Legolas felt a familiar tingling sense at the base of his spine. The one that meant danger was near. But when he looked to Boromir for comfort, the Man would not answer him, but with harsh kisses and rough handclasps. Nothing to assuage his growing sense of dread.

When Aragorn discovered that both Boromir and Frodo were missing, he went into a kind of panic. Legolas thought he could understand, even if only slightly. The Man and the hobbit had grown so close over the past weeks, he would have been surprised if Aragorn had not panicked.

He himself was only slightly worried. Boromir would never do anything to harm the hobbit. This he knew with the blind certainty of new love.

Aragorn flew into the forest on wings of fear. Sam wanted to leave after him, but Gimli gently stopped him. "No, Master Samwise. Aragorn will take care of it. You just stay here and finish parceling out the vittles."

Sam glared at him, but sat back down. Legolas knew that the instant Gimli's back was turned, Sam would dash off into the forest in search of his master. The bond between those two was like nothing he'd ever seen in all of his years, and he knew without a doubt that Sam would willingly leap into the jaws of death itself if it could save Frodo.

But Legolas began to worry when the feeling of wrongness intensified, and his keen elven ears caught slight rustling in the bushes. Far off, too slight to be counted as anything, but the Elf was already on edge.

He stood up and moved his feet uneasily. After a moment, with a glance to Gimli assuring that he would keep the hobbits in line, he himself dashed off into the forest in search of the two missing members of the fellowship.

He did not have far to go. He found Boromir kneeling down in the leaves of a small clearing, sobbing with all his heart.

Wasting no time, Legolas was to his side and kneeling next to him in no time. "Boromir. Boromir, my love, what is wrong?" The Man looked up at him through his hair with eyes filled with shame. A sinking dread manifested itself in Legolas's stomach.

"Frodo. Frodo. Where is he? Is he safe?"

"I am sorry, Boromir. I don't know. Aragorn has gone to fetch him, but I assume he is all right." Boromir collapsed with relief into Legolas' arms. The sobs continued, though, quite perplexing on a grown warrior such as Boromir.

"But what's wrong, Boromir? What ails you so as to bring you to tears?"

Staring at the ground, Boromir spoke. "The Ring. I tried to take it from him. I-" His voice broke, and he pulled away from Legolas, keeping his face turned down. Humiliation overcame the big warrior and he hung his head, refusing to meet Legolas' eyes.

It hit Legolas, at this odd moment, how ephemeral mortals were. Evanescent and fleeting in all things. In an eye-blink the world was turned upside down and their personalities twisted and ruined in ways so as to be unrecognizable. And he should have known.

He stayed his distance from Boromir. He couldn't bring himself to feign comforting. Because in the end, it was empty and pointless, and really, just irritatingly insincere. Boromir had shown his weakness. Shown it and failed to control himself in moments that Legolas hadn't even known existed.

He did love Boromir. He loved him as he loved the beauty of a meadow in the fresh spring morning. But morning turns to day, and it was time for him to leave.

Well, almost.

He reached out to tilt Boromir's chin up so that their eyes met. In them, he found a hunted and scared thing, almost out of his mind with grief, lust, and shame. He shivered. "Boromir, I--"

The first arrow zinged past his head. Quick as the wind, he'd whipped out his bow and arrow and was ready to shoot.

He took out the first orc he saw, the one attacking directly from behind Boromir. It gave a gurgling sound and fell to the ground, dead. More swarmed up to take his place.

Boromir turned sluggishly and drew his sword. Legolas knew, by his demeanor and actions, and the simple hopelessness in his eyes, that he would not survive this battle. And he accepted it with the grace that any immortal must accept the passing of things. Fall fades to winter, and winter gives way to spring. He grasped Boromir's hand once, not wishing to have him taken, but knowing it must be.

And then he was swept up into the raging whirlwind of battle.

***

Boromir fought long and hard. He refused to have this last dignity taken from him. He, too, knew it was not likely that he would survive this battle. And part of him didn't want to.

But if he was to go down, he would go down fighting to the last. Fighting to save Legolas, and Gimli. Aragorn, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. They all deserved to reap what he could give. He'd betrayed them all with his act of greed, and though he could never repay any of them, he could help ensure that they could continue on, even when he was no longer strong enough to do so.

Somehow he'd been separated from Legolas by the intervening orcs. But still, he fought on. Hewing and hacking with his broadsword, not even sure what end he was fighting for anymore, just going through the motions. Feint, swing, parry, thrust. Don't get hit and don't go down.

