Chapter 1: Guilty

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Beta: Ravenswing & Aranel

Rate: PG-13

Disclaimer: : I own only the plot; Tolkien though was the one that created the great world of Middle Earth. I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of the story.

Warning: Angst/violence.  Missing scenes.  Friendship/Family drama.  Overreacting.  AU. OOC.

Summary: Lord Elrond and the twins blamed him.  How could he look at his friend's face once again?  It was his fault and he knew it.

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Looking at the still form of his friend lying on the snow, the elf felt his knees hit the hard cold ground as he collapsed at his friend’s side, mumbling for his forgiveness.

"I am sorry…I did not mean to…" Legolas muttered, his eyes still locked on his friend.

Panic was driving the elf as he saw the crimson stain spreading over his friend’s clothes. He did not know what to do even as the guilt consumed his mind.

It was so fast – Legolas tried to recall what had happened – he never felt the presence that moving behind him, until those hands touched him.

Elladan and Elrohir were still staring at the bloodied sword that lay next to Legolas’ feet. They also saw the motionless form of their foster brother. And the blood that dripped from his body.

Elrohir stood in shock, not knowing what to do or how to act, but an enraged Elladan stormed towards the prince.  He shook him, ranting accusingly, “What were you thinking!"

Without waiting for an answer the distraught elf pushed Legolas aside, and with the help of his twin, carefully carried his wounded brother to their horses.

Elladan mounted his stallion, waiting for his brother to secure the man before they rode towards Imladris.  Elladan gave one last brief glance at Legolas who seemed lost in a trance, still in the same position where they found him.

Elladan momentarily hesitated; part of him knew he had to ride with his brothers – his father’s care was now crucial to Aragorn’s survival – but part of him wished to stay, to speak with and console his long-time friend.  The decision was made when, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard his twin’s voice.

"Elladan!"  Elrohir called, his voice arresting his brother's mind.  "Elladan, we must go, he is growing far weaker."

With that, Elladan turned Amur towards his brother and they reined their horses towards Imladris' border, leaving Mirkwood's prince alone in the cold.

Legolas could only stare at his blood-drenched sword, unable to do anything as the guilt riddled through his mind, blinding him to everything around him, making him unable to ascertain where he should go, or what he should do. 

Finally, he swallowed the lump in his throat. His fingers reached for the sword, grasping it as though it was never his. He returned the blade to its place. It simply did not seem right to clean it.

Walking, shoulders slumped, towards his horse, he mounted and headed toward Imladris, silently, earnestly praying that Aragorn was still alive.

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