Note: This fic is rated R. This is a revised version of 'Falling Tears'. None of these characters are mine! This story contains Aragorn/Legolas slash! Sorry this took so long! A big thank you to WhiteWolf, without her help, this would not have been written, and she co-wrote this with me.

Final chapter coming soon, as soon as WhiteWolf and I finish it!

My home computer's motherboard has crashed, so until I get it repaired or replaced, my updates will be limited. I apologize for that, as I know that I am already behind in updates, and I hope that you reviewers will bear with me until I get my computer fixed. In the meantime, I will try to write stories at home in notebooks and type them at school and in libraries.

Final Battle,

Part 9 of 10

Co-Written by:

A.J. Matthews

      and

WhiteWolf

*************

 Legolas

*************

I no longer heard the sounds of pursuit from Gimli and the Hobbits, for which I was glad. They need never know the reasons why this confrontation between the men had come about. It was bad enough that the confrontation had occurred, but I would not let either the Dwarf or the Hobbits realize that it was because of me. Because of what Boromir had done to me, because Aragorn was outraged on my behalf and sought to protect me, to keep Boromir from ever hurting me again.

I found my mind drifting back to all that time again, on Caradhras, when Boromir had said, 'It is a strange fate… that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… such a little thing…' as he held the Ring, after it had come unfastened from Frodo's neck. I hadn't understood the meaning behind those words at that time, but I believed that I understood them better now.

Boromir had, indeed, desired me, without the Ring there to channel his desire into something much more dark and dangerous. It was because of that, mainly, that Boromir had done as he had, when he raped me. If only I had seen sooner that the Ring was getting a claim on Boromir's mind, but it had been so subtle that not even I, a Prince of Mirkwood, had realized the truth until it was too late.

The Ring had caused so much suffering and grief, and it was such a small thing, which had brought such pain and anguish to me, to Boromir, and to young Frodo Baggins. I did not envy the Ringbearer for his burden; it was one I would have been hesitant to take up.

The forest was strangely silent as I slowed and jumped lightly through the trees still chasing after the two men. Aragorn was fast to have traveled so far before I began my chase on him.

I swung off a branch, landing cat-like onto a slightly lower one where I could study the forest floor below me, taking a few moments to catch my breath. I had to find them before it was too late, and being breathless would not help me at all.

My hand throbbed a little, the bandage turning a little darker as it soaked up my blood, but it was no matter; my healing ability would take care of it, and I had far more pressing concerns right now.

I ignored the pain, choosing to focus instead on reading the signs on the grass and field below me, which would tell me of the direction Aragorn had taken Boromir.

I frowned in confusion, before noticing the slightly trampled grass. The man had obviously taken no precautions to hide his whereabouts from me. I smiled in wry amusement before climbing higher into the tree and taking off again. My legs pumped as I ran through the branches, speeding up a little in hope of finding them sooner.

Surely Aragorn would not… He could not kill another of the Fellowship…

I paused suddenly and jumped down again. Something wasn't right; I could feel it in the air, and in the trees. I squinted from my perch in one of the trees, my eyes sweeping the forest floor for any clues. I could detect none.

I lowered myself to the ground and looked about me, my body alert. Behind me, in the direction I had just come, there were signs that showed someone passing through, but they stopped where I stood now. I sighed in my despair and searched around again. Someone had definitely passed through here, so where were Aragorn and Boromir?

My mind puzzled over this for mere seconds before my face paled. I turned and glanced at the clues again. Someone had come this far, but only one person.

"Damn you, Aragorn!" I hissed into the forest about me as I realized that the man had planned this.

How could Aragorn have known what was to happen?

Had he perhaps planned on the confrontation between himself and Boromir and set up this trail knowing I would try to stop him? He was correct, if that had been his intention, for I would have tried to keep him from killing Boromir.

I cursed and began backtracking. I had to find them and soon, before Aragorn did something he would regret.

Or, taunted a voice inside of me, before Boromir once more gains strength from the One Ring and overpowers Aragorn. As long as the Ring had a hold on Boromir, no one could be certain he could be trusted.

