Disclaimer: Look at the other chapters.

Warnings: ..:points above:..

Yes. Here it is. Finally. I know it took forever. Time flies.

Jealousy Wrought

Chapter Eight: Again and Again

Eildan looked at Legolas, grinning. He was his now, no doubt about it. The young elf was still out of it—there was no possible way that he would be able to save the pitiful human.

He turned back to finish the job, securing Legolas as his.

That was what he had intended, in any case.

The guard stumbled back, dropping his sword at his feet. He pulled the weapon out of his abdomen, staring at it wide-eyed, bright red blood dripping off the tip. It was one of Legolas' twin knives. But… how? He was sure the prince wasn't aware enough to make it on time to save Estel.

Slowly, he raised his gaze and found himself staring at steely silver eyes, though they were determined, they were still glazed with fever and pain. It was obvious they were having problems focusing.

He had no idea where the man had gotten the strength to sit up, let alone be able to catch him off guard like that. He didn't even know when the man had regained consciousness!

The wound was bleeding a lot, for it was deep, and he knew he wouldn't survive through the rest of the day, and night was already falling.

Estel swayed from just sitting for the few seconds it had taken to pick up the knife (the knife had fallen next to him when it had been knocked from Legolas' hand) and throw it had Eildan.

The guard knew it would be easy to kill Estel; there would be no stopping him this time. The man wouldn't have been able to defend himself a second time. However, he was quickly losing blood and becoming lightheaded. He would not last much longer. He had to get Legolas. No matter what, the elf would be his. He would come with him.

Estel's eyes opened wide when Eildan suddenly turned and lunged towards Legolas, wielding one of the elf's knives.

He forced his foggy mind to think, looking around. He knew he had but seconds, and he was in no condition to walk, let alone fight.

The grey eyes fell on to a last resort; the only thing that could possibly help. And he only had one chance. If he missed, Legolas would die.

But it was the only way.

Getting on all fours, the man crawled, gritting his teeth.

Luckily, what he was trying to reach was close and he quickly was able to close his hand around it.

Quickly turning around, he saw how close Eildan was to accomplishing his goal. He took little aim and threw the other twin knife.

All he could do was pray as he fell back, body too weak to support him any longer.

His heart was pounding in his chest, breath coming quick as he fought panic and fear.

Legolas froze when he looked up to see Eildan coming at him with his own weapon, shocked that his friend would try to kill him. He had no weapon, no mean of stopping the mad elf and no sense of mind to do anything, too stunned from the knock against the tree, and now at the second betrayal.

Suddenly, Eildan let out a gasp of pain and collapsed on to him, the knife once more falling to the ground—this time forgotten.

"Eil-Eildan…" Legolas sputtered out quietly in shock, placing his arms on either side as he supported the fallen guard. He couldn't help but feel fearful for his old friend's life, even if his own had been in danger by those very hands. It felt strange to know that, having Eildan be such a good friend for so long.

The young elf nearly stopped when he felt the knife in Eildan's back—his knife. His knife was in his friend's back.

Knowing it would be worse to pull the weapon out, Legolas left it. The elf had already lost a lot of blood and continued to.

The archer wrapped his arms around Eildan, holding him gently, closing his eyes. He ignored the crimson that came along with the embrace. He wished none of this had happened. Maybe he really shouldn't have given in to his desire towards Estel. He was sure Eildan would still be his friend, he would have lived pass this night and on.

"Eildan, forgive me," Legolas said in despair, tears threatening to fall.

Eildan's eyes were wide. What was Legolas doing? He was taunting him, holding him so close. The brown-eyed elf turned his head towards Legolas and kissed him. "You are mine," he claimed, no room for argument. "Come with me."

Legolas closed his eyes in sadness. Eildan's voice was weak and shaky; his heart clenched at the sound, though the words were filled with conviction.

Tears fell. Legolas shook his head. "No."

It caught him off-guard when pain flickered in Eildan's eyes. Then, they closed. All three knew he didn't have much longer.

"You are mine," he repeated. "How could you protect that human? How could you… betray me?"

Legolas felt his chest tighten, the pain and guilt gripping him harder. The last words cut him deeper than any knife could, for he had done just that, he realized. He had chosen to stand—and fight—against Eildan; even if it was to protect Estel. He could have done something different.

More tears fell. Words still escaped him.

"Forgive me. I'm sorry, so sorry," the archer finally said, voice choked up, throat tight.

Eildan merely continued to stare at Legolas with eyes half-accusing, half-pleading.

Legolas could do nothing, not even break the gaze that tore him to shreds. He never thought he would have a problem looking at his old friend, but now it nearly made him breakdown, threatening to push him off the precarious edge he leaned over.

Legolas tried to assure Eildan, tried to make him understand, but he knew he wasn't and, never could, get through to the stubborn guard.

