easy movement. But he couldn't even imagine how it must have been for the others, who felt the cold far more deeply.

But even Legolas after a while began to feel the chill, something which made him weary and his bones ache. And they hadn't even started fighting yet.

The second the troops became within shooting range the order was given to prepare to fire, though they had to hold the position. Another five minutes of quiet then the orcs started up a terrible cry, the clamour echoing around the valley. Legolas took aim, first at one point, then at the other, not quite sure where was the most important place to focus. But still they held.

Until they didn't.

One misfire, Legolas figured it was probably someone either too young to know how to hold a bow or someone too old to have the strength to. But a sudden silence fell across the legions, everyone holding their breath. Legolas heard Aragorn repeat the command to hold again, not that it would make much of a difference now. They waited with baited breath, not knowing what to hope for. Not that there was anything they could feasibly hope for.

Then the noise came back, louder than before, and the attack began. Orders began to be yelled from the other side of the wall, and Legolas followed without thinking about it, choosing his first targets. He muttered a low tip to those around him, suggesting some places the armour would be weakest. And then the volley of arrows broke loose.

For a while Legolas mindlessly moved, just launching arrow after arrow onto the ground below the wall. But soon the swarms overwhelmed them, and ladders were propped up against the stone. At that point Legolas debated switching to his daggers, but decided to continue using his bow, at least for a bit. It meant he could take people down before they reached the top.

About five minutes in Gimli and him exchanged counts, and Legolas was glad to find that he was already far ahead of the dwarf. Not that he should have been taking the deaths so lightly, but pushing them aside meant he would have to feel the guilt later on. He also took this opportunity to look for Aragorn, and made sure that he was okay. As far as the elf could see, Aragorn was still fine. Still alive and fighting.

It went on like that for a while, until Legolas could barely see through the rain and he could feel his supply of arrows dwindling. It had been a while since he'd used so many up that he'd needed to start regathering them, but that's what he started to do, reusing them again so he wouldn't have to run out. Even then he didn't think he'd make it through the whole battle.

At one point he thought he heard someone call his name, but he ignored it, continuing to fire at the ladders. He thought he'd probably imagined it, and even if he hadn't, he could deal with it afterwards. But then the call came again, this time more desperate. And it was Aragorn. Legolas spun around, poised to shoot in the direction of the voice in case he was surrounded. But Aragorn wasn't in trouble himself, but gesturing to something over the wall.

Legolas leapt nimbly up, preparing to fire. He saw it, a trail of smoke, coming from a torch. Carried by an orc. Legolas could hear Aragorn yelling for him to kill it, so he took aim, and fired at its head. It was a clean shot, and Legolas hit it exactly where he'd aimed. But it did not falter, didn't even stumble. Legolas took aim again, and Aragorn's yelling became even more insistent. He was ready to fire, had a weak point selected.

But suddenly he couldn't do it. Fear flooded him. What if he missed? What if he couldn't do anything to stop it? Aragorn was right above it, whatever they were planning, and Legolas didn't know what it was, it wasn't good. What if Aragorn was hurt because he missed? What if Legolas caused something bad to happen? What if he failed and Aragorn died.

He felt his steady shot falter, his arms trembling. His breath hitched. He let the bowstring go, but his concentration had been lost. The arrow flew too high, not hitting somewhere vital. Legolas felt his heart drop. The orc stumbled, tripping. Legolas watched it fall. For a moment it seemed as if there was still hope. But it launched itself forward, the flame vanishing under the wall.

A searing heat hit the side of Legolas's head, and he felt his feet leave the ground as he was tossed away by the force of it. His body hit the stone and his limbs screamed in protest. He felt one of his hands under him, some of his fingers crack. Thankfully it wasn't his main hand, but it still would prove to be a hindrance.

His head felt fuzzy, he tried to clamber to his feet but the world spun around him. He winced, leaning against a stray lump of debris and pressing a hand to the side of his face. It came back bloody, though Legolas had to take a moment to register it. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he tried to hold back the urge to just lie down again.

Instead he stumbled to the edge of the wall, where the explosion had come from. It was mainly deserted at that part now, everyone else having run to the side. Or having been killed in the blast. He went slowly so he didn't inadvertently trip and fall to his death in the confusion.

He looked out over the middle of the outer wall, or what remained of it. Which was to say, nothing. There was now nothing in between the ground level and the field outside. Nothing stopping them entering. Legolas reckoned they had maybe three minutes at most before they would be fully overrun.

Bodies littered the ground, most disfigured beyond recognition. Legolas half didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the faces, recognise them. Knowing that it was his fault. That he'd caused it. That he'd killed them.

