Legolas' Dilemma: Caught
by SkyFire

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did. Rabid plotbunnies, however, are all mine, and they bite
*hard*! ;)

A/N: 1)This is the fourth in the "Dilemma" arc. The order for reading this arc is: "Legolas'
Dilemma," "Legolas' Dilemma: Aragorn," and "Legolas' Dilemma: the Surprise." Read those first.
Trust me, you have to to know what's going on.

2)Thoughts are in / /.

Legolas' Dilemma: Caught
by SkyFire

Legolas awoke barely an hour after he'd gone to sleep. He sat up in bed, considering what he
should do. The aroma of the roses Aragorn had brought into the room still filled the air with
their cloying scent.

/I could go back to sleep,/ he thought, ticking it off on his fingers. /I could get up. I could
pack and get out of here in the morning. I could pack up and get out of here *now*./

That last one sounded *very* good to him, especially considering all that had happened of late.
What with Aragorn, Arwen and Elrond after him, staying in Minas Tirith was probably *not* the
wisest thing for him to do.

/So it's decided. I'm leaving. Now./ He sighed softly to himself. /Gimli would have been
welcome company, but I dare not take the time to look for him. Our trip to the Glittering Caves
and Fangorn Forest will just have to wait./

With that thought in mind, Legolas got up out of bed, then pulled on his clothes. He took his
pack from the wardrobe and quickly packed his things. Packed, he strapped on his weapons, pulled
on his cloak, then shouldered his pack and went to the door.

His fingers had barely touched the handle when it occurred to him that Aragorn might not have
gone quite as far away as he had thought. It had, after all, happened before.

/It would be just like him to stand guard out there, waiting to ambush me again,/ Legolas thought
with a frown as he stared at the heavy wood door.

Silently, Legolas dropped to his knees, then peered out into the hallway via the small space
between the door and the floor. For his efforts, he was greeted by the sight of Aragorn's rump,
still clothed in the robe Legolas had given him not long before. He was sitting there with his
back against the door. It would be impossible to open it without the Ranger falling back into
the room and waking up.

The Elf frowned again, then got up and silently backed away. Angry thoughts running through his
head, most involving Aragorn, honey, fireants, anthills and pointy sticks, Legolas turned and
went further into the room. He saw the still-open window and went over.

He peered out of it, saw that he could climb down the wall, though with a little difficulty.

With a last glance around the room, Legolas scrambled out the window and inched his way slowly
down the wall.

Twenty minutes later, he was down.

"Fine night for climbing, is it, Prince of Mirkwood?" asked an over-sweet voice from the shadows
of a night-blooming rosebush.

The sound of the voice sent shivers down the escapee's spine. He knew who spoke, knew as well
that his voice only sounded like that when he was very angry and about to unleash some horrible
fate upon the person to whom he was speaking.

Legolas swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet between the two.

In the distance, there was a brief shout of drunken laughter as people walked the streets of the
city, either heading for home or another tavern. At the other end of the garden, a trio of
musically-inclined cats yowled their favorite song to the accompaniment of chirping crickets.

The other let loose a low, menacing chuckle. "What is it, son of Thranduil? Worried about
something, perhaps?" the voice asked, tones still sickeningly sweet.

Legolas felt drops of chill, nervous sweat form all over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but
found his voice frozen- he could not sound the words. Which was just as well, as his mind had
gone blank except for the feeling of imminent doom at the first sound of the other's voice.

As the other stepped even closer, he continued to back away until his back was pressed firmly up
against the wall behind him, leaving him no escape. Still, he pressed back, hoping without hope
that some miracle would occurr to allow him to become part of the wall, or at least have it
swallow him whole.

"Well, Legolas of Mirkwood?" asked the voice. "Have you nothing to say for yourself? Nothing
you wish to tell me? You do know who I am, do you not?"

Legolas could do nothing but nod shakily. He knew who the other was, all right.

"Let us be certain, then. Speak my name."

"E-e-e... E-El-Elrond."


Elrond smirked down at the pertified Prince of Mirkwood, the moonlight partially illuminating his
face, yet at the same time leaving it hidden in sinister shadow. Shadow which also served to
conceal his overall disarray; hair wild and tangled about his head, robes twisted strangely and
wrinkled as if having been pulled on by many hands.

He chuckled again at the tremor in the other's voice when he spoke Elrond's name.