My blood ran cold. No, Aragorn was a man. He was strong. Not for nothing was he the foster son of the Lord of Rivendell, and heir to the throne of Gondor. He could outmatch Boromir with or without the Ring aiding him.

Despite myself, I sped up.

*************

Aragorn

*************

Boromir and I glared at each other, hate in our eyes.

I was sickened to realize that I had once wanted him to be a friend, when I now loathed his very sight. I could not look at him without remembering everything that I had seen, heard, and felt.

Boromir… raping Legolas… The pain, the hurt on my Elf's face, in his shining, starlit eyes.

Boromir calling Legolas a whore… The pale color on Legolas' face at that cruel remark, with his golden hair shimmering like the sun.

Legolas weeping in my arms that first night, begging me to hold him… Such pain and sadness, more than anything Legolas should have gone through. Yet amidst the pain he felt, Legolas had done his best to stay strong, but not even an Elf could be unaffected by what he had gone through.

Our conversation in the trees, where I finally claimed him as mine for as long as he wanted me. The soft words…the sweet kisses…

Legolas was right… I protect what is mine.

I should kill Boromir… but I won't. Legolas does not want me to kill him, so I will not do so, unless I have no other choice. This isn't just about Legolas, though I was severely angered about what Boromir had done to him, but if the Ring could twist Boromir's desires into something that dangerous, the rest of the Fellowship could be in danger from him.

I had sworn to protect Frodo with my life or death, and I meant to keep that vow.

I easily deflected another blow that he sent at me, as he aimed directly at my heart. Anduril sliced across Boromir's right arm, before avoiding a second blow to my neck. He fought only to severely injure me, kill me… Did he not realize that it was going to tire him out before too long?

Did he not know that I had been trained to fight in my foster home, amongst the Elves of Rivendell? Elladan and Elrohir, my foster brothers, had trained me well, along with Lord Elrond himself and Glorfindel. I was no amateur at fighting, and my experience as a Ranger had only increased my fighting skills.

Boromir was wasting energy, as he relentlessly tried to kill me. I was reserving my strength, waiting for when he grew too tired to fight any longer.

Our swords sang through their air as they clashed, the sounds of

metal striking metal echoing between us as we fought, for vastly

different reasons. I fought to protect Legolas from Boromir, for he

was mine now and I do not let harm come to those who are mine.

Legolas would not be hurt any further by Boromir; I would not allow

it! He had been hurt too much already, and suffered greatly because

of it. I could not believe that Legolas had lived through being

raped, for it was supposed to be fatal to Elves...

I also fought for the safety of the rest of the Fellowship. If Boromir could turn on Legolas, then he could betray the rest of us, though he had already done so by his actions towards the fair Prince of Mirkwood. We were a Company, supposed to be like a brotherhood, yet Boromir had done something despicable, when he attacked and raped my best friend. If the others knew what he had done, none of them would ever trust him again.

And I was filled with self-doubt…

Surely Gandalf would have foreseen what Boromir would do. He would not have ignored Legolas' words of warning against Boromir, or tried to ease his fears by teasing him about it, before saying that Boromir would never break his vow. And that was what I had done.

I hated what Boromir had done, for never before had I seen Legolas so distraught, so plagued with grief and shame. Legolas may have sacrificed himself to Boromir, to save the Hobbits from being raped, but he was not willing when Boromir took him. The look in Legolas' eyes, when I'd seen Boromir taking him, proved that he had been anything but willing.

In my opinion, Boromir was the one most at fault. Yes, the Ring had corrupted him, at least partly, but he had put Legolas in the position of having to sacrifice himself, for fear of the halflings being hurt. A rape was a rape, and that was what Boromir had done.

I was partially angry with myself, because I had not realized sooner what Boromir was doing to my best friend… I was supposed to be Legolas' best friend, but I had not known that Boromir was raping someone so dear and close to me.

