Note: I used lyrics from the Evanescence song Tourniqut which I found a most befitting addition and insparation.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, raced down the halls of Mirkwood. Sweat soaked his clothes and plastered his dark hair to his face.

The normally lively halls were silent and he could fell the worry in the air, making it thick and it made it even harder to breath than it already was.

As he neared the doors of his friend Legolas’ room his heart sped up. The elf prince had been lost, captured my orcs, and it seemed all of Mirkwood had been searching for him. Which was probably true.

As he had crossed the courtyard he had noticed that the trees seemed to be covered with a dark mist, for as most knew, Legolas dearly loves the forest and it in turn loved him.

The young Ranger had been searching for his friend with his elven brothers when he had met up with a messanger from Mirkwood bearing knews that Legolas had been found. Aragorn had almost felt relief. But the feeling was as fleeting as a soft breeze stirring the window hangings on a summer’s day.

The messanger had told that Legolas was in critical condition and it was almost certain that he would not live, and if he did he would never be the same.

Aragorn had then headed full speed for the Halls of King Thranduil, desperate to be with is elven friend.

Now as he sped down the hall, memories came ruching back, visions of the young prince of Mirkwood. His face filled the young Ranger’s mind. The light that had filled the elf’s blue eyes as he grinned at his human friend. The wind tugging at his long golden locks and sending them into a frenzy around his face.


Now his voice filled Aragorn’s ears, speaking his elven name.


That had been the last time he had seen his friend before he had left for his home in Rivendell.

“Come and visit me soon Estel…”

Aragorn could remember that moment so clearly.

“I’ll wait for you…” The prince had spoken so quietly. A whisper meant for the rangers ears only.

“I’ll come back.” Now it was his voice. He had turned his horse towards the forest and with one last look at Legolas he vanished into the trees.

The vision faded from his mind but Legolas’ voice lingered.

“I’ll wait for you…”

Aragorn stumbled and fell against the wall. He stayed there, trying to catch his breath. It was all a blur after that, the news of the dissapearance, the frantic search, the felling of cold dread that had encased his heart. Now that feeling had increased tenfold.

He turned and leaned against the wall calming himself. It was no use, he was so scared.

So scared.


I tried to kill the pain
But only brought more
I lay dying
And I’m pouring crimson regret and betrayal
I’m dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?


Legolas had stopped screaming long ago but Thranduil was sure that the sound was burned permanently into his memory.

The healers had long ago left. They could do no more for Legolas, his pain ran too deep for them to numb it.

The elven king shut his eyes as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He clung to his son’s pale hand as if he was clinging to the boy’s very life force.

So many tears had he shed they had burned permanent paths down his face. This was his child, this was his blood, they were his screams echoing throughout the chamber, the light was his. Everything Legolas felt he felt also.

At last he opened his eyes, only to be greated with the horrific sight of his son in so much pain.

When they had found him Thranduil’s heart had been crushed. The feeling of helplessness had overwhelmed him. The Legolas he had known was gone, in it’s place was an empty being. The kind and loving soul had been replaced by the utmost suffering.

Legolas’ body had been covered with blood, all of it his own. He lay face down in the dark, dirty cell, a crimson pool forming beneath him. His clothes had been so torn that there was barely nothing left of them and his shining golden hair had been slashed of at his ears and was tainted with blood.

Thranduil had ran to him and gathered the young elf in his arms, not careing about the blood that stained his tunic and cloak. So much blood.

Legolas’ blood.

Legolas lay in his bed, silently weeping. Coming back to himself Thranduil ran his hand down the side of his son’s face, careful not to disturb the healing cuts. There were so many.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

He was so suprised to hear Legolas’ voices that he jerked. It was Legolas’ voice, yet it wasn’t. It was broken, weak, and soft. Not the voice he was used to hearing either speaking to him of anything and everything or raised in song.

“What?” He asked confused.

“I-I should ha-have fought har-harder…”

Thranduil leaned foreward. “No. No this was not your fault, you hear me, don’t blame yourself nin ion.” Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to comfort his tortured son. But it was as if Legolas had not heard him..

“I-I sh-should h-have. I’m s-sorry.”

