Master in Deceiving chapters 27-28
Yours Truly


27. Distressing Satisfaction 
 

On this day, as the Grey Company kept on moving towards Edoras, Legolas seemed 
to have regained some shred of control. He was tranquil and focused upon the 
task at hand, unwilling to allow feeling to rule over his actions. Yet, as time 
moved forward, it was becoming extremely difficult to pretend everything was 
fine, and the exaggerated calm he irradiated at these times of war managed to be 
anything but convincing…most of all to the one whose eyes had never left the Elf 
and the source of the Prince's current predicament. 

Aragorn.

Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, who had been watching over Legolas like a hawk, with 
eyes filled with concern and some twisted sense of understanding that Legolas 
loathed to see. 

{He cannot understand}

What added to the burden the Elf carried, was the voice again. Not attacking him 
this time, not confusing him further, but doing something that frightened the 
Elf to the very core, more than anything else he had so far faced. 

The voice now sounded…pleased…

And the fact Legolas himself now found calm in this new turn of events was the 
hardest part of all. He hated himself for the knowledge that every event was 
intertwined, that every burden was the chain reaction that had begun for one 
reason only. Had begun for his own weakness. And with every breath he took and 
every step he moved this knowledge was enough to overwhelm whatever strength he 
tried to cling onto. 

Whatever the consequences of this, the voice was pleased, and although pained, 
Legolas was composed…and angry…increasingly angry. 

Angry at the voice for being a hidden part of himself he had never wanted to 
meet, angry at himself for being weak enough to let this happen, angry at his 
friends for they still didn't know what ailed and hence they could not help him, 
angry at himself again, for not being able to tell them of this…

Angry most of all, at Aragorn for giving him an overprotection that was not what 
he needed, that was only aggravating him…angry at Aragorn for…for…

{For dragging you into this, Princeling?} 
{Nay…}
{For him being the real cause behind all of this? Because these are Aragorn's 
lands and this is Aragorn's war? Because you're in the middle of all that is 
painful?}
{Nay…}
{Admit you need someone to blame}
{I never denied it}
{Then deny my allegations no further! For you know them to be true, do you not 
little one? You need someone, something that is not yourself to blame for all 
this pain?}
{I deny nothing, then}
{Then you finally do what's right, little one…you are finally seeing reason}
{Am I?}
{Aye, you are…you see what is true now…you shall soon feel as you should, as 
well}

The Grey Company continued with its course, not halting for the confusion 
lurking beneath the blue orbs of the only elf in the group, riding on for a day 
and more until they reached Edoras. Soft lips gone dry curved into the ghost of 
a sad smile as they descended upon they one they found in the Palace, for there 
stood Éowyn, Lady of the Mark, graced by great beauty and courage, whose gaze 
found its delight upon the Ranger; Aragorn son of Arathorn engaged to Evening 
Star of the Elves. 

When Legolas was sure he should feel sorrow for the Lady, he found her misplaced 
interest strangely amusing. Her heart was where it did not belong, and the ghost 
of her own hope was inviting her to approach the man she desired. But 
Hope…Estel…did not really call for her, even as her eyes betrayed her heart's 
desire and told the entire world where her interest lay. Even as Aragorn told 
her of Helm's Deep and a secret flame shone in her eyes, and Legolas could not 
bring himself to feel anything but…pleasure…at the sight

{I am impressed, Princeling}
{You are?}

Legolas' silent steps carried him away from the meal, after thanking the Lady 
Éowyn with a forced smile, accompanied by the loud ones of Gimli the dwarf who 
walked next to him. Refusing his friend's offer to go along with him on a short 
walk, Legolas then bid his friend goodbye and turned to walk towards his 
accommodations for the night. He was surprised then, when a rough hand grabbed 
his wrist. 

{Do not touch me!}

"What is it, Master Dwarf?"

Cool eyes regarded him, and were not for the flash of…something…in the pools of 
blue, Gimli would have reconsidered what he was about to say.

