"Dehino nin, Legolas.... dehino nin. Im caru isto le caru gwanno..." ~[Forgive me, Legolas... forgive me. I did not know you didn't die..."]~ Aragorn whispered as he leaned against the balcony wall of Legolas' chambers. "Im ceru iest an pent hero an lin. U hi, u ir le gerin dannen vian i camlann ned hero cath." ~[I did not wish to say a prayer for your death. Not now, not when you have fallen into the palm of the hand of your enemies.]~ The great King of Gondor closed his eyes, reflecting on what had occurred once the battle was over...

      Gimli had taken a post outside the Elven King's door, not wanting to enter such a noisy room. Within, Aragorn and Thranduil had been arguing in Elvish for what seemed like a good hour. The Dwarf however, feared his friend was getting the blame laid upon himself for the capture of their companion, Legolas.

      "You must understand, King Thranduil. The plan was of Legolas' own devise! He risked his life for your people and fought bravely!" The King of Gondor shouted in Sindarin.
      The King however, was not appeased, "It was reckless behavior! And from where I stand I see that he got it from you! Too long has he spent in the lands of mortal men, who knows what foul notions you have set in stone upon his mind! You did not rush to save him, Aragorn but merely believed him to be dead?!"
      Aragorn's eyes narrowed, to be blamed for such noble actions of another was strictly in bad taste, especially coming from a king. "Thranduil, by the Valar I will save him but you must trust me! I cannot do this alone, not if the army returns once more!"

      It had become apparent, after the battle, that the Orcs were there merely there as a distraction and that their true intentions had been to capture a member of the royal family. For what reasons, Aragorn knew not, but by his life he would find the answer. Once Legolas had been carried off, the battle continued for no more than ten minutes. By then, every living Orc had flown from the fight to disappear into Mirkwood's dark forests.
      There were things which troubled Aragorn, as he stood arguing with the King of the Wood Elves. How did so many Orcs come into being? Why was there no word from the armies which Thranduil had sent to their Northern borders? The King of Gondor's mind began to form an idea so hideous that the mere thought of it turned his stomach.

      Once the arguing had passed and Thranduil was no longer blaming Aragorn for his son's capture, the man decided to lay his idea out before the Elven King.
      "Lord Thranduil," Aragorn spoke, still using the Sindarin tongue, "I believe I may have the answer to the disappearance of your Northern armies."
      The King looked to him skeptically, "And what prey tell is it?"
      "Have you not thought it odd that a huge army of Orcs mysteriously appears from the North to challenge this realm and try to gain control of it?" he spoke with his hands, emphasizing every word, "Something grave is brewing and I fear that the Orcs which attacked were not just some rabble from the mountains but the very Elves you sent to guard the borders."
      This took Thranduil by surprise, "You dare to suggest that my very own army has been turned against me?! But how?! And why?! Who could have done such a terrible thing?"
      Aragorn shook his head, "I know not, your highness. But I think the questions will be answered once Prince Legolas is found. By now he has been taken to their stronghold and, he is our best hope at solving such a gruesome puzzle."

      Turning from the doorway, Aragorn leaned against the wall outside the King's chambers. He was tired and hurt, but the worst was the drain on his emotions. He wanted to cry out, to scream until there was nothing left in his voice. But he was refrained from that pleasure when he felt two tiny hands grasp the side of his tunic and pant leg. Looking down, Aragorn's eyes met two huge pools of blue which stared back at him in hope and despair.
      "Ias na nin gwanur?" ~[Where is my brother?]~ The young Elven girl at his side asked.
      The King of Gondor sighed. To have to tell one as innocent as she would be difficult and he was tempted to tell the young Elf to ask her father. However, he thought better of this, since Thranduil was in such a sour mood already and he would probably end up scaring the girl more than comforting her.
      Aragorn kneeled beside Legolia, a hand on each of her slender shoulders, "E crom bo lend." ~[He left on a journey]~ the man replied, keeping his eyes from showing the pain he felt inside.
      The girl regarded him for a moment then asked, "Ir innas e teli ad?" ~[When will he come back?]~
      There was silence in Aragorn's reply. He could not tell this young Elf that her brother may right now be dead or dying. Legolas had saved his younger sister at the cost of his own life, but she need not know that.
      "Ned lu. E innas teli ned lu. Le baur garo bronwe, tithen pen." ~[In time. He will come in time. You need to have faith, little one.]~ Aragorn smiled, putting every ounce of compassion he had into the gesture.
      Legolia smiled back, "Hannad le, hir Aragorn. Im innas dartho an tin toltho." ~[Thank you, Lord Aragorn. I will wait for his coming.~* and, without a second thought, the young Elf child rushed from his side and back down the stairs she had come.

      Aragorn nearly collapsed to the ground, and would have, had Gimli not appeared from some unseen corner to steady him.
      "Gimli?" The man asked in a tone of, where-have-you-been.
      The Dwarf looked back at him, all jest replaced by seriousness beyond any the man had seen before, "You need rest, Aragorn. Come, maybe tomorrow you will have your head on straight enough to begin devising a plan."
      He had led Aragorn into the man's own room, but shortly after, the King of Gondor had found his way into Legolas' lonely chamber.

      And it was here that he thought, all the events having flashed before his mortal eyes. There were no words to express Aragorn's grief or shame at losing such a close friend. Legolas had held them together, brought on laughter and cheer when all hope had faded. He could not turn his back on his friend.
      But now, of all times, Aragorn felt that the only thing he could possibly do was to cry. To weep for his comrade and to mend the tearing at his heart.
      Across the room, lay the Elf's bed, in disarray from the sudden Orc attack. On the table was a plat of fresh strawberries which Legolas had never touched. The Elf's nightshirt lay torn, the strip of cloth to mend his wound had been taken from the garment and now, that cloth rested in Aragorn's hand. The lights were low and a soft breeze filled the room. Early morning had given way to midday, but the coming winter's chill had driven away any heat.

      Pain tore at the man, he could stand it no longer. Looking at the strip of blood soaked cloth in his hand, Aragorn's knees gave out and he slid to the floor.
      There he wept silently for Legolas.