Battle for Life

Summary: During the battle of Pelannor fields, Legolas receives a serious wound and is thrown into the Anduin river. Will Aragorn find him, and will he survive? Non-slash.

Pairing/s: None.

Warnings: A bit of blood I suppose.

Ah, and the fact I don't know much about Legolas I will make up some of his history. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Disclaimers: I don't own LotR.


Chapter One

Legolas was starting to feel it, the fatigue. No real rest for how many weeks already? Four? Perhaps even longer. Legolas could no longer remember a good night's sleep. It took out a lot of people, even an elf eventually. He had managed so far, however, now he was losing strength.

But he could not rest yet. The Orcs were still many in number, even with the Army of the Dead to help them. He had run out of arrows, and now turned around, his knives ready. Sure enough Orcs came running towards him, and he raised the knives to block.

After fighting for a while, he realized he was being pushed away, perhaps unintentionally. But by now he had strayed a good bit from the battle itself. He heard the water behind him, but Minas Tirith was not so far away. He would get rid of this group and get back to the city. It was growing quieter, which indicated the battle was nearly over.

He neatly avoided a blade coming his way and slashed one of his knives swiftly, the Orc crumpling to the ground with a hand against its neck, blood gushing out. Legolas figured he himself and his cloth would require a bath, as he had splatters of Orc blood up his leggings and even some on his arms and chest.

Realizing his mind was straying off the elf shook his head violently and returned to the battle at hand. There was no time to loose focus here, because that meant real death. He took out another Orc and took a step back. He regretted that as he nearly lost his balance. He was on the riverbank, he could hear the water. How smooth the sound was compared to the sounds of the battle.

His concentration slipped as he got away from the edge of the riverbank and a searing hot pain tore through his abdomen.

He staggered back and turned so he could see his attacker. A single Orc alive, and of course that Orc's blade was in his stomach. Legolas managed to kill the Orc with more luck than skill as his vision began to waver. His legs began to fold underneath him, and he felt more tired than before. His eyes slipped half-closed.

Suddenly another Orc. Legolas went down, had no strength to fight. But there were no more weapons. He felt the tremors in the Orc's hands as they lay on his arm. The creature was scared. The battle was lost for Sauron. He gained nothing in killing one elf. He gained more in running away.

Legolas felt himself be dragged, and his numb mind was sort of realizing what was happening. He was going to be thrown into the river, if he was right in what direction he was dragged to. The Orc was either loyal to Sauron to kill every one he could before going down or just simply stupid. The elf's tired eyes closed as he felt blood trickle down his chin from his mouth and nose. Aragorn had won this battle.

He felt slightly sorry he could not watch the joy of the victory, and dearly hoped his body could be found later so his father had not have to make yet another empty grave. His mother's missing body was enough, and then Legolas closed his eyes.


Legolas was not very old but he knew his father was sad, very sad. He had not seen his mother in several days but was afraid to disturb Thranduil with asking that, now when his father looked so sad. Maybe it had something to do with her. Had she gone to visit someone without telling them first? She had a reputation of being a bit absent-minded, so it was not that unusual.

Thranduil spotted him.


The elfling walked up to his father and looked at him.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked gently.

"Where is mother?" Legolas asked before he could stop the words tumbling out fro his mouth.

Thranduil's eyes got sadder.

"Mother… is not here," the elf said and lifted his son up.

"Where is she?" Legolas asked, getting worried. Something was clearly wrong here. He knew it. His father would not look so sad otherwise.

"She… has gone to meet her family."

Legolas frowned. What he knew of his mother's family was that they… were dead. His eyes widened and Thranduil swallowed thickly. His elfling was so little yet understood so much. Legolas' lower lip quivered.

"I'm so sorry," the older elf said and hugged Legolas tightly to himself.

He woke up.


It was cold wherever he was. Legolas managed with some troubles open his eyes. Immediately everything sprang back into place and everything started to hurt again.

His wound, his head, his limbs… his breathing. Something warm was slowly trickling down his cheek. He found no strength to get up his arm and check what is was. His muddled brain decided it was probably blood.

Almost his entire body was resting in the water. He felt the coldness slowly set in and realized he was going to die if he stayed in the water much longer. He felt no energy though nor any desire to move. Why did he have to move now again?

He heard calls. He faintly recognized some of Rohan's men, and blinked heavily. Aragorn… Gimli… they must be worried. Maybe he should get up anyway. His mind was so foggy he did not even think about this was life and death.

Slowly Legolas turned to his stomach, his wound stung a bit but not too bad; the blade was gone. He dug his fingers into the riverbank, and slowly dragged himself forward. It was a very slow and painful journey. Everything in his body hurt, and his vision was getting worse. He spit out blood from his mouth but it was slowing down. That could not really be a good sign as he saw his skin was white.

He lost the fight once he had gotten up so only his legs were in the water and turned to his side. He coughed, his throat hurt when doing that and he closed his eyes. There was no way he could do it.

Legolas opened his eyes again, staring empty in front of him. He saw dead Orcs, dead men, all mixed into each other. He heard faint calls, tried to summon up power to call out but found none. His voice was raspy, quiet even and he tried to get up on one elbow. There was no one close by and he tried again to call. No one would be able to hear him.

He felt his wound pull and put a hand against it. He felt the raw edges in his soft skin and his head fell down onto the ground.

I am so sorry, Aragorn… no, Estel. Forgive me that I cannot stay until the end. Forgive me.


Chapter two: Aragorn searches for his elven friend. What will he do once he finds Legolas?

Until later,