"I find my mind troubled, my friend" The dwarf said, looking straight to the 
eyes of the Elf "I find no comfort in the knowledge you are riding to war with 
us"

Fury blazed in Legolas' eyes as he ripped his hand away from the grasp of Gimli, 
who stood amazed at the amount of feeling those eyes now held. Turning his back 
on his friend, Legolas took a step towards his room without a word, and 
desperate for some kind of reassurance, Gimli hurried to stop the Elf taking a 
step forward of his own and placing a hand on the lithe shoulders.

{Don't you dare touch me…}

The gesture proved to be a mistake. 

Legolas' body tensed at the contact, and before Gimli could react, the Elf did. 
Fast as lightening Legolas' right arm went behind his back and took a bruising 
hold of Gimli's limb, the rest of the slim body whirling around with a speed 
that dazzled the Dwarf. His left arm joining the right in the hold on Gimli's 
extremity, Legolas used his strong grasp to yank the Dwarf to collide hard 
against the harsh stonewall of the hall they stood on. The surprised yelp of his 
friend and loud sound of the armor Gimli wore hitting against stone didn't 
disturb the Elf as the nimble being let go of the arm and went to grab the stout 
shoulders, turning his friend around so he was left facing Legolas. 

It took a few moments for his eyes to focus, but when they did, Gimli still 
wasn't sure whom he was facing.

Legolas eyes danced with fury and his breathing was labored with the effort of 
holding it back. To Gimli, that effort was still not enough. Legolas' body was 
pressed against his own, crushing him to the wall and a pale hand found the neck 
of the dwarf, turning into a fist and pushing against his windpipe.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me" Legolas hissed out, his face…frighteningly controlled. A 
mild flush of his cheeks the only thing betraying his feelings.

Gasps for air escaped Gimli's lips and the pressure just increased.

"Unfortunately for you all…I am going to War…and I am going with you"

Black spots danced in front of Gimli's eyes before the Elf relented, letting go 
and stepping back, his body loosing its tense demeanor. Walking away towards his 
room through the dark hallway, leaving behind his friend kneeling on the floor 
and gasping for much needed oxygen, Legolas' last words drifted to Gimli's ears 
just before the Elf turned the corner.

"Do not make me show you again that I am a capable warrior, Gimli" Legolas said 
softly, stopping for a moment on his walk, never turning back "The next time, I 
might give you a full demonstration of a battle"

His silent steps carrying him away, the only sounds left on the hallway were 
those of Gimli's labored breathing. 

****

{What did I do?}
{He thought you weak}
{Well, I proved him wrong…} 
{Aye that you did} The voice laughed 

It *Laughed*

It was frightening…and strangely reassuring. 

{How will I explain my actions later?} Legolas wondered as he entered the lodge, 
remembering suddenly that to his annoyance, he was to share this space with 
Gimli and Aragorn. 
{To whom must you explain them? You know why you did it, do you not?}
{Aye, of course I do, he touched me and accused me of being incapable of 
handling myself…}
{Then that is enough. You answer to yourself only, little one, not even your 
Father has a right to question anything from you…and not even your Father is 
here}

Nodding to the logic of his thoughts, he lay down on his blankets and slept.

Facing away from the window and the stars it showed and with his eyes closed. He 
didn't wake when Gimli entered, staring at him as though he were a stranger and 
neither did he wake when Aragorn entered and was told the story of what had 
transpired…not even with the argument that ensued… 

And he didn't wake when Aragorn stared at him sadly, his eyes resting upon 
Legolas' calm face well into the night. 

****

When the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet risen above 
the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His company was all 
mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the Lady Éowyn came to 
bid them farewell.

Legolas observed coldly as she wept, the picture more grievous in one so proud, 
yet his heart offered her no comfort. His heart hardly offered anything. 

That morning he had awoken to find Gimli staring at him, Aragorn long gone to 
attend his various duties. He had risen from his blankets, folded them 
carefully, and pulling his face into a repentant expression, he turned to face 
the dwarf. Walking closer and looking straight into his eyes he had apologized 
and Gimli had nodded briskly, apparently looking for something he did not find 
in Legolas' gaze. Whatever he did not find seemed to please Gimli and although 
the silence between them was still tense, the distrust evaporated slowly from 
the dwarf's eyes. 