The signs were there, but I had failed to notice. I had failed my best friend and heed his words of warning, and therefore, because of my failure, Legolas had suffered.

My sword sliced at Boromir's left arm, and Anduril gleamed brightly in the light, before he barely blocked it, twisting his arm and trying to send his blade into my heart. Reacting with the speed of an Elf, my sword swung to meet his and deflected the blow. Before Boromir had a chance to strike again, I sliced across his arm, drawing blood.

*************

 Legolas

*************

My mind was in a panic now. I was still trying to find the men, but every turn I made seemed to be the wrong one.

Where could they have gone?

I stopped and forced myself to relax. I was an Elf; I should be able to find two Men as easily as I could climb a tree. I searched my surroundings, my eyes and ears searching once more for clues or sounds.

I stood up straight. There was something around that shouldn't be. I strained my hearing and picked up the faint echoes of swords clashing. Aragorn! But wait… there was a closer sound, a trampling sound.

Something wasn't right. I had to get to Aragorn and Boromir. There was something in the forest that should not be here, and the Fellowship was scattered all over. Boromir and Aragorn were fighting, I was trying to find them, and Gimli and the Hobbits were most likely still pursuing me.

I dashed through the trees, my efforts not nearly as elegant and graceful as they should have been. But I cared not; I had to get to Aragorn.

The faint sound of clashing swords seemed to be getting slightly louder; I knew I was on the right track. Leaping towards another tree, I felt unease sweep over me. I caught onto the branch and pulled myself along.

My unease grew. Maybe I was just too worried about Aragorn and Boromir. I was close now; I was perhaps just dreading what I might see? No, that wasn't it.

There was something wrong. The trees seemed to be trying to tell me so I slowed slightly. The wind whispered past me, pulling my blond hair back, it brought with it messages and smells.

The message was of danger. The smell was of… Orc! My eyes widened. There were Orcs in the forest?! At a time like this?

I once more picked up my pace. Funnily enough, now that I was aware of the danger I seemed to be able to hear it.

They were really close now. Much closer than Aragorn and Boromir. I turned a little left, having to drop myself to a lower branch in order to continue in my pursuit.

I was worried and a little afraid. But my anger, as well, was building in me. What did Aragorn think he would achieve by this? Did he not understand that it was the ring and not so much Boromir? And I had offered myself, freely. True I never wanted any of it, but it had happened and I was dealing with it. Or rather, I was trying to deal with it.

Aragorn should never have taken Boromir wherever he had taken the man. He should never have made me this worried! And as for tricking me, when I found him again I was going to show him exactly how mad I was!

My eyes caught the sight of movement in the bushes ahead. Was it Aragorn? I inched closer, my eyes focused on the bush. No, it was not Aragorn. It was an Orc. I could smell it from where I stood.

I drew my bow and bent it, aiming at where I thought the Orc to be. Then I let my arrow fly, I heard a shriek and something fell out of the bush. It wasn't an Orc. It was much fouler. Dark, mottled skin in dirty leather and armor.

Uruk-Hai.

My ears then picked up a new sound. Strange, whizzing sounds… headed- headed straight for me. Arrows! I dove down, to make myself less of a target, but even as I avoided four of them, one ripped into my lower back, burring deep into my flesh.

I cried out sharply in pain and in my haste to dodge it, fell from the tree. I hit the ground with a mighty thump, landing on my injury, the arrow snapped in half, pushing deeper into me. My mind blanked in pain.

Dizziness tried to engulf me, I resisted. I had to get up. I had to find Aragorn. The Hobbits, they would need help. And Gimli. But my injury was too painful… maybe if I just closed my eyes for a moment and let the darkness… no!

I forced my eyes to focus. I clenched my teeth and, with as much strength as I could muster, pushed myself up from the ground. I held tightly onto the trunk of the tree I had fallen from, suppressing a cry as I strained my back.

Stars danced in front of me before I shook them away. I had to focus. I had been hit by an arrow, most probably that of an Uruk-Hai. No goblins or Orcs used such arrows. That would mean that there were more Uruk-Hai about and they would be headed right for me.