At some point he was aware of a darker presence than the others. Obeying his own rules, he dispatched the orcs surrounding him, ending the most immediate threat before this new one got any closer.

He didn't get a chance to turn and meet this enemy before an arrow was launched and struck him in the chest. A deep rasp of breath as he collected himself. Can't die yet. So much left to do. DON'T GO DOWN. He dragged himself back up to his feet, and with a torturous movement ran an attacking orc through on his sword. Keep going. Don't stop. Can't stop.

A zing of the bowstring and another arrow thudded into his chest. He gasped in a sharp breath and fell to his knees. NO! With monumental effort he pushed himself back up, and with a weak yell, beheaded the next orc.

The third arrow was his undoing. It brought him back to his knees, and this time, he knew that no amount of willpower could force his treacherous body back to its feet. He knelt there helplessly, robbed of his last shred of honor and dignity as the enemy rushed past him, ignoring him.

He heard dimly, as through a waterfall, the sound of Merry and Pippin screaming for help. "No," he breathed weakly. Blood was already filling his lungs, and it was becoming hard to breathe. "No..."

The monstrous Uruk who'd shot him came behind all the others, and stood in front of Boromir, who could only look up with hatred on the face of his executioner. He growled and drew back his arrow, the point aimed squarely between Boromir's eyes. Through his fear, Boromir refused to close his eyes for the moment when the final stroke fell.

It never did. There was the twang of a bowstring, but Boromir watched with wide, pain-filled eyes as the Uruk staggered, with an elven arrow sticking out of his neck. He roared and turned to face his new, able-bodied opponent.

Legolas drew his long knives and struck first, whirling and slashing quickly, before his slower opponent could strike back. Blond hair and bright knives shone in the sunlight, performing this deadly dance while Boromir watched. He toppled backwards, groaning when he hit the ground and jostled the arrows, damaging more of his torn body. His blood leaked out onto the ground and leaves. He reached a hand up to try and pull out an arrow. It was shaking and pale.

A silver cry rang out on the air. Boromir winced. He couldn't see the fight anymore, couldn't even lift his head. So he lay there and stared up at the sky, his vision fading in and out. Please hurry Legolas. The clash of metal sounded not far away.

It took him awhile to realize when it was all silent. He blinked once to clear away the spots, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Legolas coming toward him. There was a deep gash across one cheek, and blood was pouring from it and dripping down his face. But to Boromir, he looked beautiful.

He knelt beside Boromir's fallen form. His long hair brushed Boromir's face. "You came."

"I'm so sorry, melanin. So sorry." A single tear spilled from the Elf's eye and trailed down his face.

"They took...they took the little ones. You have....have to....have to save them." Boromir was having trouble remembering what he needed to say. There was so much of it and so little time. He was so tired.

"I'm sorry." Two words that summed it up. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the thick blood choked him and spilled from the corners of his mouth. I love you, he'd wanted to say, but the words couldn't, wouldn't form. He looked into Legolas's immortal blue eyes, and knew there was no need.

He gave a great, rasping, wet cough, and was still.

Legolas felt the tears slide down his face, and he gently closed sightless eyes. He kissed Boromir's forehead, and then stood.

He turned to face Gimli and Aragorn, both of whom stood a respectful distance away at the edge of the clearing. "Come. There is much to be done, and we must be quick about it."

***

The crash of the waterfalls close by were deafening to Legolas as they lowered Boromir's still form into one of the boats and placed his shield across his chest and his sword in his hands.

Aragorn, too, looked sad, though his eyes were firmly fixed on the opposite shore, where if he imagined well enough, the phantom forms of two hobbits could still be seen fleeing through the trees. To safety or to death, he could not know.

The sound of the waterfalls did not change when the little boat reached the edge and crashed over.

Looking around him, Gimli could not help but feel that they had failed at some monumental task, and the three of them alone were left standing. He shook off the feeling of dread and prepared to charge across the river after the Ringbearer and his companion.

Seeing the look on his face, Aragorn shook his head. "No, Gimli. Frodo has made his choice. We must let him go." There was a tiredness in his voice, a sort of worn quality that distracted Gimli and gave Legolas cause for great sadness.

As they gathered up what things they would need, Legolas walked over to his old friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry, Estel. Frodo will return. You will see your love again." Unspoken was the 'but I will not'. Legolas cast a glance toward the Rauros falls, and then grabbed his pack.

"Come!" Aragorn said, with enthusiasm that seemed almost sincere. "Our part in the fight is not yet over, and we cannot lose hope now."