Legolas could live with the silence. Preferred it in fact. And he content with 
the fact Gimli had requested of him no explanations, and had required no further 
apology. There was only so much Legolas could pretend, after all. 

When Aragorn denied the Lady's request, and turned away her begs, he jumped onto 
the saddle, greatly troubled and rode away. Legolas went on Arod after him, 
sparing no further glance to Éowyn, and ignoring Gimli's yelp and the tighter 
hold he had placed on Legolas at the horse's sudden movement. 

The light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet climbed over the 
black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. Legolas could see the great 
distress of the humans as they passed ancient rock walls, and had to admit to 
being slightly disturbed himself when they reached the shadow of black trees. A 
suffocating shadow that surrounded them, as the trees cried out in a pain that 
managed to move the Elf's unnaturally cold heart. Beneath this shadow, the 
company found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root, and right in their 
path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of doom.

"My blood runs chill," said Gimli, his voice breaking the silence like a shout. 
Legolas looked around him to the faces of all his gaze could reach, and found 
cold fear reflected back at him. He could sympathize with none, though, for his 
heart was only touched by the mournful and painful song of the trees that wept 
for the suffocating darkness around them. The voice of Dwarf went unanswered, as 
the men looked around the place, lacking the words to express their state of 
mind. 

The horses would not pass the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and 
led them about. Legolas did so with Arod, offering a hand for Gimli to dismount. 
The dwarf accepted it warily, and Legolas had to struggle to hide his small 
smile from the stout being. And so they came at last deep into the glen; and 
there stood a sheer wall of rock, and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before 
them like the mouth of night. Signs and figures were carved above its wide arch 
too dim to read, and fear flowed from it like a grey vapour.

The company halted there, and Legolas could feel the terror eradiating from the 
humans around him. The ghost of men did not scare him; indeed they were nothing 
but thin air in his eyes. Memories of what was and was lost, tortured enough to 
leave an imprint upon the land. 

At least Aragorn went in, and the riders reluctantly followed, leading the 
terrified horses with them. Only the animal's love for their riders drove them 
to face the terror of the door, and Legolas soon had to struggle with this 
himself when Arod, the horse of Rohan, refused the way, and he stood sweating 
and trembling in a fear that was grievous to see. 

Sighing sadly for having to force the horse into anything, Legolas laid his hand 
over the horse's eyes and begun to sing a melody that went soft in the gloom, 
until the horse suffered himself to be led. Knowing Gimli was behind him, and 
having seen the fear in his stance, Legolas found himself smiling as he passed 
in. And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.

{He didn't think you worthy, little one} The voice laughed {but look at him}

Soon hearing the heavy steps behind him, hurrying to catch up with Elladan who 
carried a torch at the rear, Legolas forgot about him and focused on the 
whispering that could now be heard. They had no tongue and their voices carried 
a unique quality that seemed to unsettle them all. Legolas just murmured softly 
a blessing in his own tongue. Maybe he could not understand their words, but he 
could understand their pain. His bright blue eyes glittered in the gloom when he 
turned to look back and saw their shapes following them. He felt strangely 
comforted when some of the whispers lost a little of its despair. 

When he saw gold reflect the light of the torches the company carried, he turned 
his eyes in that direction as Aragorn went to investigate, Elladan not far 
behind. He even saw Gimli approach them.

{Probably for the torches' light} Legolas thought with a small smile that no one 
saw. He heard the voice laughing. 

Without wanting to distance himself from Arod, Legolas just looked from a 
distance, knowing already what lay there because the light had reached the form 
of the bones that were once a mighty man with belts of gold and garnets and a 
helmet rich with gold. 

It was then that Aragorn's voice broke the silence. 

"For that is not my errand!" the man cried, completing some early murmuring that 
Legolas had not been able to catch, turning back and speaking to the whispering 
darkness behind. "Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed 
Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone 
of Erech!"

