So this chapter is set maybe three weeks on from the next one. Aragorn is like on the brink of extinction and Legolas had been having the dreams about the Witch King every night. So yeah I didn't want to write another filler so I just stuck it up here! But enough ranting! Onwards and Upwards! On to the actual story...

Enjoy...

Legolas stumbled. The human in his arms gasped in pain at the sudden movement and the Prince instantly regretted his clumsiness. Stars, what's wrong with me? He thought in frustration.

In truth, Legolas knew that was wrong with him. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from walking night and day with the human. Hunting, finding water, guarding every night. It had all steadily taken its toll on his elven body. Damn mortals. Can't take care of themselves, can they? But then again, it was him who had walked right into the Nazgul's trap. There were more heroic ways to get captured, that was for sure.

His bones felt heavy, his head pounding. Every step felt as though someone had filled his boots with stones and forced him to walk. There was only one thing keeping him going.

He was home.

Home, in Greenwood. In Mirkwood. Back beneath the trees that had been his companions all his long life. And every sluggish step took him closer and closer to Thranduil's halls. He should arrive today.

The very prospect of seeing his father again filled every part of him with joy. So why was one part of him still holding back? Something in the back of his mind, elvish foresight maybe, told him that maybe going back wasn't such a good idea. He pushed the thought aside. He hadn't rescued this damn mortal only to see him die.

In all honesty, Legolas had no idea how the human was still breathing. His brow crinkled. There was more to this man than met the eye, that much was certain. Something about him seemed almost familiar, like a ghost of a memory. Which is what it probably was. Maybe Legolas had known his father...? Shaking his head, the elf sighed. These mortals all looked the same to him.

The human was a mortal. So why wasn't he dead? Legolas doubted some elves could have survived this long. But this man had. It didn't make sense.

Shut up and get home. He told himself. Stop fretting about why he's alive and focus on trying to keep it that way instead.

Images swirled in his mind of the palace, of his father. He was looking forward to getting back.

———

Finally, he was here. The gates swung open, their slight screeches of protest accompanied by the shouts of guards at seeing a rather bedraggled Prince Legolas carrying... was that a human in his arms? Murmurs spread through the crowds gathered all around.

Legolas, however, was unaware of all this. Oh Valar, he thought. Wha- Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the floor in an exhausted heap and did not rise again.

Citizens of all ranks rushed forward in an attempt to help the fallen royalty, and even a few common thieves wound their way in in the hope of picking up few extra coins from unsuspecting villagers, and maybe even the prince himself. But none of them got close enough for that as the guards formed a firm ring about him. The healers were quickly summoned and both prince and ranger were carried away.

———

Legolas attempted to open his eyes. This proved strangely difficult, however, and his eyelids remained firmly closed. Confusion and panic gripped him simultaneously and he held up a hand to feel his face when a sharp slap brought it hastily back down again. Legolas froze. He was not alone.

Then a motherly voice floated out of the perceived darkness. It was warm, boisterous, rich and distinctly elvish. The accent seemed strangely familiar, like his own.

"Be still, young Prince. You are not ready to be exerting so much energy. And for love of the Valar, keep away from your eyes! They're bandaged against the light. Your exhaustion has given you an illness and it's best not to look at much, it'll make it worse. Now lie still and try to get some rest, you need it!"

He was home. Memory flooded back. The Nazgûl, the escape, the homecoming. Collapsing. Welcoming blackness.

Legolas nestled back against the soft pillows and sighed. Not that he thought moving had exerted any energy, nor did he think that he needed so much rest, but he was still tired, and darkness beckoned. He slipped once more into unconsciousness.

Home. Aren't you lucky? But do you think that your home can protect you from me? Impossible. I am coming for you Prince. You are not forgotten. Remember that. And when I arrive my vengeance will be so great and terrible that I will force you to your knees, begging for mercy. I hope you are ready. I am ready.

I'm coming...

Legolas awoke, panting and covered with sweat. Throwing the blankets off himself, he sat up and concentrated on breathing. The cool air of the forest soothed him, and the adrenaline faded. It was over. He had escaped from Angmar. He had taken the human here. They were both safe.

So why was he still dreaming of the Nazgûl? Why did the hissing whisper still haunt his dreams? Legolas had a terrible feeling that he should not have returned. He had not escaped the Witch-King, he had merely brought the dark being's wrath upon his own home.

