I killed him.

He was my friend. He was dear to me. Very dear. And yet, I caused his death. I murdered him. And by this act, I have caused the doom of us all.

I still hear the screams of denial coming from behind me. I still see his wise blue eyes, boring into us, warning us. Begging us to run away and leave him to die. Leave him to the fate that I have brought upon him.

It is I who did it. I, and my actions alone. I betrayed him. It was only my foolishness, my thrice cursed stupidity! He was right. I should have thrown myself into that well.

"Pippin!"

He is gone now. Gone beyond the circles of this world, where we cannot reach him. I can never tell him how sorry I am. How I wish I had thrown myself into that well, how I wish I had been eaten by the Watcher, so that it would have never come to that.

"Pippin!"

But it is too late now. He left, and he left me here alone. Alone with my grief and my guilt. Nay, not alone. Merry is still with me, good old Merry, and he never blames me although I deserve all the blame. Neither do the rest of our company. And yet, I want them to blame me. I want them to shout at me, to tell me what a fool I am, what a piece of scum I am, and how I have destroyed everything that we have fought for. For I deserve nothing less.

"Pippin! Wake up!"

The Hobbit slowly opened his eyes and looked up groggily. Strider's face was above him, eyebrows drawn together with worry. "This was but a dream, Pippin. All is well. All is well now."

Pippin frowned in confusion, worry, and perhaps newfound hope. "Gandalf…" he started timidly. "Is he… is he…"

The Ranger sighed and averted his gaze. "I fear this was not a dream, my friend. He is gone." His voice was barely audible at the last words.

"I killed him," the Hobbit muttered quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.

Strider looked up uncomprehending. "What did you say, Pippin?"

"I killed him," Pippin repeated, louder this time, and his voice was dry and hollow. "I am a murderer." His small body was shaking all over, and his eyes were wide and scared.

"Killed whom?" Aragorn asked, and the Hobbit pulled away, as if trying to hide, to sink deep into the grass and disappear from this world. "Tell me, Pippin. Whom did you kill?"

"Gandalf," he whispered and he could no longer keep the bitter tears from rolling down his dirtied cheeks.

The Ranger stared at him in surprise. "What do you mean? It is the Balrog who killed Gandalf." His voice was soft. The pain was still too fresh, too raw, and he could not relive this memory without feeling his own tears rise, trying to choke him.

"No, I did it!" Pippin screamed, pouring out all his guilt and anger that had built up until now, as if a dam had suddenly broken, releasing the water all at once. "I did it! It was not the Balrog, it was me! Me! I threw down that rock! I awoke the orcs, and they awoke the Balrog! That nightmarish creature would have never followed us if not for my stupidity! And I…" Pippin paused to swallow his tears and suddenly looked very small, "I only wanted to take a look…"

"Curiosity is not a crime, Pippin," Aragorn said gently.

"No," the Hobbit agreed, his voice low and bitter. "But murder is."

The Ranger sighed and sat down on the grass, his eyes darting worriedly over the rest of his companions. They all needed their rest, and he preferred to deal with this himself. Merry was curled up on the grass, with his back turned to them. Gimli was snoring softly, his head rested on a rock – how he could feel comfortable in that position, Aragorn could never understand. Frodo was stirring in his sleep, his hand often going towards his chest, his fingers trembling slightly. Sam was not far from his master and he seemed vigilant even in sleep – as if he would wake up at any time should he sense any danger. Boromir looked tense in his sleep as well, and Aragorn sadly shook his head when he noticed that the Steward's fingers were curled around the handle of his dagger. The man could not find peace in Lothlórien and his mistrust of the Elves allowed him no rest. Even Legolas was asleep, his eyes wide open and fixed at the distant stars. This was the first time the Elf slept in days – the first time after Gandalf's fall.

"You are no murderer, Pippin," Aragorn said slowly. "You did not mean to cause harm. Besides, we do not know if the noise you made awoke the orcs and the Balrog. Perhaps the Balrog would have found us anyway. I hesitated to go into Moria because I sensed that Gandalf was in danger there. Perhaps this was meant to happen and nothing you have done or failed to do would have changed it."

"Do not try to comfort me, Strider," the Hobbit snapped. "I know what I have done and I deserve to suffer!"