There was no answer to Aragorn's voice, unless it were an utter silence more 
dreadful than the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the 
torches flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled.

Legolas murmured words of comfort to his horse, even as he smiled. Kept 
murmuring even as he had to suppress his laughter in fear of alerting the others 
of his strange amusement. He did not know why but this darkness did not frighten 
him or bothered him in any way. He felt good here, and his spirits were high. He 
didn't know why, but the voice seemed so content here as well. He almost 
regretted he had to leave…

{Why do I feel like this?}
{Perhaps you feel good among other tortured souls, little one}
{Perhaps}

Legolas nodded to himself, as he walked forward. An hour or more, he didn't 
know, wasn't paying attention as he advanced. Whispers started slowly again only 
to go quiet again. Legolas could almost hear the step of the large mass 
of…what…people…? Ghosts…that followed them…that followed Aragorn.

{Aragorn of course…who else would they follow?}
{Does that anger you little one?}
{Aragorn angers me}
{Has he done anything today to gain that anger?}
{Look upon me with distrust, he has, he has done it all day}
{I see then…do you hate him now?}
{I hate what he is doing}
{Do you blame him?}
{I have admitted it to be so}
{Do you hate yourself?}
{That has never been a question}
{All right, little one…all right…}

After hours of tireless walking they were out of the dark, guided by the sound 
of water that had reached his ears while still inside that place. Passing 
through another gate, this one less frightening, to be out into a place he did 
not recognize. His horse was relieved to be outside once more, and Legolas was 
thanked for his actions by the beast when it nuzzled Legolas chest gently. 
Legolas patted the animal tenderly as Gimli approached him to ride.

The Company now mounted again. They rode in file, and evening came on and a deep 
blue dusk; and still fear pursued the men. Legolas turned to speak to Gimli, 
instead looking back and the Dwarf saw before his face the glitter in the Elf's 
bright eyes. A different emotion than the anger he had witnessed last night lay 
in those blue depths; there was now…excitement? Shining proudly with no haze to 
cover it. Gimli wondered about what he saw in his friend. 

Behind them rode Elladan, last of the Company, but not the last of those that 
took the downward road.

"The Dead are following," said Legolas, starling Gimli with the clear sound of 
his voice. "I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of 
cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The Dead are 
following."

"Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned," said Elladan, looking at 
the younger Prince with careful eyes, as if he had noticed something amiss. 
Perhaps he had…Legolas' voice was light and calm, not at all like any other of 
the company could sound like at this moment in time. Legolas just smiled at the 
other elf's inquisitive gaze and turned back to look ahead. 

He barely listened as Elladan explained to Gimli they were now in the place men 
called 'Blackroot' as he focused instead in what he saw ahead.

The Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer southern faces 
of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown; but all was grey in that 
hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights twinkled in the homes of Men. 
The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.

Suddenly, without turning, Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear: "Friends, 
forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of Erech ere 
this day passes, and long still is the way."

It was with a smile that Legolas urged his horse onwards, going faster and 
faster, enjoying the pace as with it, they seemed to fly over the fields. As 
they passed, doors closed and windows slammed shut, the cries of the people loud 
on his ears.

"The King of the Dead! The King of the Dead is come upon us!"

Legolas laughed when he heard the shouts, ignoring Gimli's query at his 
behavior. He had felt like he should laugh. 'The King of the Dead', Aragorn was 
for them, and he was seen here as a part of a Dead army. To his eyes the title 
held honor, and where this thought came from he did not know. 

{Does that even make sense? Proud of being counted as a part of this army of 
dead and haunted souls?}
{It does seem appropriate do you not think so?}

He went even faster, urging Arod to the poor beast's limit, forcing Gimli to 
cling onto him tightly in order to prevent the dwarf's deathly fall. Without 
turning, he could visualize Gimli's wide eyes and panicked expression at the 
speed they were going at, and the thought brought another laugh out of him. 

