His hand was caught, held fast by the leather thong around the great beast's neck. Aragorn struggled furiously to release himself, but the strap held fast, gripping his wrist in a choking hold. The hairs on the Warg were coarse and hard, biting into his face and body like the barbs of a thorn bush. The stink was almost unbearable, the foul odor invading his nose and mouth, nearly choking him.

Aragorn felt the ground flying by beneath him as the Warg ran blindly, insane with fury and pain. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the edge of a cliff coming toward them unthinkingly fast. He didn't have much time. With his heart pounding in his breast, he reached up with his free hand to tug at the unforgiving strap, but still it held him. Grass gave way to rock and Aragorn felt the jagged surface cut and tear at him, ripping at his shoulder and side as the Warg ran on. Pain filled him and he tore madly at the strap with a cry of fury when suddenly, there was nothing. For a brief moment, Aragorn felt as if he were floating. Then, the weight of the Warg pulled them both down and Aragorn heard the rushing of the rapids beneath him. He had barely enough time to draw in a quick breath before the icy grip of the water engulfed him and blackness soon followed.

---

The ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen, both friend and foe alike. Around him, the men of Rohan were hacking away at any Orcs and Wargs still left alive. The cry of the wounded filled the air, echoing behind the stink of death. Legolas walked up a small embankment, his keen eyes surveying the scene, searching for the one face that seemed to be eluding him.

"Aragorn!" He called, eyes flicking from one spot to the next as he searched for the missing Ranger. Across the way, he heard Gimli echo the cry. When the man did not respond, the first traces of true fear began to trace icy paths down the Elf's spine, it was not like Aragorn to remain silent. Perhaps he had been wounded during the battle for Legolas had seen him get thrown from his horse.

The Elf ran up the face of a nearby cliff, hoping to get a better vantage point from up there when something glistening on the ground caught his eye. He knelt down, clutching his bow tightly in one hand as he reached down with the other.

Blood.

The Elf's heart froze in his breast as his fingers touched the fresh stain. Human blood.

Behind him, he heard the raucous laugh of an Orc, hissing and fouling the air with its odious breath. Legolas turned and watched as Gimli stormed up to the mortally wounded creature, brandishing his axe. "Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing," the Dwarf growled.

"He's dead," the Orc replied with glee, its oily blood oozing from the corner of its mouth as it laughed at the furious Dwarf.

Anger surged through Legolas then and he ran over to the dying Orc, pushing in front of Gimli and grabbing the creature by the leather straps across its chest, pulling it up to him. "You lie!" He shouted, for he didn't want it to be true.

"He took a little trip off the cliff," the creature hissed at them, and with its last breath, it laughed.

Legolas released the dead Orc, his face twisting with disgust. This foul creature didn't know anything, it had simply told them what it knew they most feared, trying one last time to break their spirits. He and Gimli would simply have to ...

Something shining in the Orc's lifeless hand caught his eyes then and the Elf's breath caught in his throat. With fingers shaking in disbelief, Legolas reached down and pulled the Evenstar from the dead hand. For a few moments, he simply stared at it, unable to believe that it had been parted from its owner.

He shot to his feet then, running back up the cliff wall where he had first spotted the stain of blood. Theoden was already there, standing tall and proud, looking down into the rushing waves below. Had he seen what had happened? Did he know?

Legolas stood quietly beside the King of Rohan, his own eyes studying the scene beneath him; jagged fingers of rock jutting out from the churning water as it passed by in a terrible, fast-moving current. His hand clenched around the jewel as horror clawed at his heart. No one could survive a fall like that. The rocks would tear a body to pieces before the crashing waves had a chance to batter and break it. If Aragorn had indeed gone over the edge ...

"Get the wounded on horses," Theoden called out suddenly, turning from the scene, "the wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead."

At that, Legolas turned to glare at the King, fury etched on his fair features as his eyes flashed with lightening. How dare this man brush the heir to the throne of Gondor aside as if he were nothing more than a wayward wanderer? Legolas wanted to shout at him, command him to get a search party together, gather whatever troops could be spared so that they could find the missing man.

