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Aragorn felt his frustrations mounting higher; why had he done what he did? Why had he overreacted as irrationally as he did – his temper always got the better of him, he had learned this lesson harshly throughout his childhood. He had come to accept that no matter the amount of discipline, it would somehow seep through – and here it had, ruining whatever last moments he had had with Legolas. The Man violently kicked a rock, his anger directed towards himself, yearning more than anything to turn back the hands of time and undo his rash behavior.

He had lost the Elf with his idiocy – regret and pain flowed insurmountably through his veins. Perhaps Legolas does not favor Haldir, perhaps he does, but he was never mine to own, the thoughts raged within the Man's head. Legolas was the one to initiate the kiss. Legolas was the first one to break away. He was all alone for the first time in a while – alone with the harsh reality of his thoughts.

Aragorn was now warring with the idea of going back to the Elven Prince, or continuing back to where he started from. He admitted to himself that his life would never return to the way it was especially without giving Legolas the chance to fathom how he felt. He knew he had to turn back; kicking his heels into his horse, he was soon flying over the grassy plains. But it was not fast enough for the Ranger. Soon the White Horse Tavern loomed into sight. Dismounting as fast as he could near the stables, he noticed Legolas' horse was missing. A quick word with the innkeeper confirmed that Legolas and Haldir were on their way to Lothlorien. The Ranger now guided his horse on to the southern route in hopes of finding them. He did not know what he was to say when he found the Prince, or if it was too late, but he was not going to allow that to deter him any further. Aragorn could see their tracks on the muddy road clearly now, as fresh as the morning sun – he spurred his horse on faster.

Hearing the clash of steel upon steel intermingling with the growls of Orcs, Aragorn tugged on the reins to slow down. As his hand moved to his scabbard to unsheathe his sword, wary of wandering unnecessarily into a band of Orcs, he saw the golden hair flying in the wind amongst the Orcs. Legolas. Aragorn dimly noted another pale-haired Elf struggling to slay the beasts. Aragorn jumped down from his horse, not wishing for the animal to come to any harm, and sprinted towards the fight.

As Aragorn entered the fray, many of the Orcs raced to meet him – he answered their attacks with his sharp blade. They were outnumbered by close to a thirty Orcs. But the Ranger knew, however, that training and discipline was on their side whereas the Orcs relied simply on brute force. Aragorn used this to his advantage, nimbly dodging attacks and darting away causing the Orcs to expend more of their energy and tire faster. He slowly drew the majority away from the two Elves. He slashed viciously, ducking down and cutting at their unarmored legs. As he brought himself up, for half a heartbeat he caught a glimpse of Legolas and it seemed that Legolas, too, was noticing Aragorn's presence for the first time. The Elf froze where he stood and this mistake cost him, the Orc he was battling laid his sword into Legolas' side.

"NO!" roared Aragorn, blood pounding in his veins he saw the Elf drop his sword and sink to the ground. The Man hacked mercilessly at those surrounding him, fearing naught for his own life. His only aim being to reach Legolas' side. Haldir, too, had realized and was driving the enemy away as fast as he could. Aragorn felt as if his feet were stuck and struggling in mud for the time it seemed to take to get to the young Prince. He finally reached the Elf, the beast that had cut him was about to deliver a fatal blow when Aragorn parried it with his own sword – forcing the Orc back. As soon as the Orc lost his footing, the Man raised his sword and beheaded him in a single blow.

Turning around, he knelt by Legolas who had now gone extremely pale, as a deep crimson blossomed within his tunic; the sight of this woke a fear deep within Aragorn, threatening to disarm him of all his senses. The Man tore at the fabric, inhaling deeply as he surveyed the red cut which marred Legolas' otherwise flawless alabaster body. The wound was a deep gash which began at the hip and travelled all the way up to his ribs. The Ranger's hands shook as the fear started to spread, I am a healer of the Dunedain,he had to remind himself. But it seemed like another lifetime ago; in this very instant Aragorn felt like a helpless child with little idea of what he was to do.

Legolas gazed up at him, a weak smile on his lips, "What wind blew you this way, Aragorn?"

"Legolas, I –"

Before the Man could continue, Haldir was at his side, speaking feverishly in Elvish, "What can you do for him, Ranger?"

Aragorn knew this wound could not be healed by him alone. "Lorien is too far, we need to get Legolas to Rivendell as fast as our horses can take us."

The March-warden nodded grimly, "Let us make haste then."

Aragorn prayed that Legolas would have the strength to last the two day journey to Rivendell. He could not allow himself to think otherwise.