Something strange was happening with him, and he felt it coming. But he didn't 
see why should he even try to stop it now…it felt…well…it made him feel alive…

{And it shall feel better, little one…soon…}



28. Child of Obscurity


****

STRONG WARNINGS!!!: 

Beware of violence and graphic descriptions of death in this chapter, as well as 
some rather disturbing images created by my twisted brain. Hide the kids away- 
gore and much! Angst ahead. Chapter rated R or maybe higher.

****

This whole thing goes for Minka! My very good friend and constant support!


Chapter 28

Child of Obscurity

They rode; their pace harsh and unrelenting, and many mortals stumbled in 
weariness when their limited time of rest would come. They passed town after 
deserted town- an army of ghosts on their shadow- the oathbreakers- following 
Aragorn to find eternal peace in the fulfillment of their promise. Legolas did 
not tire, nor did he rest, as he found more and more of his thoughts being led 
to one common destination:

-Aragorn-

{The King of Men...} he mused, as he allowed his eyes to search for the familiar 
shape of his friend {So regal is he, that already he seems above all of 
us...impertinent, so far from Kingdom or Crown and already he leads these 
mortals...he dares to call himself 'my' leader...}

{You are no man...}

{And yet I follow him...}

{Why do you, little one?}

{I know not...}

{Are you obligated to?}

{Nay}

{Why follow?}

{He's my friend...?}

{Is that a question or a statement?}

{A...question}

{Do not follow him}

{What?}

{Why should you?}

On one day they passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow Host 
pressed behind and fear went on before them. That is where they rode now, 
nearing a darkness that would threaten to swallow them whole. 

"The Storm of Mordor," Legolas whispered to himself "The air is stale and 
oppressive...dark times draw closer."

"You state the obvious," came a sudden voice behind Legolas, and the Elf turned 
to meet the eyes of Gimli who studied him in exchange. "What are you not 
stating?"

Legolas looked down at the dwarf, turning back around on the saddle without a 
second thought. "Are you implying something, master dwarf?" He asked politely- 
coldly- not really caring. 

{Why care for this creature's opinion? Why care about anything at all?}

{You learn fast, little one}

{Learn what?}

{Listen to the shadows of this places...they call to you...}

Indeed they seemed to call, and Legolas found the whispers were not unpleasant. 

"Aye, I believe I am," Gimli muttered, answering his earlier inquiry "You are 
not yourself."

"You claim to know who I am?" he said lightly, focusing his gaze ahead into the 
shadows, finding that his eyes were once again drawn towards Aragorn- anger 
arose in him, when the man didn't even turn, when he must surely feel his gaze, 
but he clenched it down. 

"Perhaps he can't make that claim," interrupted another voice, and Legolas 
turned mild eyes to Elladan, who now rode alongside them "But I can."

"Can you now?" Legolas smiled tightly, and shook his head "interesting..."

"Legolas?" Elladan said softer now- softly enough to almost be drowned out by 
the terrible noise of their host "What has befallen you?"

{I am not forced to explain anything}

Legolas did not answer him immediately- was not planning in answering at all- 
but words left his lips without permission- words that did not reflect his 
currents thoughts and that brought memories of a time when he had known true 
fear. "Shadow and flame." He said it clearly- both dwarf and half-Elf heard it- 
yet the voice was broken, beaten down- almost separated from the proud being 
that sat in front of them.

"Legolas, stop your horse-we need to talk." Elladan realized it was the wrong 
thing to say when Legolas' gaze focused on him - the blue crystals reflecting 
pure ice- screaming at him with no words...

{He ordered you- he thinks he's above you- he thinks he knows you...}

{I don't even know me}

"You shall never address me such again," the Prince said simply. Not a request 
but a simple statement of a fact, then he urged his horse onwards, speeding away 
from Elladan's wide eyes. The half-Elf's blood froze in his veins at the 
words...at the threat...at the promise.