"I know how you feel, my friend," Aragorn said. "But you must see that-" He suddenly stopped as Pippin glared at him angrily.

"You know how I feel? How dare you! You have never hurt someone you care about! You know nothing, Strider! Nothing! Nothing!" Pippin stopped his angry tirade and looked at the Ranger regretfully. His rage was directed towards himself and he had no right to turn it at the man who was only trying to help him. To his surprise, Aragorn shook his head, smiling sadly.

"Oh, but I do, my friend," he said with a tired sigh. "I do."

It was the Hobbit's turn to be surprised. "You know how it feels to cause the death of a dear friend?" He blinked in shock when Strider nodded. "Who- whom have you killed?" He was almost afraid to ask.

Aragorn said nothing. Instead, he slowly turned his head and to Pippin's puzzlement his eyes rested on the sleeping form of the golden-haired Elf. But how was that possible? Legolas was surely alive!

-:-

(thirty years earlier)

-:-

Legolas nervously played with the fork, not seeing the food on his plate. The cool metal against his fingers did little to soothe his worries, and the bright eyes darted unseeing over the table and everyone present. The clatter of plates was heard as the servants arrived to serve the next dish, but the sound did not reach his keen ears.

"Legolas!"

The Elf blinked and looked at his father in surprise. Thranduil rarely raised his voice at him, especially without a reason, and the King's behaviour confused him.

"My Lord?"

"I asked you a question, my son," the King continued in a softer voice. "Several times."

The younger Elf blushed slightly and looked away. "Forgive me, father. I fear my mind was elsewhere. What did you ask?"

Thranduil frowned, somewhat worried. "I asked you where your guest was. Why did he not come to lunch or dinner?"

Legolas sighed and looked down. This was exactly where his mind had been. "A messenger pigeon arrived from Imladris this morning," he said softly. "He carried a letter for Aragorn, bearing the seal of Lord Elrond. Aragorn took it and left, and I have not seen him ever since."

The King nodded in understanding. "And you are worried that the message bears ill news?" This was the most likely explanation, Thranduil thought. The Ranger had arrived in Mirkwood a fortnight ago after spending many years in the wilderness, away from any Elven realm, only briefly visiting the Rangers about a year ago. He planned to next travel to Rivendell and then south to The Angle, to talk to Elrond and his mother, before leaving once again. There was still much he had to do and see, and he was not ready to allow himself a long rest to spend time with family and his old friends. Still, he had not seen Legolas in a dozen years, and for a human this was a long time, or so Thranduil had been told. Therefore, the man had chosen to stay in Mirkwood for a while, but was planning to leave in a few days at most. He had immediately sent news to Rivendell, informing them of his whereabouts and that he would arrive soon. During his stay, the man had not missed a meal unless he had been away with Legolas, inspecting the border patrols. All in all, the King had noticed that the Ranger rarely missed an opportunity to spend time with the young prince, fully aware that their time together was drawing short. This made his absence even more surprising.

"Go and seek him then," the King said. "It will make your heart lighter."

Legolas's face seemed to brighten up all of a sudden. As a prince, he was not expected to miss any formal gatherings. This dinner, at which some ambassadors from Lake Town were present, counted as such, and so he was reluctant to leave against his lord's will. "Thank you, father," he said, beaming, and walked out of the room as fast as it could be considered proper for a prince.

Legolas walked, or rather ran, to the guest quarters and then stopped, standing hesitantly in front of the room where Aragorn was staying. He raised his hand and his long fingers curled up into a loose fist, and after a brief moment of uncertainty the Elf softly knocked on the wooden door. There was no response and Legolas knocked again, louder this time. Nothing. Perhaps Aragorn was somewhere else. Legolas was about to turn back and walk away, when something, some dull pain in his chest, made him stay. With a shaking hand he held the iron knob and slowly turned it, letting the heavy door slid open.

What he saw made the blood in his veins turn into burning ice.

Aragorn was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes staring forward unseeing. They were dry, but were red-rimmed and blood-shot, and in the light of the candle Legolas could see the reflections of salty tear-tracks down the pale face. The man was still as a statue, barely breathing, his chest moving up and down almost imperceptibly. He looked as if he had not moved from this position in hours.

