I understand that Legolas is older than them, however I like the little brother role he plays in this story. And if you think about it by human standards he is younger than the others. I say he's about 20 in this story.

well, anyways. Chapter 3 up! please enjoy! and review.

That night Legolas struggled to draw back the heavy blankets that imprisoned him on his bed. He couldn't hide the agony on his face as his wound was splitting in pan at the strain. He managed to swing naked feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold floor, stumbling to the chair which his clothes were draped over.

His head spun, the wound there too was painful.

The room was dark and empty, Legolas was alone. He had managed to fool Aragorn into believing he was fast in slumber and the healer had left, satisfied that Legolas would be making no journey tonight.

The elvenprince though, had other plans entirely.

Standing naked in his room he managed to dress slowly, the moon glowing on his skin. A small sensation on his temple startled him and Legolas brought his fingertips up to brush at it, it had been a small bead of sweat that rolled down his brow. It was uncharacteristic for elves to sweat and yet the prince wasn't surprised he was as his body was trembling in exhaustion and from pain.

He finally pulled on his last boot and straightened, fully dressed. His breath was labored and he wrapped his hand around his wounded shoulder, pressing on it so that the pain became a numb throb.

He took a quick brush to his hair and tied it back with a black ribbon, tightly. Not a single hair fell loose.

With a sweep of what seemed like a shadow a black cloak was flung around his shoulders painfully and fastened with a broach. Unfortunately the movement made him breathless and he stumbled as the world tilted dangerously.

He pulled himself tall into a standing position. Hand still lingering in his shoulder and made his way towards the door.

A mirror stopped him.

He had caught his reflection from the corner of his keen eyes, and couldn't resist to look.

He wore the outfit had had been wounded in, the blood, although now dried clung there. He hadn't realized how much he had truly lost until now. The blood was a dull stain as someone, probably one of the hobbits, had tried to wash his shirt.

Aragorn had told him of the Fellowships reunion here, and Legolas had cursed his fate, this was a difficulty.

The only difference to his clothes now were that he wore a black cloak, and his hair was unusually pulled back. It made him look older.

His weary fingers shook slightly as he fingered the hole where the arrow had pierced his tunic, it was crudely stitched, by no doubt the dwarf. The stitches were made by large, rough hands. The sewing was awful, sewing with what may as well might have been a stick rather than a needle.

"This is a fine example of boasted dawrven craftsmanship" he teased to the mirror. But they were careful stitches and caring. A small smile itched his lips.

No doubt it had burned the dwarf's pride to be seen sewing. "Bless you, Gimli. I shall treasure this."

He placed his hand back to his wound and grimaced through his smile. He truly was hiding a secret, it ate at his mind like a scavenging Orc.

He swung a satchel over his shoulder.

He was a dreadful pale, dark circles encasing his lower eyes. He was far from his usual perfection.

The elvenprince finally crept into the hall, leaving his crown glittering at his bedside.

Where he journeyed he would be prince Legolas no more.

Gimli sat slumbering at the base of the stair. Ax folded in his hands spanning across his lap. His beard ruffled in his snores, head bobbing at his chest. He noticed the ploy immediately, Gimli guarded the injured prince from assassins. But the fact his guard was fast asleep gave Legolas no peace. The elf chuckled, but was cut short by a stab of pain.

He felt something inside him twinge in fear, he wished he had his royal guard here with him.

The truth was over the last four months after his father had fallen ill, several assassination attempts had been made on the young prince. Sometimes up to three times a day, in all ways imaginable.

His royal guard had followed him everywhere tasting every dish and drink, checking every corner. It grew tedious and on the prince's nerves. Finally he had to get away, that was when he learned of the quest, a group some of the most prestigious elven warriors had already set out to save their king. Legolas planned to find them and join the company. But he was running out of time, soon he would have no chance of catching up.

He had snuck out to come here, his royal guard was in a worried frenzy at the palace by now, he was certain.

It had gotten to the point where a man would be standing by him even as he bathed. He could take no more of it, even as he recognized their intentions were meant well.

Legolas snuck by the dwarf, feet silent against the wood of the stair.

Suddenly the dwarf's snoring stopped with a grunt and the ax shifted, Gimli sat up looking around dazed, eyes dreary. Legolas dared not to breathe as he was caught on the stair beside the now awake guard.

