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Legolas stared down at the human in utter horror. How could he have just frozen? He had been... unable to move. He didn't know how else to explain it, but it hadn't been purely out of fear. He knew that much.

It had been like the panic had set off some other reaction and it had hurt. He collapsed to the ground beside the human. Was his companion dead?

He checked in the only ways he knew to see if someone was alive. He rested his hand on the human's chest, but felt no rise or fall. Pressing his ear to the man's lips, he listened for breath and felt for it too.

He waited.

Nothing.

But... there! A tiny flicker of breath brushed the elfling's ear and he breathed a sigh of relief. Aragorn was, for now at least, alive.

But I did this.

He's not dead.

But if he does die...

He won't. I can't let him.

He concentrated on the shallow breathing. Legolas had never before in his life encountered someone, other than himself, so badly injured.

Still, from comparing the man's breath now with his own and what he thought it had sounded like before, this wasn't good. He wasn't sure though, because who listens to someone's breathing, semiconscious and in the middle of being rescued, for Ilúvatar's sake? Certainly not him.

A soft, almost inaudible thud from behind jolted him from his inspection. Jerking his head around, he saw that the elf who had shot Aragorn had jumped down from the tree, and was heading towards them. Squinting, Legolas could see his intention written clearly across his face, albeit it was marred by a deep scowl.

He's coming. For me.

Legolas jumped to his feet to flee. He was about to take the first step when...

But what about Aragorn?

He couldn't just leave the human lying there on the floor, could he? After all he'd done for him. He's practically given his life for me. I can't just abandon him now.

And yet something deep inside was pulling the elfling away. Hurry! There's  nothing you can do, save yourself! His instincts screamed at him to move, but his heart... how could he leave the man that had saved him to such a cruel fate? If Thranduil got hold of him...

Legolas shuddered at the thought, the tremor running through his entire body. He knew what it was like to be subjected to Thranduil's wrath, and he would wish it upon nobody. Well, maybe Thranduil himself deserved it...

But Aragorn didn't. What had he ever done to deserve being tortured, likely to death? What had he done to deserve being abandoned by the very one whose life he'd saved? What sort of gratitude was that?

Run.

But Aragorn was still lying there, and the soldier was coming closer...

Run.

The soldier's footsteps would have been audible to a human now...

Run.

Even Aragorn would have been able to hear them. The though sent a pang of guilt straight through the centre of Legolas' heart, breaking it into two.

Run!

But Aragorn had saved him. He owed it to the human...

RUN!

NO! Legolas turned, picking up the human's sword from where he had dropped it. He tried to push back the rising tide of fear he felt. He'd never handled a sword before in his life.

I'm going to die.

If he did, it would be for something though. Not just shut in a cold, dark cell. At least he would die free. The thought was oddly comforting, and Legolas bit his lip, but stood his ground. I owe it to him, remember? Legolas gulped.

The soldier was almost upon him now, a cruel smirk on his face and a long blade in his hand. And unlike Legolas, he clearly knew how to use it.

"Well, well, well, elfling. Why aren't you with your mother?" He mocked.

Legolas pressed his lips thinly together, trying to stay calm. He had endured such things for a hundred years. He could endure one more.

"Oh yes. I forgot. You don't have a mother, do you, elfling? Why? Because you killed her. Because you killed her selfishly to bring yourself into the world, taking her place. What a poor replacement you are, elfling. She would be so disappointed." He drawled.

Legolas tried to remain calm, but his hands were shaking in barely suppressed anger and grief. He could barely manage to hold the sword in his hands. It was heavy, and he was injured and much smaller than the human to which it belonged.

No! Stop it! Stop thinking about him!

He was clearly out of his depth. As soon as his opponent feinted left, he would go to block the blow which, of course, never arrived.

Pain. Pain in his right side. Why hadn't he seen that coming?

Legolas was slowly driven back, their swords never even touching. The elfling didn't realise it if course, but he was proving a much harder opponent that the warrior had anticipated. He was so... quick.

It was a completely uneven match however, and there was only one way it could have ended.

Dodge. Try for a clumsy blow. Miss. Aragorn... ow! Stop getting distracted!

On and on it went, the guard pushing forwards, and Legolas backing away, driven further and further from his companion. But the warrior was not concerned with the human. Not yet, anyway.

It was the elfling the King was after.

"Is that the best you can do, murderer?" Agardir, Captain of His Royal Majesty King Thranduil's Guard, taunted. He had learnt already that it was the best way to get under Legolas' skin.

And if he could distract him, he could hurt him. Agardir was bloodthirsty, but held to his word. He would not kill the elfling, but he would injure him so badly he wouldn't be a nuisance on the way back.

Smiling cruelly, he knocked Legolas to the ground and placed one foot on his chest.

"Lovely. Now for the best part."

Placing his sword-tip on Legolas' cheek, he traced the side of his face, drawing a thin line of blood.

"'Tis a shame really. That you should have to go back to your home. We don't really want you."

Lifting the blade, he poised it above Legolas' chest.

"Goodbye, elfling. For now."

With a grin, he plunged the blade downwards.

✧ ★ ✧

Legolas lay helpless. He was frozen once again. It hurt just as much, maybe even more than the first time. Why always at the wrong moments? What causes this?

He closed his eyes tight and waited. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the blade to pierce him, for the pain he knew would come. He whimpered quietly, hoping his tormentor wouldn't notice. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But why shouldn't he? Had he not just injured the only person who had ever shown him kindness in his whole life? Didn't he deserve it?

Thranduil definitely would have thought so.

But Aragorn wouldn't. He told himself. He didn't deserve this. Aragorn was alive, but Legolas was about to pay for it anyway, whether he liked it or not.

With an ease that spoke of his 104 years of practice, he cleared his mind and tried to be somewhere else. He felt the pain in his body but distantly, and it kept him from crying out.

Still he waited. How long had it been? Years? Days? Seconds? He couldn't tell.

Unable to bear it, he moved the only part of him he still had control of and cracked his eyes open.

What he saw confused him so much he came out of his paralysis and started back to reality. The guard was gone. Above him was just empty sky.

But then another face loomed over him and he blinked. He didn't know this elf. What if he was another one of Thranduil's guards?

"Tinu? What is it?" Called a voice. Distantly, or so it seemed to Legolas.

"It's an elfling and he's wounded, but not like Estel. He can wait." Said the figure above him.

He doesn't know who I am, thought Legolas in utter relief. Sitting up slowly, he looked around him. The elf before him, who had been referred to as Tinu, had dark brown hair with startling amber eyes. The other elf, who was kneeling over Aragorn, had pale, golden hair and dark brown eyes. It was rare for an elf to have that hair colour, Legolas knew.

"Îdhír! How's Estel doing? Is he... is he..." Tinu seemed unable to finish.

"He doesn't have long. We have to get him to Rivendell!"

Tinu turned to Legolas. "What's your name?"

Legolas was wary. He knew he shouldn't give out his name to strangers; they might take him to Thranduil!

"Dagnir." He muttered.

"Well, Dagnir, what happened? Why were you with Estel?"

"E-Estel?" Came the quiet question.

"Aragorn, Strider, whatever he calls himself these days!"

Legolas was shaking. What if this elf was like the others? He was imposing, and Legolas cowered, too fearful of the response to answer in anything other than a whisper. In truth, it was the fear of what would happen if he ignored the question that made him answer in the first place.

"H-He was s-shot, b-by the g-guard! I-"

He was cut off by the voice of Îdhír. "Tinu, come, quick! Leave the boy! Estel... he's fading! He doesn't have long left!"

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