"Come," Theoden said to them, resting a gentle hand on the Elf's shoulder before Legolas could say anything.

The Elf looked back down into the churning water as he held the Evenstar loosely in his palm, pain and sorrow tearing at his soul as his heart struggled to hold on to a quickly fading hope. Deep in his aching heart, Legolas knew that no one could survive a fall like that, but until he saw his friend's lifeless body, he would believe that Aragorn may yet be alive, wounded and needing their help.

The alternative was just far too painful to consider

---

The ride to Helm's Deep was a quiet one. Theoden had lost many good soldiers to the Orcs and Wargs and with the threat of Saruman still hanging heavily in the air, confidence and hope was hanging by a quickly unraveling thread. For his part, Gimli tried to break the pall in the air with typical Dwarven determination, but after awhile even he couldn't compete with the weight of sorrow and fear and so fell silent.

Legolas, however, was lost in his own thoughts, the threat forgotten, at least for the moment. His mind was wandering back over the past several days, days he had spent with Aragorn and Gimli hunting for Merry and Pippin. How many fires had he sat beside the Ranger in silence? How many opportunities had been presented and not taken advantage of? Legolas wanted to weep for all the missed chances, chances that he might never have again.

Sighing heavily, the Elf raised his eyes. Just a few short hours ago, Aragorn had been riding with this company, laughing and talking with those around him. Legolas remembered how the Ranger had looked, smiling so easily as he made jokes on Gimli's behalf. His heart ached terribly in his breast at the thought of never seeing that smile again, of never being able to hear that laugh or see the way Aragorn's eyes shone when he lit upon an idea.

Legolas had spent a great many years on this world, seeing much and enduring more. With his age had come wisdom and understanding; death was a natural part of life, the end of all things beginning. Even though he was considered young by Elven standards, Legolas had lived long enough to witness his share of death. At the time, none had been more sorrowful and terrible than Moria, when Mithrandir had fallen.

Until now. Now Gandalf was back and Aragorn ...

Hot tears welled in his eyes at the thought of the blood smear on the jagged rock, his hands clenched around the reins at the image of Aragorn, broken and wounded, lying at the side of the river, helpless. Behind him, Legolas heard Gimli sigh heavily and shift his weight cautiously in the saddle, "If he's still alive," the Dwarf said quietly, "he'll find his way back."

The Elf smiled sadly at Gimli's attempt at comfort. "I know," he whispered.

---

They were greeted by a welcoming crowd upon reaching the fortress of Helm's Deep. Legolas watched as the disheveled and displaced inhabitants cried in relief at the return of their king, watched as wives ran to embrace their husbands, watched as the lady Eowyn searched the group eagerly. He knew for whom she was looking and he knew that she would not find him. Legolas' heart was heavy as he dismounted his horse, he felt no anger toward her for he knew what it was like to love someone that would be forever out of reach.

He absently handed Arod's reins over to a stable-hand and walked quietly up the stone steps that led into the inner chamber of the fortress. He knew that there was much work to be done now. With Aragorn missing, Theoden would require much of his help in getting everyone ready for the impending battle, but right now he needed to be alone. The Evenstar lay heavily in his palm as he vanished into the gloom of Helm's Deep.

Gimli found him some time later, sitting quietly in a corner on the stone floor, nearly invisible in the swallowing dark. The Elf's head was bowed upon hands that were crossed over his knees. Through fair fingers, the Dwarf could see a silver chain glittering in the near dark. In the silence of the chamber, Gimli could faintly hear the soft sound of Legolas crying. The sound surprised the Dwarf and he found that for a moment he was embarrassed, as if he had intruded into a private sanctum where his presence was neither welcome nor requested.

He made a move to turn and leave Legolas to his grief when the Elf suddenly raised his head and looked quietly at him. "Hello, Gimli," the voice was whisper soft in the great hall.

