Legolas could feel the anger burning inside of him. How could Aragorn be so ignorant; of course these men would die. There was no hope for them against Sauron's army. He looked around him at the dirty faces of the old men and the young boys who stared at him with fearful eyes. He pulled out of Gimli's grip and retreated out the back door.

After walking around the keep, trying to clear his head, Legolas found an open area with nothing around but a few crates. He sat himself down on one of them, rested his head in his hands and sighed. He had not realized how exhausted he was until now. Earlier he had told Aragorn to rest, but perhaps he needed to as well.

He could not remember the last time he was on edge like this. He had never argued with Aragorn before, but seeing the faces of Théoden's "soldiers" had set him off. After a while of listening to the sounds of his own breathing, his hands, which had been shaking in either anger or fear (or a combination of both), were finally still. He looked up, surprised to see the world was just as dark with his eyes open. If there was anything Legolas feared, it was darkness engulfing the world he knew and surrounding him and those he loved with death and destruction.

He sighed, knowing he was not alone in this fear. How could he be so ignorant? Of course he didn't want Sauron's darkness to cover the land, no one in Helm's Deep did. That's why they had to fight, it was not about winning. They still have hope left, hope that they can bring light back to Middle Earth. If they did not fight, their hope would die; and their families along with it.

But where was his hope? Where was the fire burning inside him, urging him to go on, pressing him to continue with this strenuous journey across Middle Earth? Was it in his friends? Was it back home, in Mirkwood? Did it even exist?

Legolas furrowed his brow and shook his head, leaning back against the cold stone wall behind him. When he did this however he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He sneered and quickly sat up, grabbing his shoulder. He had forgotten all about his battle with the orcs and his injury. He had forgotten all about Aragorn going out of his way to find him and save his life. Only a truly great man would do such a thing.

He couldn't believe, that after all he and Aragorn had been through, he would doubt him in such a trying time as this. He scoffed at himself, thinking of the words he had exchanged with his friend only moments before. "They are all going to die" he had said. Aragorn had never willingly let anyone die on his watch nor had he willingly sacrificed anyone for the sake of himself or others. He would not start now, and certainly not with an army of 300 men. If these men die here, it was not because they were making a hopeless last stand, or because they thought it was die here or die there. They fight because Aragorn lights the fire within their hearts that tells them that they can defeat Sarumon's army.

Legolas stood at this thought and began to pace around the small courtyard. Aragorn was a powerful man, even though he may not know it. He has a way of bringing people to their feet and making them believe that they can be more then they believe to be. Before joining him on this journey, Legolas thought he was doomed to sail to the undying lands while Middle Earth crumbled under the force of Sauron and the Ring.

He had been warned about the call of the sea. It was one call he did not intend on answering. That was the last thing he wanted, especially now. He could not abandon the races of Middle Earth- he could not run away. But was it pride or hope that made him stay? He heaved a sigh and leaned against the stone with his good arm. This was not the time to be doubting himself, nor was it the time for Aragorn to be doubting his own leadership. He had to speak with Aragorn.

The elf was about to leave the courtyard when he noticed a shadow in the archway ahead of him. He stopped in his tracks and the figure came out of the darkness. The kings golden hair shone in the moonlight as he approached Legolas.

"I heard what you said in the armory," he said quietly, "I did not understand your words but I understood your intent. You think there is no hope."

Legolas stayed silent, he could not lie. He did not know if he did have any hope and telling the King this would only hurt him.

"How old are you master elf?" Théoden asked, the curiosity clear on his features.

"I was born shortly after Sauron's defeat by Isildur." the elf answer truthfully. He saw the surprise in Théoden's eyes but the King kept the rest of his face quite still.

"And in your nearly 3,000 years of life, have you ever seen an army of 300 overcome one of 10,000?" His eyes were shooting straight into Legolas'.

"No," the elf said, causing the King's eyes to fall, "But no army I have ever been with or fought against has ever had Aragorn standing with them."

"What can he do for a poor army such as this?"

"He already has done something. He has given them strength and a reason to fight. He shows them that he believes in them. You were in the armory, but you did not show your face. How do you expect your own soldiers to follow you when you are too scared to face them before battle? Aragorn has faced them. He has spoken with them, he treats them as equals. He is willing to fight alongside them, rather than up on a tower watching. Tonight he fights as one of them, and if he dies then he dies as one of them." Legolas stepped closer, now inches from the King, "As do I." With that the elf swiftly left the courtyard, leaving Théoden to ponder his standing as king.

The elven prince made his way through corridors, around pillars and groups of men. He passed hundreds of fearful faces but he did not look at them. He was finally ready for battle and seeing them would only diminish his mood. He walked fast, but was careful not to bump anyone, the last thing he wanted was for the tension felt by the men to culminate into a brawl.

Finally he made it to the main hall. He looked around, searching for Aragorn or Gimli, but to no avail. He stayed a few minutes longer hoping one of them would show up but they did not. He turned to leave when he spotted Gromling standing close by.

He approached Théoden's close friend. "Where is Aragon?" he asked, much to the surprise of the soldier who still had not seen Legolas since his return. He had believed him dead until now.

"Last I saw he headed into that room down there," he pointed to a staircase on the other side of the room that led down into a storage area. Legolas quickly headed to the passage way, leaving the stunned soldier behind.

Aragorn had been contemplating Legolas' words for what seemed like hours now. Was there any hope? Where they all going to die? Aragorn had noticed his friend's recent downheartedness and he could understand it. He had been on this earth for many years, but not as many as Legolas. He had seen so much death and destruction in his 3000 years of life. How was this any different?

Legolas had once been nearly destroyed because of false hope, so he could understand his reluctance to have any now. That was one look he never wanted to see in his friend's eyes ever again.

Aragorn stopped himself, he couldn't think about this now. He had a job to do, Legolas may not have much hope but he did and he had to show the men of Rohan that they could hope too. He started to dress himself for battle.

Legolas descended the stairs and could hear some things being moved around. He figured Aragorn was preparing himself for the coming battle. He got to the bottom of the stairs and watched his human friend fit his belt around his waist. He stepped forward, picked up Aragorn's sword and held it out to him.

Aragorn noticed Legolas and he couldn't help but smile. "You have brought us this far and have not led us astray," his elven friend said, the remorse clear on his face, "Forgive me, I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on Legolas' shoulder, "There is nothing to forgive." he said in his friend's native tongue, knowing it would bring him some comfort. Legolas realized at Aragorn's touch that his shoulder was no longer in pain, as if mending his friendship had also mended his wounds.

At that moment, Gimli walked in donning chain mail that was clearly made for a man twice his height and half of his width. The three friends shared a light hearted moment together before a horn sounded in the distance, and the fire that had not yet been kindled in Legolas ignited with all of its strength.