Prologue

It seemed as if the Heavens themselves were weeping, upon this sad, sad day. It was not known which of the two the world was crying for; the murdered, or the suspected murderer.
Numerous Elves were gathered around, as well as the inhabitants of Gondor. The mortals wept openly in their grief, while the Immortals were incapable of doing so. They had anger and sadness on their faces, as they watched the burial of one of their own.
The King of Gondor kept his composure barely, as he watched. A grim look was on his face, before he turned to the one who had caused it all. Anger and betrayal shone in the grey eyes, as they met blue ones.
Gandalf was looking at the suspected killer, and could not believe that this was so. Even though the kill was done by his bow and arrows, the wizard did not believe that the prisoner was guilty of this crime, if for no other reason than for what he was hearing the Elf say.
‘May Elbereth watch over your soul,’ Legolas Greenleaf whispered in Elvish to the departed, mourning the loss of a friend. A dear friend, who had not deserved this fate. The bound Elf felt eyes upon him, and looked back, betrayal and anger also in his flashing blue eyes. If Legolas could have wept, he would have. Not just for his dead friend, but for what was about to happen to him.
The two guards that were watching him received the signal from their king. Each were holding onto one of the two long ropes on the slender Elven wrists. One was on the right, and the other was on the left. At the signal, they yanked the imprisoned Elf forward, and dragged him over to their King.
Cold eyes met cold eyes, as Legolas’s legs were kicked out from under him, forcing him to kneel on the muddy ground. Gandalf saw the fear in the Elven Prince’s eyes, and cursed the day that Aragorn had turned aside his council on this matter. In a few moments, an innocent life would be taken, and Aragorn himself would be a murderer. “Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood,” Aragorn said, in a cold, empty voice. “You are charged with the murder of the Queen of Gondor, Arwen Evenstar. How do you plead?” It would make it much easier for Aragorn if Legolas would confess his crime and admit the truth.
“Innocent, as I have throughout my judgment,” Legolas answered, no trace of fear in his eyes. He knew in his heart that he was innocent.
The crowds booed and yelled names at the Elf, whom they believed was merely being proud. Anger flashed on several of the elves’ faces, though sadness, along with resignation was on King Thranduil’s face, as he watched. His youngest child was about to die.
Aragorn’s grey eyes gave Legolas a final, silent warning; if you do not confess, I will kill you, as is the law.
Legolas’s blue eyes answered, I cannot say I am guilty when I know am not. “Very well. Your punishment will be death, by beheading,” Aragorn said coldly. “Hold him down.”
The guards gripped the Elf’s arms, and forced him to bare his neck. Their king drew Anduril, and gently tapped the back of Legolas’ neck. Aragorn stood behind the Elf, and slowly brought the sword up.
Legolas spoke quietly, so only Aragorn could hear him. ‘You know I did not do this.’ ‘I know that my wife is dead, by your hands,’ Aragorn hissed. The sword began swinging down slowly, as if in slow motion.
Out of nowhere, a hooded rider appeared, galloping on a pure-white Elven horse. He brought up his bow and an arrow, and took careful aim, meaning only to wound. Then the arrow was released.
It plunged directly in Aragorn’s shoulder, and the king dropped his sword. Everyone cried out, except for Legolas. All pressed around the king, to aid him. ‘I swear, by the blood that has already been spilled from me, you will pay for this, Strider. One day, I will get my revenge. For you know as well as I that I never touched Arwen,’ Legolas told his former friend, before yanking free of the two guards that held him.
The figure on horseback rode towards him, and offered a hand. Legolas took it, and swung up behind him. The two made their getaway, leaving behind a stunned crowd. Gandalf was relieved, as he watched the two figures disappear as fast as the rider had come.
King Thranduil of Mirkwood locked eyes with the wizard, with barely disguised relief. A life as an outcast was better than no life, and he had done what he could to save his son. It was up to them, now. Though Elessar would probably pursue them forever.
Aragorn was pain-stricken, as he was assisted to the nearest bed, where his injury could be tended to. He had heard what Legolas had said, before escaping. The blond Elf would face his own wrath, as soon as he was found. Right now, however, it was imperative that the arrow be removed. Once he was whole, he would find the one that had killed his wife, or die trying. It did not matter Aragorn what Legolas had meant to him in the past.
Legolas clung to the figure in front of him, breathing hard. That had been too close, though he had truly expected to die. He briefly wondered who his rescuer was, as they galloped through the rain. It had abated slightly.
The silent, hooded figure continued to press the horse further, until they were miles from Gondor, inside of a dark forest. The trees were tall, and gloomy, at least to Legolas. He had been facing his potential death.
When they were around the middle of the forest, the unknown person drew the horse to a stop, before dismounting into the soaked earth. Legolas did the same, looking at the figure.
‘Who are you?’ Legolas questioned, not daring to voice he hoped it was. The hood was pulled off, and the figure was revealed. ‘Haldir!’ Legolas cried, before rushing into the strong arms of his lover. ‘How did you-’
Haldir embraced the younger Elf. ‘Your father wrote and told me what had happened. I was afraid I would be too late.’
The two stayed close, embracing each other. ‘I need to find somewhere to hide,’ Legolas said. ‘I will not be accepted anywhere, because of what they think I did.’
‘I know. And I am coming with you,’ Haldir told the one he loved firmly. Legolas shook his head. ‘You’ll never see our Kin again, lest they shoot us. I cannot do that to you.’
Haldir firmly said, ‘I will not leave you again. And you do not know me very well if you think I will go.’
Legolas smiled, relieved. ‘It will be good to have you with me.’ Haldir tenderly kissed Legolas, a burning kiss of passion and desire. They clung to each other tighter, as warmth sizzled through their veins. It also relieved some of the tension that the younger Elf had, which was not surprising, considering what he’d been going through for the past few days.
‘Mmm…’ Legolas murmured, enjoying the sweet taste of Haldir’s lips. He held it for a few moments, before breaking the contact. ‘Tis not safe right now. Better to wait until we know we are safe.’
Haldir nodded. ‘I will follow you, Legolas. To Mordor if need be.’ The two mounted once more, their desire and passion evident in their flushed faces, even as rain trickled down around them.
‘I do not think we will have to go to Mordor. But Aragorn-’ the name was said with hate and anger-‘will hunt us forever.’
‘Then we will stay together forever,’ Haldir said calmly. ‘I need no other if I am with you.’
‘As long as you are by my side, I need nothing else,’ Legolas told him, as the two galloped off, wondering where their path would take them.