The dwarf spotted him against the shadows, his eyes being used to the darkness of mines, a sly smirk dancing on his lips.

"Escaping are we, lad?" Legolas blushed in the dark, hand tightening on his wound.

"Trying is the correct word, but who could pass a fine guard like you, especially a guard with the eyes of a dwarf?" his word were sincere with praise and the two friends smiled to the darkness. With much noise the stout friend rose from the steps and took Legolas' uninjured arm leading him to a seat in the tavern. A lamp was struck, dimly casting a flickering light over the two faces.

It sparkled in the dwarf's eyes, radiating concern.

"You look in pain, how do you feel, elf?"

"I am well" Gimli followed Legolas as he sat, taking a chair of his own.

"This is the first time I've seen you with your hair up… you look older" Legolas sighed softly, running a hand over his hair, finger tips resting on the tip of his pointed ear.

"Aye…" A sad frown creased the sun hardened face of the dwarf.

"You do not have to do this alone, elf" a sturdy, roughly calloused hand patted that of the soft elf's. Legolas pulled the satchel off his shoulder and dropped it at his foot, by his chair.

"I shan't. I am meeting with a company of elves on my way"

"Yet that makes me feel no better." A pause "I am coming with you" Legolas pulled away his hand and struggled to stand facing the dwarf, slight annoyance in his gaze.

"Stubborn dwarf, I shall accept no company" Gimli waved the elf's voice away like it was smoke.

"You don't have to accept it, but you can't stop me either" the elvenprince's ice blue eyes narrowed humorously.

"Oh, can't I?" a burst of laughter bubbled past the lips of the dwarf and he too stood, holding his ax in both hands.

"Bah! I'd like to see you try, elf! For dwarfs are much more durable than your fragile race!" it was Legolas' turn to wave aside the dwarf.

"Foolhardy dwarf, your delusions of the elven race are almost as thick as those of your own!"

"You elves are all the same! Bah!" the laughter and excitement that built caused Legolas' wound to sear painfully like fire, he stumbled to his seat gasping and clutching at it, embarrassment at his weakened state erupted as a blush across his sweaty face. Gimli paused mouth dry, unsure of what to say so he too sat, silence now thick. If at all possible the silence was louder than any words, to the point it was deafening.

"I'm sorry" Gimli mumbled, "If all elves were like you then I doubt our races would hate each other as they do. I meant not what I said"

"Do not apologize, it was all in good humor… if anything, master dwarf, I will miss our jesting the most…" the indirect farewell dazed them both into a stunned silence. Tears stung in the dwarf's eyes, he blinked, desperate not to show weakness to his dearest of friends. Although many times before he had done just that.

"Legolas… you, nor your father will die-" the elf interrupted his friend with a sigh and clasped his hand over his bandage.

"-By Valor I pray you are correct and yet, both I and Lady Galadriel know that this time I shall not be spared, my dearest friend."

"What do you mean, Legolas?!" the elvenprince blinked, mind momentarily numb from the sudden shock of being called his true name by the dwarf. But he quickly recovered and shifted painfully in his seat.

"I went to see her a month or more ago to inquire about my Ada's condition. When she foretold my death… it will be upon me before the Yule." Terror was like ice in Gimli's stomach, he was unable to move. His words came in a rush.

"So soon? But that cannot be truth! She can be wrong!"

"No, Gimli. She has never been… calm, friend. Tis fate." Legolas' calm demeanor infuriated the dwarf, he slammed his fist down. Legolas did not flinch.

"Nay, I will not- I cannot accept this, you are my best friend!" Gimli blushed furiously and turned heatedly in his chair, shamed for admitting his fierce friendship with the elf. Legolas sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"Aye, Gimli…" the dwarf expected a snaky remark as usual, he braced "and you are mine." There was an awkward silence which dissolved rapidly into a consensual sadness. Both knew that this was a farewell. Although it may not be the last time they'd see each other, it was a silent understanding that this time there was no escaping fate.

As they sat in silence the dwarf's cheek twinkled with a steaming tear, he did not hide it, and although Legolas noticed he did not acknowledge it. Sparing his friend's pride.

"Oh! By the Valor…I had almost forgotten" Legolas turned witch a wince in his seat and retrieved the small shoulder-strap satchel set by his boot. It made of leather, well used as it was worn with weather and age. Cracked and creased like that of the palm of an old man. The elvenprince drew it up into his lap, slid back the flap and rummaged inside of it.