“No…” Thranduil sobbed shaking his head. “No…”

“Th-they did things to me. I-I was s-so sc-scared.” It was true. The orcs had done terrible things to the young elf. He was sure that every possible torture device had been used. His blood had flowed so often that he had stopped trying to heal himself.

They had burned him, beat him, wipped him, cut him, poisoned him, and raped him. This they had done often. Legolas no longer felt, he was empty, broken, and so alone. No one could help his pain.

Bringing himself closer, Thranduil wrapped his strong arms around the young elf and helf him close. He could feel his son shaking as he wept, his tears soaking the king’s clothes much as his blood had when they had found him.

“I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, it’s all right Legolas. It’s all right my son.” He soothed. Of course he knew that all was not all right. But the words comforted him and he hoped that they could bring some light, however small, into Legolas’ dark and cold existance.


Legolas’ voice was so small, it reminded Thranduil of the small elfling that had been woken up by nightmares and had sought comfort in his father’s bed.

This only brought him more pain so he shut out those thoughts and focused all his love and comfort on the child in his arms.

His child.

His Greenleaf.

Thranduil’s fingers drifted through Legolas short hair once again lost in his own thoughts. He suddenly felt the young elf fall limply agianst him and he pulled back, fear filling his heart that his son had left him.

To his relief, breath still escaped from Legolas’ lips,shallow and raspy though it was.

There was a knock on the thick wooden door but the Elvenking did not rise or even acknowledge the small disturbance. The sound came again and with a sigh Thranduil relenquished his hold on Legolas, laying him back onto the bed and drawing the covers up onto the boys chest.

He crossed swiftly to the door and opened it finding himself faced with the young Ranger from Rivendell. He looked as if he had just been through fifty battles, and lost them all.

Aragorn looked desperately at the King but when he tried to speak his voice caught in his throat.

“Is-is Legolas…” he gasped.

Thranduil nodded gravely and stepped aside opening the door further. Aragorn slipped inside and his eyes drifted to the bed in which lay his friend.

Aragorn’s breath left him in one great rush and he felt as if someone had socked him in the stomach. He turned to gaze once more upon the Elvenking but the elf had silently slipped from the room and reluctantly closed the door and Aragorn could still hear him in the hall outside.

He stood motionless for a moment his gaze locked on Legolas still form on the bed. Then, as if in a dream he walked slowly to Legolas’ bedside, dropped to his knees beside it and grabbed the elf’s hand. It felt cold and clammy.

He tried to speak but the the sight of his friend stole his voice and threw it to the cold north wind. This was Legolas laying in front of him but somehow it was not Legolas. It was as if the real Legolas was still wandering around in the woods, his hand running over the tree trunks and his face lifted towards the bright sun.

As much as he wanted to believe that Aragorn knew that what was happening now was real and in his heart there burned the knowledge that would never leave him.

He had failed Legolas.

Legolas’ dark lashes flutered suddenly and slowly his eyes opened. As if he sensed the Ranger there beside him he turned his head to face the man.

Aragorn didn’t know whether he expected to see the Legolas he had always known in his friends once beautiful blue eyes but whatever he had expected it wasn’t what he saw.


Do you remember me
Lost for so long
Will you be on the other side
Or will you forget me
I’m dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved
Am I too lost?



Legolas’ eyes were dead. Robbed of the light that once filled them as the reflection of the moon fills the lake water at night. One look into those empty debths was all it took to send Aragorn to the brink of thears.

No. He had to be strong for his friend. Legolas had suffered more than he and there was no sign of tears in his eyes.

All at once the rangers voice seemed to vanish though he doubted he could find anything to say at this moment.

“Estel.” Legolas was looking directly into his eyes, but Aragorn was afraid to meet the elf’s gaze, afraid that Legolas would be looking at him with anger. Did the elf hate him for being too late? The ranger turned his eyes toward the window and pretended to be interested in what was out there.

“I don’t hate you Estel.” Like so many other times, Legolas seemed to be able to read his thoughts.

“Why shouldn’t you, I never arrived fast enough to save you from all that pain.” All the young ranger could do was feel sorry for what he hadn’t done.

A small shadow of a smile passed over Legolas’ split lips and he gave Aragorns hand a light squeeze. “Aragorn, there would have been no escaping the pain no matter what time you came. It was not your fault.”