Severed Bond
I stood at the window, looking out at the rain.
It seems like its always raining, ever since Arwen…
A deep sigh escaped from me.
It feels like it was just yesterday when I found her laying lifeless in the garden, with one of *his* arrows in her heart. The discarded bow had been laying nearby. I knew that bow well, for Galadriel had given to *him*.
I thought the pain would get easier, but instead it has gotten worse. Knowing that Legolas lives burns me up inside. I wish that I’d gotten the chance to finish what I’d started. But he knew me better than anyone, and knew to keep ahead of me. I will never stop chasing him, until I get my revenge.
I did not care that I had once loved him, or that he had once loved me. But Legolas had destroyed any trace of the love that I might still have felt for him when he murdered Arwen. Was it jealousy? He hadn’t seemed that upset when we finally parted, though Legolas never did show if he was hurting or not.
He was there the day Arwen and I wed, and did not say if it pained him to watch me wed another. Legolas wouldn’t have, for it was not his way. He had not wanted to hurt Arwen, for he was supposedly a close friend to her. What was it, then, that had made him do such a terrible thing?

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We were sweethearts in summer, lovers by fall
But wintertime came and put a chill to it all
Now we cannot forgive what we will not forget
We’ve both said things that we should regret

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I’ve gone everywhere he’s been spotted, but I’ve always heard the same thing. “They just left town.”
Legolas was always one step ahead of me. He and Haldir. The news that Haldir of ‘Lorien was the one who stopped me from killing Legolas was shocking. Many had thought he’d gone West, but apparently not, for he had saved my former friend from death.
Legolas claimed he was innocent, but that cannot be. He refused to say where he was the night Arwen was murdered, and I know for a fact that he was not seen by anyone in my kingdom. So he was hiding something.
Then there was the matter of the weapons used against Arwen. Only he had those particular arrows, and that special bow. An Elf would not just leave his weapons laying around where anyone could use them. Legolas hadn’t had an explanation for why they were in the garden, though he said he had not taken his bow or quiver with him when he left.
Gandalf believes in his innocence, but I do not. If he was innocent, he would not keep running from me. Instead, he would say where he was that night. He said he hadn’t even been in Gondor.
I remembered how limp Arwen had been. Shock was the expression on her face, and hurt. Someone she knew had killed her, but the only person I believed that it could be was Legolas. He was the only one close enough to Arwen to take her by surprise. Her blood had stained my clothes, as I shouted her name in grief. The arrow…that cursed Elven arrow of death… It had the markings of the Prince of Mirkwood. I knew those arrows to well to mistake them for another’s. I’d seen Legolas working on them numerous times. And that golden bow…
Anything I felt for him, friendship, caring… anything at all… It had all died that day, as I had lifted my dead wife in my arms, and cradled her to my chest. I cried my agony to the night.