{You have just sealed your fate, you realize?}

{I realize}

{You made a promise}

{I did}

{Will you break it?}

{I will not}

{Then Elrond shall grieve the loss of a son?}

Eyes straying forward again, ignoring Gimli's repeated attempts to get him to 
explain what had just transpired, his gaze once again landed on the familiar 
shape looming ahead

-Aragorn-

{Perhaps he shall have to grieve more than one}

Legolas paid no mind to the faint whisper of despair that came with his thoughts 
beneath the dark shadows of the Storm of Mordor as they entered the town of 
Calembel upon Ciril, where the sun went down like blood and refused to rise once 
more. No dawn came after their halt on this place- and the shadows, indeed, 
seemed to swallow them whole.

****

{I shall die a traitor...} Legolas thought calmly, hours later, as he sat by 
himself on top of a rock {I shall kill my friends...I must- how can I not? They 
are no friends! They dare rise above me- they see themselves above me! How dare 
they? How dare they overlook me? They are but mortals- below me even if they 
were not...}

{You believe this?} The voice asked calmly, and this time- the voice sounded 
exactly like his voice, no tone he could not recognize it...the voice was he 
now...he could admit it. 

{A Prince of my people I am- and yet they treat me like a child! A child! How 
dare they? How can I not kill them? I must prove it to them; to all of them- 
just whom they are mocking...a warrior they mock...they trust me not. Aragorn 
calls himself a King of man, sees himself above me- even Gimli does! They dare 
to show me distrust...}

A whisper outside his mind interrupted him, and his startled eyes opened to look 
around. 

{There are voices in the air...} Legolas thought, as the cold touch of fear 
threatened to reach him in the dark. The company was taking a break in the town, 
and he found himself some feet away from the group- resting, breathing in the 
loneliness and the peace that it brought him. But the shadows were growing heavy 
around him- and the silence became voices. His mind taken away from Elladan, 
from death and dishonor - Legolas was sure now he could 
hear...calls...whispers...screams!

"The Child has come" A cold hand touched him- touched his face- froze him under 
its hold. "The Lord has won!" 

Chants of screams and laughter surrounded him, and Legolas was helpless under 
the touch of an invisible hand "Look at him..." 

"The Child is here" 

"Pretty toy..." 

"Breaking!" 

"Cracking" 

"The Ring is ours" 

"It shall be mine..." 

"The Eye can see you" 

"The Child is afraid" 

"The Lord is joyful!" 

"Look into his eyes..." 

"Just scream..."

Legolas' breathing became ragged, as he tried to fight off the invisible hold- 
but it was hopeless. Cold fingers gripped his face, tore at him, touched his 
body, his face, his hair...invisible fingers danced on his skin as he felt panic 
setting in. Suddenly there was silence again, and Legolas fell to his knees, 
exhausted, looking around as if waking from a nightmare. 

{Was I asleep?}

"Feel the change, ..." a clear voice cooed in his ear suddenly, and he jumped- 
eyes wide. While he felt his heart rate's speed back up, he searched the 
darkness for the source of the whisper. Nothing again- but it had certainly not 
been his imagination. 

The group stood away from him- even the ghostly army could be seen with them. 
Away from him-far, far...further than he could reach, it seemed...

"Do you feel it, child of darkness?" The voice was soft spoken...and deathly. 
Legolas jumped up from his kneeling position, unconsciously grabbing one of his 
long knives from its scabbard as he observed the darkness warily. There was 
laughter, and suddenly he was not alone once more. The shadows seemed to form 
shapes- looming over him, around him- everywhere-

{What is this sorcery? Who speaks?} He wanted to scream, but his voice was 
frozen- there were no assailants to fight off, nor a presence to be felt...there 
was nothing but the voices and the shadows...

{Hush now, princeling} His own voice said calmly- speaking from some far away 
corner in his frightened mind {Hear them...listen to the shadows...}

"The Child is scared!" Screamed a different voice, and Legolas felt his hands 
turning numb- heard the fall of his knife to the ground as his eyes focused on 
one particular shadow- one that seemed to surround him- to try to crush him...he 
was helpless, defenseless...transfixed by the play of shadows...

"He hears us! He can hear us!"

"More than that...he listens!"

"The Lord has won!"

"An Elf to play with...an Elf for us!"