/He looks like he is about to wet himself!/ he laughed inwardly. /He is right to be worried. He
stole Aragorn from Arwen on her wedding day!/

"Yes, Elrond," he said. "Now, what have you to say for yourself? What reason could you have for
stealing Aragorn away from Arwen, and on that day, of all others?"

"But I didn't," squeaked the Wood Elf. "Steal him, that is."

Elrond frowned, his face forming the expression his sons politely called the 'Go to Mordor Look
of Rivendell.' "You deny that Aragorn left Arwen for you?"

"N-no? But I didn't encourage him! I didn't know he would do that! I-"

"Didn't encourage him? You told him you loved him!"

"I didn't! I don't! If I did, do you think I would have climbed down the wall to avoid him?"

"I don't believe you."

Legolas looked as if his one and only hope had just been yanked out from under him, crumpled up,
burnt, and fed to a Balrog. "But-"

"This is your one and only warning, Greenleaf: Stay away from Aragorn! I am trying to get he and
my daughter back together and your continual presence around him is not helping matters any!
Keep away from him, or face the wrath of the Lord of Rivendell."

With that, Elrond turned and walked away.

Legolas groaned. "I've been *trying* to stay away from him ever since that day."

He realized that he should have kept the thought silent when he saw Elrond stiffen sharply, then
turn, eyes blazing with fury. Apparently, the half-Elf hadn't *quite* been out of earshot.

The Prince paled as Elrond stalked back to him, every line of his body reflecting near-homicidal

"*What* did you just say?" came the demand. The voice was no longer sweet; Elrond was too angry
for even that small effort.

"I... I-"

"Is there something *wrong* with my foster son?"

/Great,/ thought Legolas. /First he was angry with me because I loved Aragorn, now he's angry
with me because I *don't*./

"Well? Speak! Is there something *wrong* with him that you dare to insult him in my presence?"

"I... I-"

Elrond glared down at the younger Elf, close enough to see how his fear-dilated green eyes were
flecked here and there with specks of gold, close enough to feel the other's quick breaths on his
skin, close enough to easily see the speeding pulse at the other's throat.

Legolas whimpered. The half-Elf was too close, too intimidating, too... too much. He felt much
too close for comfort to claustrophopia and nausea, and he felt himself beginning to
hyperventilate. His heart pounded in his chest as if it he had just run the length of Middle-
Earth. The long way.

"You will not speak more? Know then that you will face the full extent of my fury. You would
meddle with the hearts of others? Then you shall have your own meddled with in turn. I have
already spoken with those fangirls and spread the word that you have fallen head-over-heels in
love with one of them. I had been about to go and tell them that I was mistaken, but now?" He
shrugged. Elrond gave the chilling little chuckle again, then turned. He cast a last glance
over his shoulder as he went, saw Legolas leaning limply against the wall, face very pale. For a
brief moment, he wondered if perhaps he had gone too far, then shook his head. Mirkwood's Prince
had interfered in his daughter's happiness and therefore deserved what he was going to get. "You
have perhaps twenty minutes before the word is spread to each and they begin to hunt. Use it
well, son of Thranduil."

As Elrond walked away, quickly swallowed up by moonlight and shadow, Legolas gave a small whimper.

Fear tightened his throat, cutting his breaths short even as it seemed to sieze his stomach in an
iron grasp. His breaths came quicker and quicker, coming even faster as he realized that no
matter how fast he was breathing, he wasn't getting enough air. There just wasn't enough air.

Clutching at his throat with one hand, Legolas staggered away from the wall where he had stood
exposed, managed to stagger over to a clump of thick, leafy rosebushes before he collapsed to his
knees. Crawling, desperate to find somewhere where he was safe from both Aragorn and the fangirls
that would come, he pushed his way into the middle of the thicket, finding a small clearing there,
large enough for him to huddle, and curled himself into a little ball.

Still not able to get enough air into himself, and now with the relief of being temporarily safe,
Legolas let the enclosing darkness sweep up and carry him away. Without even a small sound of
protest, Legolas gave in to unconsciousness.

His last conscious thought before the darkness closed in was: /I *have* to get out of this city!/


Poor Legolas! Naaaasty Elrond! ;) I'm thinking that there will be one (maybe two) more fic in
this story arc.... Not entirely sure yet...

So, what did you think? Leave a review and let me know, hmm?