Down on the floor laid a yellowish piece of parchment. It was not crumbled and rather looked as if it had been barely touched. But it was not carefully lain down either – it rather looked as if it had fallen – slipped from the frozen fingers of a listless hand.

Legolas waited for a moment, hoping that his friend would give some sign to indicate that he had noticed his presence. The man did not move, and he ventured a step forward. "Aragorn…" he started timidly.

The man did not react and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Estel, mellon nín," he whispered and sat on the edge of the bed, slowly laying his palm over his friend's forearm. "Please… what is it?"

The only response he received was a sharp intake of breath, almost a sob. Legolas tried to suppress his growing panic and bent down, lifting the parchment and gently placing it on his knees. "May I?" he asked softly, his gaze drifting towards the letter.

Aragorn did not respond, and he paused, hesitating. He glanced over the neat handwriting without reading the words, eager to find the answer to this horror, and at the same time reluctant to see something that might not be meant for his eyes.

"She is dead."

The words were so sudden, so unexpected, so desperate, so empty and yet so filled with emotion, that Legolas almost jumped. He whirled around, wide eyes boring into the man. "Who… who is dead Estel?" He asked, his throat going dry. And then understanding hit him. "Your mother?" He whispered.

"She was not meant to die," Aragorn said quietly, still staring forward. "Not now, not yet. For one of the Dúnedain she was still young. It was the worries and cares of this world that made her grow old so quickly, and I fear it was my absence that caused her much grief. I should have visited her more often, I should have stayed with her longer, I should have… I…"

Legolas only tightened his grip of the man's arm, listening silently. His heart ached both for the gentle and wise Lady Gilraen, whom he had met several times, and for his friend's pain.

"Last time we met, about a year ago, she foretold this. She knew it. She told me that this was our last parting, but I refused to believe it. This growing darkness was too much for her to bear, she said. But what if… what if there is light beyond all this darkness that now threatens to engulf us, Legolas? I… I wanted her to see it. I wanted her to see the light again…"

The Elf wrapped his arm around Aragorn's shoulders, which have started to shake slightly. He bent slightly, his forehead almost touching the man's. "She saw her light, Estel," he said. "You were her light, her happiness. Perhaps her life was filled with darkness and pain, but there were also beauty, and hope, and light. You gave her that, my friend."

"And yet, I saw her so rarely," Aragorn said bitterly. "I knew that I was her only joy, and I did not do everything in my power to be with her as much as possible. I could have given her more joy, more light, but I did not. And now – now I stopped here to stay with you instead of continuing to Eriador. And I forgot her last words to me, I forgot her pain and fear. Maybe if I had continued on, if I had arrived on time…"

"You could not have saved her, Aragorn," the Elf said sadly.

The man sighed. "Perhaps you are right. And yet I… I…" Aragorn bent forward and buried his face in his hands. "Legolas, I have never before lost someone so close to me."

The Elf smiled sadly – his friend suddenly looked so young. He rose from the bed and knelt on the floor in front of the man, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "I have," he said softly. "And I can speak from experience. The pain is strong now, but it will fade in time. Day after day will pass, and you will begin to understand that your loved one has had a long and a happy live, and you will learn to cherish the happy memories and remember her with a smile."

"A long life?" Aragorn muttered bitterly. "Her life was not long, Legolas. Not for one with her blood. She was merely twenty-four years older than me. Twenty-four! If I leave you in twenty-four years, would you say that my time has come and I have had a long and a happy life?"

"Do not speak like that, Estel," the Elf pleaded. "You are strong. You will face the darkness and survive it. Forgive me – I was wrong to say that her life was long, but no matter how short, she had had her happy times. I am certain you have joyous memories with her and I know that one day you will learn to remember them and push away the pain."

"I have to ask for forgiveness, my friend," Aragorn said and pulled himself on the bed, tiredly resting his head against a pillow. "You are right, of course. I fear I am blinded by my grief and do not know of what I speak."

"All is well, Aragorn," The Elf said and stood up from the floor. "Try to rest now."

"I cannot," the man said. "I have to see her. I need to talk to her. I know I will be too late to see the body before… before they bury her, but I have to go to her grave. I need this, Legolas."