Finally he drew out a parcel the size of a small loaf of bread, wrapped in pearl white fabric and secured in brown string. He presented it to his dawrven friend who had been watching him with confusion glittering in his eyes.

"What is it?" Gimli took it from his friend's slightly trembling fingers, his eyes rested on the small tremors that ran through the hands, he realized how weak his friend truly was at present. Finally he eyed the package, it was heavier than it looked.

"Tis a gift, Master Dwarf" Legolas said simply, wrapping his fingers now around his wound once again, "I got it for you for Yule..." a final gift of farewell, no one dared to say. The elf's voice was soft as bells. Gimli sniffed disguising his emotions, that were raging with adoration for his friend, joy and heart wrenching sadness at the thought of losing him. He loosened the strings and drew apart the fabric.

It was a dagger, length from wrist to elbow, crudely made from a thin rock and wooden handle, a metal wire wrapped it together and kept it as one. In the handle's thick, hard wood was engraved 'Gimli' as if by a child.

Tears immediately leapt down the dwarf's face as he held it to his chest and let out a sob.

"Dear, kind, blessed elf!" he howled, face twisted with tears, his hands clutched it to his chest "do you realize what this is that you've brought me?"

"I do…I traveled several weeks to Moira to retrieve it for you." Gimli's mind was numb from emotion, for once speechless, he fumbled to clutch Legolas' hand in his own. He realized his friend had journeyed to the darkness he hated so vividly to retrieve it, a tedious, dangerous journey. For him.

"I do not know what to say…"

"…Then say nothing, Mellon Nin. You see, I knew the death of your cousin was a tragedy which hurt you very much. And the orcs whom killed him left nothing of his to take and to treasure as a token of remembrance. So I retrieved this dagger, as I remember you telling me the story of its significance to you, on one of our travels."

Gimli's heart was painful with emotions, the dagger was a dear memory of his cousin and himself. It had been a rainy day, back when the dwarf had been very young. Much to the shame of himself and his cousin they were captured by a band of orcs on the edge of the Great Wood. Tied and beaten for days upon end, it was then his dear cousin had taught him the legends of their race and the pride that resided there.

Young Gimli had been trying to escape, even as his cousin said they could not without their weapons. He had made the dagger from a nearby rock, after straining to sharpen it day after day by scraping it on the tree, slowly it grew sharper. Then after managing to cut the ropes, that rock killed over twenty orcs that day, saving his and his cousin's life.

As a symbol of adapting, unusual for a dwarf, the stone was made into a crude dagger and worn by his cousin always, a constant reminder, that something so simple could be so useful. From then on the two had been inseparable.

Gimli's tears finally slowed, his sleeve caught the lingering tears on his cheeks, when he looked up at his friend he noticed Legolas was holding out a silver sheath as well. Gimli eyed it, it was elven made, beautiful and yet simple. He took it gently and unsure.

"If you don't mind, I've brought this sheath for it" The look it the elvenprince's eyes told the dwarf that he had made it himself "although it is elven. You see, Gimli. You are the dagger, while I am the sheath."

"What do you mean, lad?" Gimli's voice was heavy with past tears,

"While you are fighting, I will remain at your side to give you a place to return and be safe. While you are with me I will protect you, even when you are not… it is the sheath's duty" they stared at each other for a brief moment "even if I can only offer protection in your memories of me." More tears sprung to the dwarf's eyes.

"Oh, Legolas. I will treasure this, and you always. Words cannot express how you've touched me so." They shared a content moment, two friends at peace with their words. For once the jesting was put aside, honesty rang in their words. With a gentle hushing noise, Gimli slid the dagger into the sheath and fastened it around his round middle.

"And also, the sheath is much fairer than the dagger, as is the truth between dwarfs and elves. So it is only just that I'm the sheath and you are the stone." The sudden change to jesting made the two friends smile, a burst of laughter erupted from the belly of the dwarf.

"But, which is more deadly, elf? Think of that!" Legolas laughed, glowing from sweat in the dim light, his fingers tightened on his wound. Still laughing at their childish antics, Gimli somberly noticed his friend's discomfort.

Just then the door opened letting in the night and the music of crickets, it broke the friend's laughter like a stone breaking a pond. Legolas, injured as he was, could not turn and see the door, but his keen ears recognized the feet of his friends. Aragorn and Gandalf. The hobbits slept in a room upstairs.

