Legolas awoke in his room. He sighed in relief, but then a searing pain shot through his left shoulder - the shoulder that the Orcs had stabbed. He turned his head and held in a scream. Only his bandaged left shoulder remained. Then he remembered.

        Legolas hung there. The pain in his shoulder was increasing. He held himself up with his other arm to keep his weight from his injured arm. He heard fighting outside the dark room. He hoped it was Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf. He hoped that they'd come to rescue him. He heard the fighting stop and Gimli's victory scream.

        Legolas breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his body. He shouldn't have. He felt an excruciating pain as his arm ripped from his body and left him to dangle by his other arm. He screamed in agony and then everything went black. Well, black-er.

        Legolas screamed. His shoulder was burning and his head was throbbing. He couldn't take this. Aragorn and Gandalf ran into his room, closely followed by Gimli. Aragorn and Gandalf went to work changing the bandage and trying to keep their Elven friend calm. Legolas was sobbing and cursing in Sindarin. He cursed the Orcs and Uruk-hai. He cursed himself. He cursed the world. He cursed his life.

        Aragorn tried to comfort his friend, but Legolas would not accept it. He told Aragorn that it would be better if he'd died in the Orc's hands. He insisted that he was now rendered useless. He could no longer use his bow and arrows. He could no longer fight alongside his people. He would do no good as a king. Aragorn argued with him, but Legolas wouldn't listen.

        "What good am I if I cannot protect my people?" Legolas argued.

        "You give them hope, Legolas. They look up to you whether you can use your weapons or not. You will need help and you will need to adjust to this, but it will not affect your ability to lead," Gandalf answered.

        "Legolas, you are not hurting your people. If you wish to keep them safe, you will continue to protect them from the palace," Gimli assured.

        "Sure, sit safely hidden away while my people die. I think not. The Elves from Lothorien and Imladris have already gone to the Undying Lands, and so shall the Greenwood Elves. I want the people to be ready to leave in five days. Aragorn, please."

        "Alright," Aragorn sighed.

        The three left Legolas to get some rest. The Elf rose from the bed and made his way to the window. Wait, how was he able to walk? The healers must have used some sort of spell. He saw Aragorn making the announcement. Most of the Elves sighed with relief and a few cheered. The children looked at their parents with confusion, but soon got caught up in the excitement. Legolas smiled to himself, knowing he was doing something good for his people. Legolas returned to his bed and relaxed into sleep, but not for long. The dream of his father executing him returned; this time with Thranduil beheading his son to send him into darkness.

        Legolas awoke screaming. Aragorn rushed in and tried to comfort his friend, but nothing helped. He held Legolas - instead - until the sobbing stopped and gently rocked him until sleep took him again. Aragorn laid his friend back down and lay with him. Aragorn drifted to sleep himself and dreamt about his home. Arwen was there, along with their 3-year-old son. Arwen was trying to run the kingdom until he returned. He knew it was hard for her, and that he'd be home soon. As he came out of his dreams, Aragorn realized that Legolas was no longer asleep in bed, but standing at the window - a knife in his hand. Aragorn stood.

        "Legolas, are you alright?" Aragorn asked, taking a step toward the Elf.

        Legolas tensed, "I'm fine. I just thought I heard something."

        "Legolas..."

        "It's nothing."

        The next few days were like that, and Legolas' excuse was always the same. But the day of travel finally came. That day changed Legolas' friends' lives forever.

***

A/N  Two comments for an update.