"I know," the Elf said. "Please, try to sleep. I will make sure there is a horse prepared for you tomorrow morning, and I will pack some food and supplies for the road. Go to sleep, I will take care of everything."

"No," Aragorn said suddenly and sat up, looking at the dark window, as if seeing it for the first time. "How long have I stood here, before you arrived? Night has fallen already! I can wait no more. I have to see her, Legolas. See her as soon as I can. I feel as if there is something burning inside my chest, and it hurts, ai how it hurts! Only talking to her will make it go away! I have to leave now!"

"Now?" Legolas shook his head. "Traveling in Mirkwood at night is madness, and you know it. There is no need to hurry. As you said it yourself, there is no way you can arrive before she is buried. And the grave will always be there, even if you are a day or two late. And I ask you to wait only several hours, until the Sun rises."

"I cannot wait," Aragorn said, slightly raising his voice. "Legolas, you must understand. Even if I stay here, I will not be able to rest."

"I do not ask you to rest, if you cannot do it," Legolas said. "I only ask you to stay safe. Stay here for the night and leave at dawn. When next night falls, find a safe shelter and stay there. These woods are no place to wander around at night."

"I have traveled in Mirkwood at night before," Aragorn said and stood up. "And I have survived it."

"This was twelve years ago!" Legolas suddenly cried, his voice laden with frustration and some strange pain that had just now been awoken. "Twelve years ago – my home was a safer place then, although still darker than most realms in Middle-earth. But the darkness is growing, Aragorn, every year, every month! More vile creatures come and multiply! They are like a plaque upon the once fair woods! Once I also walked around at night without an escort, but now I would fear doing so!" He sat on the floor, feeling suddenly tired. "My home is not what it once was, my friend. And it is getting worse. I do not know if I will see my woods green and fair again."

Aragorn sat next to him, regretful that his words had caused painful memories. The grief at that night was more than enough for everyone – there was no need for more. "I do not know either," he admitted. "But I will do everything in my power to push this darkness away."

"You can start fulfilling that promise by staying alive," Legolas suggested softly. "If you go out all alone this night, I have little hope that I will see you again. The orcs are more than they used to be, and the spiders – the spiders have grown bolder. They feared attacking our patrols once, but not anymore. They have grown in number as well, and I can swear they have grown bigger."

"Bigger?" Aragorn muttered in disbelief. He had seen those spiders once, many years ago, when he had traveled with Legolas and several other warriors. They had come across some spiders and have dealt with them after a brief fight. No one had been bitten, so the man was unaware of the precise effects of their poison, but the memories of those enormous beasts still made his heart beat faster. "How can they be bigger?"

"Leave now and I promise you will find out," Legolas said sadly. "But you will not live long to keep the memory."

Aragorn stood silent for a moment. Then he walked to the wall and rested his forehead against the cold stony surface. "I know I must sound like a madman, Legolas, but I have to go. I need it. If I stay here, my heart will burst. I know it is hard for you to understand, but I ask of you, do not stand in my way. I will leave whether you like it or not, and I do not wish to part with angry words. My heart is filled with too much grief, and it can hold no more."

"I wish to cause you no more pain," Legolas said, "but I also wish you to stay alive long enough to let the grief abate. Please, mellon nín, is there no way you can stay until dawn? The foul creatures are bolder at night and these woods will be safer when the Sun graces the treetops with her bright rays. Let us wait only for a few more hours. I will stay with you and we will wait together."

"You offer me more kindness than I deserve, my friend," the man said. "But I fear it is as I told you already – I cannot wait. I will travel with care, I promise. Forgive me, I do not wish to cause you worry. I am certain we will meet again."

Legolas was quiet for a while, thoughtfully regarding his friend. Then he looked around the room and there seemed to be a dull pain passing across his face. "Very well," he said at length. "I will have all necessary supplies prepared immediately. We will leave within half an hour."

"Good," Aragorn said. "I would be unable to wait any-" Suddenly he realized what Legolas had said and stared at the Elf, wondering if he had misheard the words. "We?"

"I believe that if we travel together, we will be safer than if you travel by yourself. I will not lie to you – the road is still dangerous, but I will do everything in my power to keep us safe from those dangers. Unfortunately, I cannot come all the way with you – I have my duties here and my father will require my return, but I can ride with you as far as the Misty Mountains and see you safely out of Mirkwood."