He was about to turn away, about to collapse onto his knees, do something other than have to see the wreckage any longer. But one of the bodies caught his eyes.

No.

Please no.

He recognized the darker colours, the ones which almost blended in with the mud. Aragorn. A yell came unbidden from his mouth. He felt simultaneously like he wanted to collapse or scream. He caused it. He'd killed him. He'd let his insecurities take over and in doing so had killed Aragorn. No. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

Aragorn had died thinking that Legolas was annoyed at him. That Legolas didn't see his worth. He'd died when they hadn't time to make up, time to do everything. Legolas had yet to tell him everything, tell him how he felt. Explain what he actually meant. How in no way he doubted Aragorn. Just loved him enough to not want to see him dead. And now all of his nightmares were coming true and the only person he could blame was himself.

He let out another yell. He bit down hard on his lip and closed his eyes, body trembling. He couldn't do this. He couldn't cope. It was too soon, so soon, far too soon. He couldn't lose him again. He'd just got him back. He'd only just accepted that he was alive and now he'd been torn away again.

But then, Legolas almost missing it through his unshed tears, Aragorn moved. It was only a small movement, him turning over onto his back. But he moved nonetheless. Legolas felt his breathing pick up. He was alive. Still alive.

The grief made way for a sharp focus, Legolas pushing everything else aside. They had maybe two minutes left. Two minutes to get in, get Aragorn, and get out. Pushing away his feeling so quickly made him feel almost light-headed, but there was no time for grief. He had to go now.

He began to climb down the half ruined steps, slipping on the wet stone. He didn't dare jump, even in a fully healthy state it would've been risky. Instead he stumbled down, sliding along the rock. He fell to his knees at the bottom and his arms struggled to push him up, pain racing up them. But he made himself get up and stand. He began running sluggishly over the mud. Both of his ears were still ringing from the noise earlier, and he couldn't balance very well. But somehow he made it over to Aragorn and fell down beside him.

Gently, but quickly, he rolled Aragorn over, pressing his fingers against his neck to see if he could find a pulse. Breathing a sigh of relief, some of the fear lifted off of his chest as he felt it's slow beat. He didn't have long to consider it though, and looking up he saw the beginnings of the army start to trickle in through the hole in the wall. There was no way he'd be able to drag Aragorn out of there in time, not while defending them both. Instead his hands reached for his knives, his bow would become useless very quickly.

But before he had time to stand, he heard a shout from above. Gimli stood, not far from where Legolas had been minutes before, looking down at them both. He saw that he had caught Legolas's eye and motioned for him to get out of there. Then, without hesitating, he launched himself off of the wall and onto the first of the intruding orcs. Legolas stared at him, momentarily stunned. But then Gimli yelled again, and Legolas could make out the words even through the ringing and fogginess in his head.

"Get out of here. Take Aragorn and go!"

Legolas nodded slowly, forcing his arms to move. He grabbed Aragorn's arm, wishing he had the liberty of the time to be gentle, and slung it around his shoulders, wincing as his arm protested. He struggled to find purchase on the mud, but managed to hoist both himself and then Aragorn into a more upright position. And then, squinting through the rain, he took slow steps towards the inner stronghold.

If only Aragorn had listened. If Aragorn had just stayed inside then none of this would've happened.

But none of it would have happened if Legolas had managed to take down the orc before he'd got the fire to the wall. If he'd managed to be competent at the one thing he was meant to be competent at. Or even if he'd managed to convince Aragorn to stay. Maybe then his confidence would have been stronger. He would've managed.

But he had failed. And now he had to grit his teeth through the pain and through the guilt. The rest of their troops had managed to organise themself now, and joined the fray which Gimli had started. Legolas knew that they wouldn't be able to hold it for any large amount of time, but he hoped it would be enough for him to get Aragorn away. The hole was too large, they didn't have enough soldiers to fully defend it.

Aragorn was heavy, and with their clothing sodden and weighed down with mud and water, Legolas soon found it unbearable to move. If his legs gave way he feared he would not be able to stand again. And then they'd be pretty much out in the open. So Legolas shouldered more weight, and continued half-dragging half-carrying Aragorn across the ground.

It was slow, and within less than a minute Legolas could hear the cries of orcs grow close as they began to breach the first wall. Théoden was calling for them to retreat, somewhere high above the chaos. But Legolas couldn't speed up, he didn't have the strength to do so. And then there were the stairs, he did not know how he'd manage to climb them before they were surrounded.