Sure enough, I was surrounded by numerous Uruk-Hai, with no possible way to win. This was bad; I couldn't fight like this. The pain now was almost too much for me. They drew their weapons, leering at me and moving closer.

With shaking hands, I drew my Elven blades. My teeth were still clenched and sweat beginning to build on my forehead.  The first exchange of blows nearly made me scream out, the force of the impact shooting through my back like lightning. I tried to block the pain away and clashed a second time.

I was the son of Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood. I could not let myself be beaten like this, by these foul creations of Saruman. I was also deeply concerned for Aragorn, and was not as focused on the battle as I should have been. My pain was also not helping matters at all.

I did not want to die, not now…

I killed the first one, the rest coming at me in pairs or more. I was shivering as I swung around and slit the throat of one before fatally stabbing another.  I twisted around to block a swing and cried out once more as my injured back was pushed to its limits. My vision was blurring again and my head was spinning; my movements becoming sloppy and uncoordinated.

I dodged another strike, but a sharp blow to my head told me I hadn't been so lucky. I fell to my knees, turning my head up to look at my attackers. A sword was raised above my head and brought down aiming for my chest. I dropped down and rolled away, coming to a stop when I found there was nowhere else to go.

My breathing was labored and came in short, rasping breaths. I swallowed thickly, a sour taste in my mouth, as I prepared for death. I could see no way out of this. No way I could survive. I only wished to see Aragorn once more, to tell him my heart. Oh Elbereth, help me!

The same Uruk-Hai as before came up to me, his blade aimed at my heart, I was backhanded and the blade raised just above my chest. I closed my eyes, tasting blood, and trying to let the dizziness overwhelm me before I could feel my death. The blow never came.

Instead a new sound, the sound of fighting. Weakly opening my eyes, my heart soared in part relief, part fear. It was Boromir! He was fighting against them. He would help me… I hoped.

I allowed myself to relax slightly, my hope dulling the pain. I rested my head back, my eyes clouding over. I was still trying to calm my breathing. With a final swish, Boromir killed the last of the group, rushing over and kneeling next to me.

I coughed slightly, hissing as my back throbbed.

"Boromir! Thank you, I…" my breath caught in my throat.

That look, that look in his eyes!

"No, Boromir! Please!"

I began to panic all over again as I saw the maddening lust shining through his gaze as he stared down at me. My heart thumped at my chest and my mind was forcing me into darkness. Not again, this could happen again…

A rough hand touched my face, cupping my cheek.

"No! Please no, Boromir!"

He wouldn't. I had nearly been killed, surely he wouldn't… Where was Aragorn? He hadn't… Aragorn couldn't be…

"No!" my last breath coming out as a whisper before I was swallowed into unconsciousness.

*********

Boromir

*********

Once more, I faced temptation, as I looked down into the beautiful face of the one I desired.

Legolas, Prince of the Elves, and a beauty to behold. His face was pale, and I could see his hand was wrapped within a bandage. An arrow protruded from his back; no doubt that was why he had not been able to fight the Uruk-Hai off.

I gently caressed his cheek as he lay there so still, beautiful even while unconscious, smoothing golden strands away from his face.

So beautiful… so unreachable…

It was not fair that Aragorn should have the heart of this ethereal creature, when he was engaged to the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell.

A Man was lucky indeed to have the love of one Elf, but to have the love of two of them?

What was it about Aragorn, that he had the love of a Prince and the heart of the Lady of Rivendell? Why did he have such love, when I did not?

I was more worthy than Aragorn, I deserved the love that he was unworthy of, for he was to marry the Lady Arwen, when he became King of Gondor. Where would that leave Legolas?

Gondor's people would never accept him being with their King, Elf or not. He, for all his beauty, was a male. Such relationships were unacceptable in the eyes of many, even to some Elves.

I had beaten Aragorn, why shouldn't I keep Legolas for my own?

My own…

My precious…

To be concluded