Aragorn opened his mouth to respond but Legolas shook his head slowly.

“You can’t change the past Estel, you’re here now…” The young elf’s voice trailed away and his eyes closed.

“Legolas!” Aragorn was nearly shouting now. His friend couldn’t leave him now, not after everything.

The elf’s eyes opened again, but they were less clear, clouded with pain and agony. “I hurt Estel, and this is the kind that not even time can heal.”

Aragorn leaned closer until his face was so close to Legolas’ that his breath stirred the elven prince’s hair. “You must fight the darkness Legolas, you fought it thus far.”

A small sad sigh escaped Legolas’ lips. “I’m not who I was before Estel, nor can I ever go back.”

The young ranger jumped to his feet. letting Legolas’ hand drop back down to his side. At this motion the elf prince winced. “Please Legolas!” Aragorn was on the verge of losing control. “I’ve searched so long, fought so hard. You can’t let go.”

Legolas’ eyes clouded. “There’s so much pain Estel-”

“But you’ve gone through pain before.” Aragorn insisted.

“Aragorn,” Legolas forced the young human’s eyes on him,willing him to understand. “Not like this, never like this. I see only darkness.” Tears filled the young elf’s eyes. “I can’t live in eternal night.”

“But there can be light again.” Aragorn could not accept what his friend was saying to him. “There *will* be light.”

Legolas’ voice was so soft the ranger could barely hear it. “Not for me.” The elf closed his eyes again. “Never again.”

Anger welled up inside the Ranger, the orcs had destroyed his friend, they’d crushed the most delicate flower in life’s garden and burned it until there wwas nothing left but a chared stem which quickly dissolved into dust and was carried off in the wind.

Suddenly, Legolas’ eyes flew open, there was a strange light in them. One that Aragorn had never seen there before. It frightened the young man. Before he could do anything Legolas’ hand was wrapped around the hilt of the dagger in Aragorn’s belt and had pulled it from it’s sheath.

“No!” Aragorn cried as he stepped foreward to stay his friends hand. But the look in Legolas’ blue eyes froze him in mid-step. “No,” he whispered, disbelief evident on his face.

“I can’t live with the pain Estel, I know, deep in whatever is left of my soul that I will never live with what has been done to me.” The look in Legolas’ eyes was both determined and sad.

Aragorn shook his head. “Please Legolas… mellon nin… no.” He said this as if those very words would turn his friends mind.

“Know this Estel,” Legolas’ voice was strong as he said this, which belied all that he was feeling at the time. “I’ve never regretted being your friend and if I could change one thing, it would be that I could have had one more moment with you that day you left for Rivendell. When there was still light in my heart.”

The tears that Aragorn had fought so hard to keep in check fell from his eyes.

“Do not blame yourself for all this Estel, one day darkness will be detroyed forever in Middle-Earth and your destiny will be fulfilled. I’m just sorry I won’t be there to see it.”

“You could be.” Aragorn was still clinging to a very thin thread of hope.

At that moment their eyes met. Blue and silver locked and all at once Aragorn knew that it was for the last time. Gazing down upon his friends broken body he tried to convince himself of that fact, but his heart would not accept it.

The light in Legolas’ eyes burned brighter at that moment. His voice was sure as he spoke that words that would haunt Aragorn’s dreams for a long time to come.

“I want this.”

The dagger came down and pierced the immortal heart of the elven prince of Mirkwood. Not a sound escaped him for he felt no more pain. His body went limp and his eyes fell shut, giving the ranger one final look into their sapphire debts.

For a moment Aragorn stood there, tears cascading from his silver eyes, his mind refusing to take what had just taken place as true.

Legolas, his long-time friend was dead.


My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for deliverance
Will I be denied Christ
My suicide


The door to the chamber opened and the King of Mirkwood entered, no emotion played across his noble features. He merely stood there. Gazing upon the body of his son and nothing else.

How long they stayed thus is hard to say but as they did, a strange wind blew through the forests of Mirkwood. Whispers ran through every leaf and flower and the sun seemed to grow a little dimmer. But it didn’t last, a feeling of rejoicing filled the air for the spirit that was finally free.

The spirit of Legolas Geenleaf, Son of Thranduil, Prince of Northern Mirkwood was free.

Finally free.


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