Knowing that he couldn't walk away now, Gimli took a deep breath and went over to where his friend sat, grieving softly. Legolas crossed his knees before him and rested his hands gently in his lap, cradling the glittering jewel. "Aragorn used to say that there's always hope," Legolas began softly, eyes studying the Evenstar.

Gimli nodded as he went about the business of arranging himself as comfortably as possible on the stone floor, however Dwarves were not built for sitting cross-legged and he soon found the position to be rather unpleasant.

"I want to believe that there is still hope," the Elf continued, raising his face to glance at the Dwarf. "Even now."

Gimli could see the silver tracks the tears had left on Legolas' fair face, how his eyes still glistened with them. As he studied his friend, Gimli's heart ached for the Elf. He had seen the way Legolas had looked at Aragorn when he thought no one was watching, the way the Elf studied and gazed upon the Ranger in the quiet of night, his blue eyes bright with longing.

"Aragorn is a wiley creature," Gimli said, his baritone voice ringing off the stone walls. "If anyone could survive a fall of that cliff, he could." The Elf nodded and cast his eyes back upon the jewel he cradled, "I want to believe that. I need to believe that."

"Then believe it, lad." Gimli continued, reaching out to give deceptively delicate shoulders a rough, yet comforting pat. Legolas raised his eyes once more to gaze at the Dwarf as he continued, "Aragorn's time's not yet come, he's meant for great things and he still has much left to do."

Fresh tears spilled onto Legolas' cheeks and followed silver trails down his marble skin, pausing to hang like diamond drops on his chin. In his lap his hand closed around the Evenstar.

"Mark my words," Gimli said as he shoved himself to his feet, "Aragorn will return."

---

There was a commotion in the courtyard, the sound of many voices raised in cheer, the murmur of others talking in disbelief and wonder. The sound reached the Elf's ears as he sat quietly in the dark of the inner chamber. He raised his head and turned it toward the sound, wondering what had happened. At that moment, a woman came running into the hall, eyes bright with hope, a large smile on her dirty face.

"Lord Aragorn has come!" She called, her voice echoing across the vast expanse as she uttered the joyous news, "Lord Aragorn has returned!" She continued on her way, spreading the news as she ran, mindless of the Elf sitting in the dark corner.

Legolas' heart clenched in his breast as his breath caught painfully in his throat, the Evenstar bit into the soft skin of his palm as he unconsciously gripped it tightly. Could it be true? He wondered as he got slowly to his feet. Could Aragorn truly have returned as Gimli had said?

He desperately wanted it to be so.

As he came to the door of the inner hall, his breath lodged painfully against the lump that was growing in his throat when he saw a large crowd gathered around a tall, dark-haired man. Their hands were upon him, touching him almost reverantly as if they, too, couldn't believe he was actually standing there. The Elf's heart thundered wildly in his breast as the crowd parted and he watched Gimli appear and throw his sturdy arms around Aragorn.

Aragorn!

The Ranger was battered, bruised and bleeding, but he was very much alive.

Alive!

Tears of relief sprang to his eyes then and his soul sang for joy, he wanted to run forward and likewise wrap his arms around the Ranger, hold him forever and never let him go.

He remained where he was, though, rooted to the spot just outside the great wooden door. He watched as the future king of Gondor gently removed himself from the Dwarf's embrace and turned to walk in his direction. Aragorn suddenly pulled up short as he realized someone was standing directly in his way, he raised his head to look curiously at the silent Elf that was gazing at him so intensely.

A myriad of thoughts raced through Legolas' mind as he gazed upon the ragged mortal who had so captured his heart. I love you! He wanted to shout. I need you! Don't ever do that to me again!

He wanted to reach out and close the small distance between them. He wanted to know what it felt like to have Aragorn's lips on his own, wanted to know what it felt like to have the Ranger's hands wrap around him and hold him close, wanted to know what the man's skin felt and tasted like under those tattered clothes. But the Evenstar dug at his palm as he grasped it, its delicate chain sliding through his fingers as if in reminder, and Legolas knew then that he would never know, for Aragorn was promised to another.

He smiled sadly even as his spirit and heart soared with joy, "You're late," was all he said.