Indeed, the expression in the light-brown eyes, slightly darkened by pain and the lingering jealousy, never once changed. …Until they glazed over and he went limp in Legolas' arms.

The prince pulled Eildan's lifeless body to his chest, holding him tightly as sobs wracked his body. Even with what the elder elf had attempted he still hadn't wished death upon his old friend.

He was frustrated and torn by the betrayal, his death, the exhaustion; everything was piling up.

Estel could do nothing but watch helplessly. He felt guilty for killing the elder elf; however, there was nothing else he could have done. He had been about to kill his love, and, no matter what, he could never allow that to happen.

He wished he knew what had gone through Eildan's head, to think Legolas loved him, to kiss him like that, and right in front of him. He had to admit, he had been angry when Eildan had kissed his elf. However, he was too weak to do anything. While Eildan was dying, and even now, it was like he didn't exist. He knew Legolas needed time to think and mourn. At this point, the human could barely think, or even move. All he wanted to do was comfort Legolas. He couldn't even do that. Legolas was blaming himself… for everything; things he had no control over.

"Forgive me, Legolas," Estel said in a whisper, all he could manage in his current state. He hoped Legolas would get over this. One of his best friends just died in his arms, killed by his lover. His heart cringed at the thought.

It was too hard to cling to consciousness now, and he had to let go.

He could only pray for forgiveness.

…………

Legolas still cradled Eildan, his mind numb, completely blank with all that had happened. He couldn't take anymore.

Then, he vaguely heard someone call his name. He was jolted back when he realized who had said it and what exactly had been said.

He feared the worst, and nearly lost it before forcing himself to calm down and check things out.

He laid Eildan down gently, tears stained his checks, dampened the guard's hair. After, he quickly kneeled beside Estel, his heart hammering against his chest as he checked the man's pulse, fearful of what he might find, all the while reprimanding himself for neglecting the sick, injured human... his love.

He was relieved when he found Estel still lived—beyond relieved—but his condition was worse than ever, and he was frightened that his worst nightmare might come true. There would be no hope if he were to lose Estel as well. He would fade. He was unstable enough as it was.

The archer tried to help Estel as best as he could, but could barely do anything for him; not only could he not bring himself to leave Eildan's cold body, but he found himself with not one ounce of strength, mentally and physically drained.

Hugging Estel close, he kissed the man gently and then he drifted.

The trees whispered to him.

It took him a minute to walk through the webs covering his awareness, before he was able to even open his eyes.

He blinked at the surrounding trees. What could it possibly be now? Eildan was dead. Were they trying to trick him now?

"Legolas!" someone shouted, causing said elf to jump, wide eyes searching. The voice sounded familiar, but his wearied mind couldn't focus, especially with the added shock.

Suddenly, elves shot through the leaves, stopping short at what they found.

However, one still moved forward.

"Ada," the young elf whispered in disbelief. Could he really be there…?

Thranduil fell next to Legolas, placing a caring hand on his son's face. His eyes dropped to the young man in his lap, looked to Eildan (which explained where he had gone) and then back to the archer.

"Legolas, what happened?" he questioned, at a loss.

"You are here," was all Legolas said, too shocked to say anything more.

"Aye, ion-nin, I'm here," Thranduil repeated, worry crossing his features, eyebrows furrowed. Why was the prince acting like this? What had he had through to come to this?

His eyes shifted back to Eildan.

Inwardly, he sighed.

At least he had finally found his son. He had been greatly concerned when he hadn't returned and had sent a search party soon after. He had gone with them the second time around, too worried to do anything less. He was relieved to find him well… more or less.

King Thranduil nodded towards Eildan for one of the warriors to pick him up. He didn't know the story, and was sure he wouldn't like it, but the young guard still deserved a proper burial, as far as he knew.

Then, he moved to take Estel from Legolas' hands, for it was obvious the human was in need of medical assistance, and soon. It was an incredibly good thing he had brought a healer along. His treatment would do until they got back to the palace where they would have the needed supplies. He knew he was precious to his son.

However, as soon as Thranduil got a hand under Estel, Legolas tightened his grip and nearly snarled at the king.

Immediately, Thranduil pulled his hand back like it had been stung, openly surprised by the reaction.

"Legolas," he started gently, knowing he had to be careful, "he needs a healer. Let us take a look at him."

He didn't try to get information out of the archer again. Legolas needed rest before anything. It distressed him to see his son in such a state.

And it was exactly because of that that they were unable to get the young elf to let go of the man in his arms. It took a few tries and a lot of coaxing on Thranduil's part, but they were finally able to give Legolas a sleeping herb. It had been mixed with tea and he hadn't suspected with his condition. It had been blatantly needed. The elf was a wreck.

The king pried Legolas' fingers from Estel and gently laid him down, smoothing the tangled mess of gold.

He sighed brokenheartedly.

There ya go. It sucks; I know. Don't be harsh.

Ja ne