General Ramblings: We are nearing the end, my friends. :sob: It's been so long, but it's not the end yet! We've yet a few more chapters, and who knows, I could be attacked by the :shudders: PLOT BUNNIES! Happy Fourth of July everybody! (Well, all of the Americans, at least.)

Disclaimer: I DO owns a cool pencil, precious! No… wait… I gave it away. This was more of a claimer, wasn't it?

Thanks to my beta Faerlain, for editing my chapter! She's a great beta and very enthusiastic about it! She deserves a ton of credit! So here's my acknowledgment to the beta who, all too often,gets forgotten.

Thanks also to my friend the Acorn King (hehe)for looking over the chapter as well andto all the reviewers and the reviews you gave, lol. FFnet is taking stories for the smallest things, so I am not going to reply to reviews, but thanks!

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Chapter 16: Arrogance and Madness

Arrogance and Madness
It is said they are the same
For the price of death
Both have been the blame

Once fallen into either trap
Almost certain death lies ahead
One may attempt to correct it
But that's hard when one is dead

Arrogance and madness
Is arrogance mad?
Or is madness arrogant?
Either way, neither good but bad

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The silence was deafening.

Legolas stared at the forest floor beneath him, far from the tree he sat in. Though trees normally gave him the peace he now sought, he found only memories. Memories he would rather not have memory of. Twirling a mellyrn leaf in his hands, his sapphire eyes, touched with silver, stared sadly across the forest. The silver veins etched into the golden leaf reminded him strongly of his home; a home he feared he would never see again. The threat of Saruman hung ominously over his head… the threat not that he would be captured again, but of revenge; a revenge he feared that would be extracted not upon himself, but upon his friends—upon Estel.

This was why Legolas had to push his friends away; if he convinced himself not to care about them, they would grow to despise him. Once achieved, they would be safe—not only from the White Wizard, but from Legolas, too.

He had come to this tree in hopes that he might clear his mind and think, but all that was penetrating his mind was the visions granted to him before Saruman's nightmare cast upon his mind. Those visions of Aragorn dead—and not because of mortality—had given him more nightmares than Saruman could ever give.

Yet the blood… the blood that no one else could see. The wounds on his back were as clear as day, yet no one else could see them. The pain was just as sharp as the visual, as well. Even now, his wounds throbbed. Yet, upon Aragorn's medical explanation, Legolas had not spoken of it again. He knew they were there, that they were not just a "hallucination" as Aragorn had put it so kindly.

A shaft of light drifted through the trees, reflecting the beauty of the Galadhrim. That same beauty, which Legolas had once dreamt of glimpsing, now dead in his eyes, seemed to mock his own existence. Legolas resisted the urge to laugh bitterly; his life mocked his very existence if he could even call it that.

Legolas suddenly turned his head, it was not a sound that caught his attention, but the very presence of his brother that resonated throughout his sharp senses.

"Legolas?" called Aragorn, his voice subdued with sadness.

Legolas could not seem to bring himself to scorn his friend, not yet. Not ever, said some small part of his mind, that small part which still belonged to him and not to his nightmares.

"Ay, Estel?" Legolas responded, his voice weary and heavy with sorrow. The grief was choking him and, as he stared into his friend's concerned eyes, he felt he could not lie to him. Aragorn was suffering because of his own sick depression; an illness he had before blamed on Saruman. He now found he could only blame himself. Legolas could not play these mind games, where he pushed Estel away without telling him why.

"I came that I might speak with you," said the ranger, from below. In the silver robes that the Elves of the Galadhrim had clothed him in, the human now looked regal. "Are you well enough, mellon-nín?"

At the last two words Aragorn spoke, Legolas found his grief beginning to overwhelm him and knew he had to tell Aragorn now. Legolas jumped lightly to the ground, but stumbled as he hit the forest floor. A tinge of pink touched his cheeks, but his embarrassment quickly dissipated as he remembered what he was about to do.

"Estel… I… I am sorry," began Legolas.

"It is fine, my friend," said Aragorn with a small smile. "As long as you are fine."

"No, Estel… Aragorn, you do not understand. I apologize for what I am to do. I can only hope that you will one day forgive me."

Confusion shone in Aragorn's eyes. "What are you speaking of…?" began the human, but Legolas interrupted.

"We have to end it," continued Legolas, softly. "Our friendship will only cause you pain, and possibly death."

Somewhere in his mind, Legolas realized how ridiculous it sounded, but the thoughts were quickly pushed down. His heart was being torn apart at the very thought of losing Aragorn; he half hoped that the human would protest and make them stay friends. The thought of life without Aragorn was already breaking his heart, and Legolas felt unwanted tears prick at his eyes. He swallowed thickly, barely finding the strength to keep the tears from falling.

Aragorn stepped back from Legolas, betrayal in his eyes. "Does our friendship mean so little to you, my prince? Have you so little faith in all we have survived together? I had thought we could make it through this together, I really did. When I first met you, I thought you selfish and haughty. It seems I was wrong to change my opinion. I'm only sorry it had to end this way, Legolas. Farewell, my friend."

Every word spoken was like a knife to Legolas' heart, but he knew he had brought this upon himself. Aragorn left the clearing.

Legolas stood silently, tears finally being shed. "Goodbye, my brother…"

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The Fellowship's time in Lothlórien passed quickly, all too quickly for nearly everyone's taste.