Aragorn was about to protest, but the quiet determination in his friend's bright eyes stopped him. He knew that Legolas would come, not matter what he would say. He stared at the Elf silently, their eyes locked in wordless communication. Finally, Aragorn nodded. "As you wish," he said quietly. The Elf smiled slightly and made his way to the door. "Legolas-", the man called, and he turned back with a question in his gaze. "Thank you."

-:-

Dark clouds had gathered over the woods hours ago, and the rain was falling in large, heavy drops. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like bitter tears they rolled down and hit the ground, as if the sky itself was crying, mourning all the pain and sorrow it witnessed. Often a bright bolt of lightning pierced the darkness and the thunder that followed would make everyone shudder and thank everything they believed in that they were at home, with a solid roof above their heads and away from the elements.

And yet, two companions had chosen to travel through the woods despite the horrid weather. They made their way slowly, the hoofs of their unfortunate horses sinking into the muddy ground at each step. As the wind blew mercilessly, their wet bodies shivered even though one of them was not bothered by the cold. A tree was hit by lighting and fell in front of them, and the horses jumped back at the last moment. They barely paid it any attention and continued forward. It was not the first storm they had survived together, and it would not be the last.

Surprisingly, the frightful rain seemed to be working in their favour. Even the creatures of the night seemed to be reluctant to venture out of their lairs in that weather, and the two friends continued undisturbed. The road was far from pleasant, but they would have readily chosen the cold and pouring rain to orcs and spiders.

The two rode in silence until one of the steeds, a young white mare, stopped in her tracks still as a statue. Aragorn turned back and saw the Elf, bent forward and whispering something into his horse's ear. Legolas straightened up and looked around worriedly. "Something is wrong," he said quietly. "I fear we are not alone anymore."

The Ranger stared at the trees, his keen eyes trying in vain to pierce the darkness. "No men or orcs would venture out in such weather," he said. "Perhaps-" Before he could finish his thought, a blood-freezing screech tore the silence. A large black body flew from the thick canopy, collided with Aragorn and sent him falling off the horse. The man's body impacted painfully with the ground, which, although softened by the rain, was still abounding in sharp rocks. He looked up and to see the dark sting of the monstrous spider, ready to sink into his neck. And then there above him was Legolas, a knife in his hand, ready to strike. The man would have let go of his fear, trustingly leaving his life in his friend's hands, if not for the second spider. The frightful beast was on a lower branch, right behind Legolas, prepared to trust its glistening sting into the fair prince's back.

"Legolas! Behind you!" The man cried, his eyes wide in horror. Why was Legolas not turning back?

The Elf was well aware why Aragorn would have cried a warning – it meant that there was a second spider behind him, ready to strike. But he was also well aware that he did not have enough time to kill both spiders before either he or his friend was bitten.

"No!" A shout of despair left Aragorn's lips as he watched the short knife leave Legolas's hand, fly through the air, and find its place in the back of the gigantic spider looming above him. At the same instant, the second spider thrust its sting forward and the golden-haired Elf fell down with a strangled cry, his face sinking into the mud.

All that took place within a fraction of a second, but it played as if in slow motion before the man's wide eyes. With a cry, Aragorn pushed the wriggling spider away and finished him with a thrust of his blade. Then he quickly slew the second spider, which was still busy pulling its sting out of Legolas's back. The Ranger fell panting next to the creature, but immediately rose and moved to the Elf's side. He pulled Legolas out of the mud and turned him gently, staring in horror at the wide blue eyes.

Legolas's eyes were wide open, staring and unblinking, glazed over with some strange haze. But he was not lost in the realms of Elven sleep. He had gone away, further away, where no mortal man could ever reach him again. The skin, normally pale, was now deathly white, like freshly fallen snow. The usually pink lips were now bluish-black. The mouth was slightly open, and there was a strange, black substance at one of the corners.

Aragorn froze when the full impact of what he had seen stroke him. There had been deadly poison on the spider's sting, which had acted surprisingly fast. The Elven prince was beyond any help now.

Legolas was dead.

TBC