Gimli's eyes perked and the tear was brushed away at the sight of his friends.

"Do you two ever stop arguing?" Smiles crossed over the faces of the dawrven and elven friends, like a wave breaking over the shore. Legolas waited for Gimli to turn his focus to the two newcomers before his smile vanished and he groaned lightly in pain, fingers digging into the flesh around his wound.

It would be hard enough staying on his horse, let alone staying on it in a hurried gallop.

"Nay, Aragorn. Never" Legolas felt the dwarf's eyes turning back to him and the elf faked a broad smile.

"Tis true" he said through clenched teeth. Aragorn took an empty seat at the table the two friends resided at, Gandalf followed, taking a seat of his own. The wizard reached over and placed a finger and thumb on the young elf's chin, guiding the prince's face to look at him. Their eyes met.

"You are in unspeakable agony, young Prince." Legolas pulled away lightly and shook his head to deny it "both emotionally and physically." The elf shifted uncomfortably under the gazes of his friends. As the elvenprince looked away he saw Gimli still clutching the dagger against his hip.

"Legolas, Mellon nin-" Legolas turned towards Aragorn who had laid his hand upon the elf's sleeve. Legolas interrupted him, the aura around him growing thick with anger.

"I said I was traveling tonight, Aragorn. And that is what I will do…" his voice dropped in defeat "…I can wait no longer."

"Legolas! Young fool!" Gandalf roared, slamming a fist on the table and standing so that he towered over the sitting elf. "You will to go Mirkwood and at least bid your father a farewell if you plan on going on such a suicidal quest! You owe him at least that courtesy, you ungrateful child!" Legolas' wound went numb from anger and he stood up to face the wizard, rage twisting his fair face. His pony tail swung as he grabbed the wizard's cloak and pulled the elder close to his face.

"You…you…Utinu en lokirim!" venom dripped from Legolas' mouth as he spoke, his knuckles turning white from clutching Gandalf's cloak with such force. his shoulder's shook with rage. Aragorn and Gimli stood, one on each of the elvenprince's arms to pull him back. They did not pull hard, for they remembered the wounded shoulder, they're hands rested there. Shock still from the rage so unlike the young elf.

"Legolas-"

"You do not understand! You will NEVER understand! How dare you insult me like that?!" he drew the wizard closer, eyes flashing dangerously "I am ungrateful to my father? When I go on a quest to save him? I tell him not goodbye because I am not allowed to see him and if I was he would only fade quicker from worry! Do you not think that I wish to tell my Ada farewell? My beloved father...?" Legolas' hands dropped to his sides and he let out a pitiful sound, which sounded much like a whimper.

He clutched his wound, holding back tears until he could no longer. A tear slipped free, then another. His head dropped to his chest and he stumbled to his seat dropping his face into his hands. Hiccupping from holding in his sorrow. He sniffed pitifully.

Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli, still stood where they had, staring at the elf. They shared a momentary glance, such sadness in their eyes at the sight of their crying friend. Even though only two tears fell from Legolas' lashes it was one of the only times they had seen their friend cry.

The only other time was when the sea longing began.

Aragorn walked over to the elvenprince and placed his hand on the shining hair of the elf, he petting it soothingly.

"Is it really all that ungrateful to not stay goodbye? To try and save your only family from worrying?" Legolas' voice was muffled by his hands, finally he looked up at them, eyes moist and glittering from tears, they bore into his friends souls. Such heart wrenching sadness and stress shone there. The fellowship felt their stomachs lurch in sorrow. "He's all I have left."

"Nay, lad" Gimli spoke with a sad smile "you have us as well." The dwarf fingered the sheath on his hip. Legolas sat up straighter, Aragorn's hand still on his head.

"Then I shall go to Mirkwood…one last time. I shall say farewell."

"We shall go, Legolas. All of us."

Translations:

Mellon nin- my friend

Utinu en lokirim- son of snakes

Ada- father

well, they go to Mirkwood next chapter. and Legolas is being a sexy God next chapter as well. like I mean I may have over done it a bit with the sex appeal in chapter 4, but hey it's Legolas. just keeping it real.

please give me review cookies. and tell me what you want to see, I'll try my best to incorporate it.

also should I make this a Slash between, Aragorn and Legolas? because the man does seem to be touching the elf a lot lol

Your faithful author,

EACT

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