This concept of fan fiction was created by SkyleafAlchemist1, whom has given their permission for me to use.

I do not own Lord of the Rings, or the concept of this particular fan fiction.

Sorry for not updating sooner; busy, busy past two weeks.

Yes. Legolas is in another demension. But, he doesn't know that~~! Bad!Aragorn will stay as Aragorn; Good!Aragorn will be referred as Estel.

Aragorn looked down and away, and Legolas was about to start demanding that he tell him everything, when there was a knock on the door. Aragorn gave an apologetic smile and said, "Enter."

The door was pushed open and three familair faces walked in: Faramir, Eowyn, and Boromir. Faramir had his head bent over a page in a black-bound leather book. His hair was as curly as ever, falling into his face as he read. Eowyn also had her bent over the book, silently reading along with him, her own golden hair tied into a braid.

Boromir was the only one whose attention wasn't already occupied. His eyes went straight to Legolas, who was now sitting upright and propped against the pillows. The man seemed to have paled considerably when he caught sight of the elvish prince. "How...?"

Faramir and Eowyn both looked up, though there was no surprise in their expressions, as though they had already known of him being there. Aragorn jumped to his feet, stepping between his newest advisor and best friend. He hissed in a low tone, "Now is not the time, Boromir. He's just barely recovered from his fall. We will discuss this all later."

What Legolas didn't know was that, since the death of their father, Boromir and Faramir had agreed that Aragorn take on the role as leader. They had only wanted to help Aragorn get revenge for Legolas's murder and had thought the added numbers would help the elvenking see reason. They hadn't expected, however, for Aragorn to launch a full on assult of Mirkwood and all of its occupants. Most had escaped to Rivendale, where they could not attack, though their men had killed at least twenty elves in the process.

Since then, Aragorn had changed. He had slowly decended into a fierce madness that swept up his own torment and agony, and flung it at anyone who opposed him. When the dwarves showed their alliance with the elves to be stronger than that with the men, Aragorn had thrown a fit so horrible, he had ten dwarves beheaded in his throne room. That was after locking Gimli up in the dongeon, after the dwarf refused to move into Gon Dor on his own accord.

Aragorn only wanted to keep his friend safe, and if the blasted, thick-headed dwarf wouldn't listen to sencible reason, he'd be force to comply.

One brother knew the Aragorn they loved like family was still inside their leader, while the other had decided that it was high time he made up fro his mistake, and help the other races any way he could. Some would call him a traitor.

Legolas's keen hearing heard what Aragorn said, and he felt something within him shift yet again. There was something wrong with all of this. In all the time he had known Aragorn, the man had never once kept anything from him, even if it had been the terrible reality. Then the thought of his brothers and Ada being dead crept into the back of his mind. His whole body locked at the thought.

"Aragorn, what happened? Tell me!" A distant part of him noticed that Eowyn had never before worn a braid, and that Faramir's hair was a shade darker than ususal and shorter by a few inches. Also, Aragorn seemed taller than he remembered. But he was so focused on his friend that he did not take heed to these differences.

Aragorn looked down at him, saddness clear in his eyes. "Do not worry yourself, Mellon nin. Your father and brothers live. The... survivors of Mirkwood fled to Rivendale after...the attack."

"Survivors?" Legolas's eyes narrowed dangerously, "How many were killed? Who were killed?" Aragorn seemed to hesistate and Legolas demanded, "Tell me, Aragorn! How many?"

His friend seemed to sink within himself, "Twenty. Mostly gaurds, whose names I do not know. There...is no sign of who had launched the attack. But there were six whose names I did. Estrella, Miko, Della, Ryia, Kino, and...my beloved Arwen."

With every name, Legolas felt himself flinch away from his friend, as though they were physical blows. The quiet of the room buzzed in his ears like thousands of honey bees. A tighteness in his chest made itself known he when he couldn't seem to draw in enough air, his head spinning usddenly from the loss and tidle way of memories that crashed against his raw emotions.

Estrella. The gaurd whose temper, when somehow provoked from its deep slumber within his being, was unmatched by any man, dwarf or elf. The elf who had always a smile, and who loved to whistle in the early morning, much to the annoyance of the others around him.

Miko. An archer who loved to run along the castel rooftops, flinging himself into the air to be caught by the trees or other rooftop. More bird than elf, Miko loved to frighten people with his insane and death-defying antics, but knew well enough when the joke was taken too far, or if danger was afoot.

Della. A maiden servant who looked after the horses. He did not know her as well as he would have hoped, but had known enough that she was too gentle of a soul to be caught up in any battle. She may very well have died trying to protect an elfling or animal.

Ryia. The only healer who knew how to kill using the same arts as to heal. She was an extrodinary fighter, and even better the assasian. His Ada had always warned him to stay on Ryia's good side, for she could kill any one of them and leave no trace of the crime - not even, it seemed, a body.

Kino. One of his father's advisor's. An elf he himself was not fond of, but knew the death would be a blow to the council.

Arwen. By the Valar. Legolas looked ujp into his friend's eyes, seeing a soul so lost in torment that it had weakened. The elf prince threw off his covers and pulled his friend into a tight embrace, swearing to him, "We will find the men responsible for this, and I swear, we shall make them suffer a punishment worse than death before allowing them to perish."

He felt his friend stiffen as he spoke, but only thought it was the resolve his friend was so well known for, finally returning.

He couldn't be more wrong.

-Xx-

Weeks earlier.

After witnessing the violent death of his brother-in-all-but-blood, Aragorn found himself sitting beside the body, which had been cleaned of blood and changed into funeral clothing. His brother's skin was so deathly pale, and his eyes were shut, proving that he wasn't merely sleeping. Already, his body had turned cold but they were to wait another hour before burial.

When the moon was at its highest, the gates of the Halls were said to be found the easiest.

A blackness had opened within him, swirling with temptations and rage. Tears streamed down his unwashed face. Still, he himself had blood washed against his face and hands, his clothing and shoes. He had refused to leave his Mellon nin's side, even against his Ada's wishes. The elvenking had thrown himself into his chambers, and refused to allow anyone inside.

What right did his brother's father have to run away from the grief? He should be one of those sitting beside Leoglas's deathbed, mourning a horrible loss with the tears of a father. Not the diginty of a king.

...

Three days afterwards, Argron was atop a mount in the evening, stars beginning to show. Not only had the elevnking not allowed him to attend the burial, but he had also banished Aragorn from Mirkwood, claiming it had been a man who had posioned his son. Aragorn knew otherwise; it had been an elevn counciler. The elvenking refused to listen, warning that if he returned, he would be beheaded and his body left to rot in Orc territory.

He grabbed a torch from his subordinate before urging his horse to run. He lifted the flames to the branches, and they began to eat away at the trees. His men launched flaming arrows twoards the night sky, before they landed among the brush and roots.

He turned back to his men, a cold breeze shifting the air around them. "For Legolas!"

There was a mighty cheer before they rushed the hill, taking the newly-found enemies by total surprise.