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Now my love for you has turned to hate
It’s a total reversal of emotional states
A sad conclusion I have to relate
My love for you has turned to hate

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Gandalf had been the first to come, then the guards followed him. None had seen Legolas; they did not know where he was. I ordered messengers sent to Rivendell, to tell Elladan and Elrohir of what had occurred.
When Legolas showed up hours late, I ordered him to be brought to me- by force, if necessary. He’d been dragged to me, with confusion and hurt in his eyes. The Elven prince hadn’t seemed to know what was going on.
I’d informed him of Arwen’s death; he turned ashen before me and asked who had done it. I held up the arrow that had been removed from my wife, and flung it at him. Legolas had caught it, bewildered, and had looked back at me. I then showed him his bow.
“You killed her,” I’d coldly said. “And you will pay the price.”
Legolas gasped, “I did not! I would never kill Arwen, and I just returned from…” He closed his mouth, hiding something.
My face hardened. “How dare you deny it! She was found dead with your arrow in her and your bow nearby.”
“How can you accuse me?” he questioned in Western. ‘Amin irma quen, Aragorn.’ (I desire to speak, Aragorn.)
‘Dina, wethrinaer!’ I snapped. (Be silent, deceitful one!)

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The bright summer sun left us blinded and sure
That we’d both found a love that was bound to endure
But then the clouds rolled in and as my eyes adjusted
I was staring at someone who couldn’t be trusted

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Anguish was on Legolas’ face, for he knew that I was serious.
I hated him and I hated myself for hating him. He looked bewildered as he stood there gazing at me in shock, and I clenched my teeth. “Get him out of my sight and lock him up, while I decide his punishment,” I hissed.
Legolas was roughly grabbed by the arms and dragged away. ‘Mankoi, Aragorn?” he whispered. (Why, Aragorn?) His voice pleaded for understanding. Why was he acting like he didn’t know why I was doing this? He was trying to trick me, I decided. I remained silent, until I could no longer hear his Elvish words.
“Do you truly believe that Legolas killed Arwen?” Gandulf asked, an edge in his voice.
I looked at him. “If I did not, he would not be a prisoner,” I retorted. I calmly took a sip from the goblet of wine I held. It made me feel better to take my anger out on the one who had done this. Legolas had insisted that he was innocent, but would not speak of where he had been.

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I felt the hot summer sun through my cotton shirt
Then I had wine that reminded me of cherries and dirt
But then I caught the smell of fresh fallen leaves
And heard a lonely bird singing in a skeleton tree

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I truly did not want to kill him, and it nearly broke my heart when I informed him of my decision. The coldness in his blue eyes had shattered me into pieces, but I never let him see it. How could my wife’s murderer affect me like this?
I was angry at everyone, but mostly myself. It was easier to take it out on Legolas, especially when I believed that he was guilty.
The facts were against him. None had seen him anywhere else around the time that the Healers had told me that Arwen was probably killed; his weapons had been used, and he was not known for leaving them lying around; Legolas refused to say where he had been, which was a definite sign that he was hiding something; and a strand of blond hair had been found on Arwen. Very few blond Elves were in Gondor or came to visit; Legolas was the exception. Or had been.
I sighed, and brought my thoughts up to the present day. It was winter once more, and snow covered most of Middle Earth.
And still I missed Arwen. I was a king, so I was not allowed to grieve in public. I had loved her dearly, and now the only emotion I felt was burning hatred. Legolas and Haldir had been spotted once more, in a remote town known as Sorin. I was heading there in a few hours, as soon as the wind and billowing snow died down once more.

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Now there’s snow on the ground and a chill in my heart
I’m waiting for the thaw and a brand-new start
I know Spring follows Winter, then it’s Summer again
But I don’t think that we’ll ever be friends

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When I found Legolas, I was going to make him suffer greatly. I remembered what he had told me, of getting his own revenge against me for the whipping he’d received. I had been trying to force a confession out of him, for the laws, which I had not decreed- they were created by Denethor- said that if a convicted killer did not confess, he had to die.
Stubborn to the last, Legolas never confessed. He continued his claims of innocence, right up to the point where I’d been about to kill him. Then Haldir had interfered. I’d seen the look in those blue eyes; Legolas had been expecting to die. Why had Haldir saved him? I didn’t understand that. Nor had I understood Gandalf’s valiant defense of the Elven prince. Gandalf felt that Legolas was innocent and had not committee the crime for which he had been sentenced to die for.
But it was no matter. The laws said that Legolas had to die, though I knew that part of me was loathe to do it.
To never hear his laughter or soft voice again, to never see his fair beauty or feel the touch of a friend once more… that hurt. But I had my duty to fulfill. Even if my heart would lead me astray.
And I hated my heart, for I hated him. Why did I care if he died or not? Legolas deserved it for doing this to me.



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