The human. Legolas started. Where was he? Was he even alive? In his terror and exhaustion he had forgotten that the ranger even existed.

Pulling off the ridiculous blindfold, and hissing as his eyes ached in the faint light, Legolas stumbled upright. That human had better of survived. After all that effort I've gone to to rescue him, I swear by Manwë if he's died... Legolas' threat trailed off as he realised that he genuinely cared about the man. Somehow, the human had given him courage in Angmar, strength on the journey home. He owed this human his life just as much as the human owed Legolas his. Better find him then.

The short trip down the corridor was short and unpleasant, but eventually Legolas made it to the ranger's room. Cracking he door open, he slunk through and crossed to the bed. Fatigue caught up with him and he sank into the chair waiting there.

The human looked... dreadful. His skin was pale, near-white, and his lips were blue. His once-bright silver eyes were dimmed a dull grey. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, as if he were running hard and couldn't catch his breath. Legolas had seen many elves and humans like this before. None had survived. But then... this human was different. Perhaps, maybe, he would survive. A glimmer of hope shone in the Prince's mind. This man was going to live. He was going to make sure of it.

———

Aragorn stirred. Each limb felt impossibly heavy. Each muscle ached. His head pounded. His shoulder was on fire. Healer's instincts, and healers themselves, actually, crowded his senses. He was dying. He could feel it in every breath he took.

Dimly, as if far off, he could here the other occupants of the room talking. He couldn't make it out clearly, but it sounded as if they were discussing something. Him, probably.

Through huge effort, he opened one eye. Blackness. Of course. His whole world was dark now. Still, he could hear the healers. If only he knew what they were saying... straining his ears, he listened. As he awoke fully, the voices became clearer.

"He's not going to survive. There's nothing we can do. Let's just put him out of his pain and misery now."

"No. We can't. It's not our right. He's just a boy. We can't take his life off him yet..."

"Plus the Prince would be furious. If he found out we were even discussing it-"

The first voice interrupted again: "No, Eilphyn, it is for he best. Would you rather he died like this; slowly, painfully, or quickly and easily? We have the power to give him that. It's the least we can do. It's the least he deserves."

The third voice, Eilphyn, spoke. Her voice was light and musical. But a note of diversity in it showed that she was not one to be underestimate. "But the Prince... Gillas, come on, please!"

Gillas, the second voice, spoke up. "I'm sorry Eilphyn. Hardon's right. He's young, but it's for the best really. We shall inform the king tomorrow and then... well, we shall... do it."

Hardon sounded impatient as he spoke. "He's mortal anyway. What difference does a few years make?"

Eilphyn still sounded unsure. "Well, I suppose... we will tell the king tomorrow. Yes, it is for the best. Now come, let us leave. I do not wish to stay here any longer."

Gillas spoke again as they left. "What should we tell the Prince?"

Hardon replied. "Nothing. He will only try to stop us. He is a warrior. He does not understand. Do not speak of this to anyone, do you understand?"

They must have agreed because Aragorn heard footsteps and then the door slamming as they left.

———

Legolas fled down the corridor as the healers began to leave. They're going to kill him? After everything I went through to save him? No. Surely Ada would understand. He will not allow it. I will speak to him.

But then he remembered something Hardon had said: "He is a warrior. He does not understand..."

And he didn't. So maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was for the best. At least the ranger could die in peace here. What did he know, after all? No, it was for the best. The man would sleep in eternal darkness here. At least he had tried. There was nothing more he could have done.

Little did he know that darkness was about to come to him.

———

That night, he dreamt again.

Murderer... The voice hissed. Do not forget me.

I am coming.

Sorry I know I promised more action in this chapter! Aaaargh why can't I stop writing fillers?!

Anyway yeah there's a little twist for ya there! The next chapter is gonna be a short one by the way, and as you can probably tell I've been really busy and had so much on that the next one will probably take ages as well!

Also I need to update my other story, A Dying Star - please read if you don't already! And also I'm starting a joint story with PackWolfLegolas on a joint account called WeAreMellyn ! Please follow if you follow either me OR PackWolfLegolas !

Also please VOTE and comment if you enjoyed! Thank you!