"Who is there?" His own voice came out faint- no strength left behind it...he 
felt a paralyzing fear- there was no room for rational thoughts...the voices 
were calling him, were speaking to him, shattering everything else...he had but 
to listen.

"He answers us!" They cried- and the sounds were joyful, and frightening. "He 
can hear us- at last! He denies us no further! He speaks to us! The Child of 
Darkness has awakened!"

"What is this?" he whispered to no one in particular- searching to see beyond 
the shadows. He no longer could see the group a few feet away- he could not see 
them! There was only darkness, only shadow...!

"Little one..." The voice was inside his head no longer- was his any longer- but 
the possessive hiss could be well recognized- could it have materialized in 
these nightmarish shadows? Could his own mind become another being- another 
enemy?

"By the Valar!" Legolas screamed, his eyes wide, his limbs shaking- brought back 
from his trance by the all too real feeling of a hand tilting his face up.

"Legolas?"

Blinking he stared, and saw just the shadows around him, felt his skin bruise 
beneath the gentle hold on his face. He was shaking, eyes wide- but he could not 
move away...

"Legolas?"

The hand ran over his face, bruising its path through his skin- it hurt! It hurt 
him badly! The whispers and the screams continued, as some twisted song to 
accompany the panic. His breathing was too fast, but it did nothing to muffle 
their voices...

"The Child is frightened!"

"The Child is helpless!"

"The Child belongs to darkness now..."

"Nay..." He choked out- but they heard him not

"The Child can fight no longer!"

"Nay!" he screamed out, and felt the hands on his face tighten, felt blood on 
his face- felt the burning pain.

"Legolas!" his captor called to him, and he blinked again- the shadows 
remaining...

Suddenly the knife was on his hand- never had it been dropped to the ground- and 
his paralyzed limbs could be moved again. With the hands still on him, he did 
the only thing he could do against the bruising hold that held him captive...

{Fight!}

The knife pierced through flesh, as Legolas watched, spellbound, the slow 
appearance of blood that followed the shocked cry from his captor. There were 
hands on him again, but he could not fight them anymore, as he watched blood 
welling from the wound he had just caused. The whispers of the shadows sounded 
gleeful as he listened. 

"He has fallen!"

"He is ours..."

The hands on him were bruising him- but he welcomed the pain. Welcome the 
feel...of anything...

"Legolas!"

{The knife...is...where is...?}

He looked down in a daze, and found the knife buried in his own shoulder, blood 
dripping down his body. The voices screamed in his ear as he succumbed slowly to 
a more profound darkness than the one that surrounded him already. 

****

Aragorn held the limp body of his friend in his grasp, as Elrohir gently cleaned 
the wound on the archer's shoulder. Confusion welled in the ranger's mind- and 
despair more profound than any he thought he could know.

His friend seemed long gone now- Legolas had seemingly succumbed, at last.

"Darkness has claimed him." A voice announced suddenly, voicing his thoughts, 
and the ranger looked up to meet the troubled gaze of Elladan "I believe he 
could fight it no longer- I see no other explanation for this."

The human sighed, not knowing how to come into the prince's defense. Indeed- the 
Elf apparently had loss his battle, and the Ranger didn't know what this could 
mean- didn't know what they were to do now.... 

Surely not...kill him...? The human shuddered at the thought, and held the 
unconscious body a little tighter to himself. 

An unlikely voice spoke up then, and broke the tense silence of the group. "You 
think very little of him," said Gimli "if you think this stubborn Elf would 
surrender so easily-without a fight..."

"You can hardly say he did not fight, Gimli," Aragorn interrupted sadly "But he 
has been struggling since Moria...the further we go, the further he falls...and 
now...you did not see him just now..."

Aragorn thought back to the empty look in those familiar blue eyes, to the cold, 
clammy skin of the Elf as he had stood there, as if paralyzed, staring into 
nothing with a knife on his hand. When Aragorn had found him like this he had 
been worried at the lack of response- at the empty look- but his calls were 
ignored by the Elf, or perhaps not even heard. 