The Fellowship was preparing to leave, but Lady Galadriel had pulled Legolas aside as they were filling the boats with provisions. It had been a long and lonely time for Legolas and he had spent much time in the woods with Gimli, strangely enough. Saruman did not know of Legolas' friendship with the Dwarf and, indeed, would never suspect Thranduil's son of ever becoming friends with a Dwarf; hence why he spent his time with him. He found that Gimli was actually good company, contrary to what his father had told him of Dwarves.

"Legolas, Sauron is still searching for the Ring. He will never stop."

"I know, my lady, and I will do what I must," responded Legolas.

The Lady of the Wood gazed compassionately at the young elf before her. In her eyes shone the wisdom of many years, and a love that seemed deeper than the sea.

"No matter what may come?" questioned Galadriel, already knowing the answer.

"I've already made the greatest sacrifice," said Legolas softly. "What more may come will prove its worth to fight battles for. Frodo and his quest are indeed worth it to fight for."

Galadriel nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. "I have faith in you, princeling; have faith in yourself. Namárie, may the blessing of the Wood be bestowed upon on you and may the Valar watch you always."

Legolas inclined his head. "I thank you, my lady."

He bowed once more and walked towards the boats, carefully avoiding Aragorn's gaze. He held his new bow; the one Galadriel had given him, and wondered briefly what Est… Aragorn had received. His curiosity then fell to Gimli. What gift would a Dwarf receive from the Elves?

As the Fellowship began their journey down the Anduin, Legolas at last spoke to Gimli, finally asking the question that had lingered in his mind.

"What was it… that she gave you?"

Legolas, without even needing to look, knew that as Gimli answered, a smile was upon his face.

"I asked for one hair from her golden head… she gave me three."

Legolas smiled slightly at the wistful tone in Gimli's voice. Dwarves were a sturdy folk and Legolas, for one, never thought he would hear one speak in such a tone, especially not about an Elf.

The day dawned clear and cool for their departure and with the swiftly flowing current, it did not take long to reach their destination. Yet as beautiful as the day was, Legolas could not help but feel uncertain. A shadow lingered in his mind… that threat that something was to go wrong. He had felt it without even knowing it that fatal day he had been captured.

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After Aragorn spoke, Legolas gathered the courage to speak with him for the first time since their "chat".

"We should leave now," said Legolas in low tones, so that the human would not hear the way his voice trembled with grief. Something flashed in Aragorn's eyes, but was gone too quickly for Legolas to decipher what it was.

"No," said Aragorn firmly, "Orcs patrol the Eastern shore. We must wait until nightfall. Night's cloak will cover us whilst we escape."

"It is not the Eastern shore that worries me," persisted Legolas. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind."

"Are you sure that's not just Saruman?" said Aragorn, bitterly, his words like daggers cutting through Legolas' heart.

Sam suddenly spoke. "Where will we go after this, Strider? I always thought Gandalf would show us…"

"Grievous is our loss," said Legolas. "Yet we must make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo?"

"We, of course," said Gimli suddenly, "were only sent to help the Bearer along the road, to go no further than we wished; and none of us is under any oath or command to seek Mount Doom. Hard was my parting from Lothlórien. Yet I have come so far, and I say this: now we have reached the last choice, it is clear to me that I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him."

"And I too will go with him," said Legolas. "It would be faithless now to say farewell." Faithless now to say farewell… The words echoed in Legolas' mind, mocking him. "Have you so little faith… Farewell, my friend…" Legolas could hear Aragorn's voice repeating the words. Suddenly Aragorn really did speak. "It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him," said Aragorn. "But if he goes east, then all need not go with him; nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions: Sam, who could not bear it otherwise, and Gimli; and myself."

Though Legolas did not show it on his face, Gimli saw the hurt dimly in the elf's clear sapphire-silver eyes. Yet as quickly as he saw it, the sadness disappeared and his eyes were devoid of emotion.

Aragorn continued, "Boromir will return to his own city, where his father and his people need him and with him the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us."

The barb hurt. The fact that Aragorn purposefully said such cruel things surprised Legolas, though no one else took the words as slights on Legolas' honour.

However, before Legolas could reply, Merry suddenly spoke.

"Where's Frodo?"

Legolas gazed around, fearing for Frodo, and his gaze fell upon Boromir's shield. Indeed, he thought, and where would Boromir be?

Without turning, Legolas set off in the direction of the footprints. Some few minutes later, Legolas began to hear voices.

"…Not yourself."

"You… ring to Sauron! Betray… all."

Legolas ran into the clearing. Boromir was chasing Frodo, who was stoutly running away. Terror was written as clearly in Frodo's startlingly large blue eyes as madness was written in Boromir's. Legolas could almost see the One Ring smouldering.

"Run Frodo!" cried Legolas. "Find Aragorn!"

The frightened hobbit nodded and ran.

Legolas pulled out his bow and notched an arrow, determined to end this fight before it began and bring Boromir back to his senses. However, his confidence that his arrows consistently hit his mark, and that Boromir knew that, cost him, for Boromir was not himself, as Frodo had said earlier. The man of Gondor had no fear of Legolas' arrows and charged the elf, surprising him and the man knocked the bow from Legolas' hands.

Arrogance, Legolas heard the voice of his old mentor recite in his head, is the price many of the best warriors pay for death. Don't let yourself fall into that trap, elfling, you are far too clever for that. Never be sure of your skill; never be sure of another's capabilities to take advantage of your arrogance.

Legolas smiled mirthlessly, twice now he had fallen into that trap. This would be the second and the last, because if he did not reform his actions after this, it would mean he was dead. Pulling out his blades, Legolas stepped back into a fighting stance.

Madness could not be reasoned with.