Legolas was so immersed in walking that he didn't even notice when something came up behind them. Usually he would've picked up the noise from a great distance, but now he only just managed to duck down in time, both he and Aragorn falling the floor. The axe swung above their heads, and Legolas cried out as he fell onto his injured arm.

He tried to reach for one of his knives, even as it dawned on him that he'd never manage to defend them in time. Instead he shuffled so that his body covered Aragorn's. The least he could do would be defend him until his dying breath.

He waited to feel the blow, not even bothering to think about anything except the current situation. He was too tired, his mind too fuzzy. He didn't have the energy nor the willpower to think about his life, everything he might have be been missing. Instead he just waited for the pain and then the nothingness.

But the blade never fell, instead Legolas heard a deafening clank of metal on metal right above his head. He didn't move, hardly daring to breath frozen in place. A far off noise of yelling, and then a gentle but urgent hand on his shoulder. Legolas turned over, and saw Haldir crouching next to him.

"Legolas!"

Legolas saw his lips move. But by now the blow to his head was setting in again. Everything felt off. He could hear, but everything became confused in his mind. His vision started to go black and white again, consciousness slipping from him.

A sharp blow to his face brought back some clarity, and Legolas opened his eyes, the pain stinging his cheek. Haldir was pulling him up, telling him to move again. Legolas nodded, breathing heavily. Haldir then bent down and helped to hoist Aragorn up, putting one arm over Legolas's shoulder and the other arm over his own. But he still held his curved blade in the other, trying to fight off the orcs which had started to appear more frequently.

It was a lot faster when moving with the two of them, but every time they were attacked they had to stop, Haldir fighting the creatures off while Legolas swayed under Aragorn's weight. And then they continued.

They were just within reach of the stairs, so close to the doors that Legolas began to feel as if they might actually make it. But then Legolas felt Haldir's help disappear, and he glanced back to find the other elf fighting off an orc. That wasn't what struck terror in Legolas's heart.

It was the one directly behind Haldir, jagged blade poised to strike. Legolas cried out a warning, knowing it would be too late. Forced to watch as the blade cut through a weaker point in the armour, Legolas saw Haldir's eyes widen in surprise, and then disbelief. The elf staggered, and for a moment Legolas thought that he was going to fall there and then, leaving him and Aragorn open to attack and with no means of defense.

But Haldir looked up again, and raising his arms slashed around in a wide arc. The orcs must not have expected it, because they raised no defence. They probably thought that Haldir would never have managed it.

Legolas couldn't dwell on the small victory however, not while he watched Haldir fall to into the mud, eyes barely focused. A crushing realisation dawned on him. He couldn't save him. He couldn't save both him and Aragorn. Even if he'd been at full health, he wouldn't have been able to. But he couldn't just leave Haldir. He didn't want to leave Haldir. He didn't want to leave him outside, he didn't want to let him become yet another of the nameless faces which littered the ground.

Yet he had no choice. He had no say. It was get all three of them killed, or give his best efforts to save two of them. And he knew what Haldir would want, though his heart begged otherwise.

So, with a last devastated glance at his fallen friend, he grasped Aragorn more tightly, dragging him along more roughly now. He had little remaining strength, but he threw his back into it. Aragorn's legs would certainly be scraped by the time he woke up.

If he woke up.

Legolas didn't let that thought go any further, shaking his head. He'd had enough scares for one day. He realized now that he'd reached the stairs, one which lead up to a back entrance. He clutched at Aragorn, become increasingly aware of the lack of consistent breaths. Using the last of his strength, every last bit he could gather, he began to climb.

Every part of his body was crying for relief now, but he was spurred on by the thought of rescue. If only they could get to the top.

They passed the spot where they had argued earlier. Legolas spared little thought to it other than registering the fact. He wondered briefly how much easier things might have been if they'd just resolved the fight differently.

Almost there. Legolas heard yells coming from behind him, closer by the second. He also thought he heard Gimli somewhere, he hoped that the dwarf had managed to make it out okay. His respect had doubled in the wake of the events.

They finally reached the top, Legolas letting out a strangled yell as his legs threatened to collapse under him. But he continued to move.

Using his shoulder he pushed one of the doors open. He didn't think he could safely move his arm anymore without passing out. A warm light half-blinded him as he forced his way in, and he was distinctly aware of weapons being pointed at them. But then he heard Théoden's voice, calling for them to be let past.

At the noise, and the light, and the knowledge that they were, at least for now, safe, Legolas let his knees buckle and fell forward into blackness.

A/N: I really want to do a sequel to this one, so that might be in the next chapter. I feel like we need more of a resolution where I can make them happy again.

Have a lovely day/night!