Legolas had been somewhere else...had seemingly been unaware that Aragorn had 
taken his face in his hands, that Aragorn had been calling his name. The Ranger 
never saw it coming, when suddenly Legolas was yelling out denials and then 
lifted the knife in his hand- his eyes never clearing - pushed the man away 
violently with the wooden handle before burying the blade into his own shoulder. 
Legolas had looked down then, and his blue eyes had apparently focused briefly 
on the blood, before collapsing into the Ranger's arms. 

The blank expression had never changed- not even in pain when the knife was 
buried into his shoulder. No, Aragorn held no other explanation besides saying 
that Legolas had finally succumbed to the weight of the shadow that haunted him. 

"He has not given up," Gimli said confidently. The man's gaze lifted to meet the 
eyes of the dwarf as he spoke next "I know he has not."

Elladan and Elrohir remained in silence, but Aragorn could see their doubts 
showing on their troubled eyes. When the younger twin was done bandaging the 
Prince's shoulder he sat back, and searched Aragorn's gaze. 

"We have to move, Estel- War does not wait for anyone," He said gently, before 
his gaze lowered to the pale face of Legolas and his eyes softened "What do we 
do?"

There was a short silence, then Elladan crouched down next to Aragorn, and began 
to gently put Legolas' tunic back on. "We go forward," he said resolutely "and 
we take him with us- he is no threat."

Aragorn mechanically helped his foster brother with the tunic, nodding his head 
as he did, ignoring the slight hesitance his brother's voice had held. 

"Of course he is no threat!" the dwarf chuckled mirthlessly "He is just one 
skinny Elf,"

Aragorn grinned faintly, while the twins remained impassive. "Are you quite sure 
he won't harm us?" Elrohir spoke softly, and all eyes turned to him "can we 
control him? He has harmed himself already...could have killed himself even, had 
he but buried the knife lower."

Aragorn stood from his seat, lifting the slender frame of Legolas easily into 
his arms "He will wake soon and he will not wake alone in these shadows. I could 
never do that to him-and neither could any of you. Let us continue our path 
towards Pelargir-with him." His statement was final and firm. Nobody questioned 
the decision further- nobody dared to- as they moved towards their horses, 
ignoring the questioning looks the other men directed towards the unconscious 
Elf in Aragorn's arms.

****

One would think unconsciousness would be best for a worn out soul- and one would 
be wrong. How could Legolas escape the shadows while trapped inside his own 
fogged mind? The whispers were relentless as he lay there- unable to fight back 
and walk away- trapped in a nightmare that could well be reality...

"Legolas," The commanding voice of his father boomed, and he whirled around, 
watching the King of the Northern Elves staring at him with ice on his gaze 
"Look where your weak heart has led you...is this all you can contribute to the 
world- only shadow and grief? Look around! Look around and tell me- what good is 
this all for?"

Afraid. Legolas was afraid to look, to face the shadows- what would he find? He 
could not do as his father bid him, and yet the anger in those eyes was growing, 
as he stood there, unable to obey a direct command. 

"Father this is not of my making..." He tried to explain, but his words went 
unheard. His mouth moved he knew he had spoken the words...yet the world, the 
very air around him seemed to swallow them.

"Look around!" His father said softly, menacingly, in a tone Legolas had only 
heard him use when talking of the vile creatures of Mordor. "Can you bring 
yourself to do that, boy? To see what you have done?"

Was this even his father? Legolas wondered, as he stood rooted to the spot, 
unable to look away from his father's gaze. Suddenly those eyes were no longer 
blue, they swirled and changed, and all became confusing. What was blue became 
black and where his father was, stood nothing. Hands guided him, moved, him 
around, forced him to open his eyes and face the world without his consent.

"Look around..." A deathly whisper in his ear, a simple command that this 
time-he could not refuse. Like it held a life of its own, his gaze moved and 
took in the decay and destruction that surrounded him. 

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream, to cry out. Instead there 
was not a sound, and the shadows that danced around him came closer, moving like 
flying creatures until they were inside of him, inside his mouth, gagging him 
and forcing their will on his body. He felt possessed, as his head moved from 
one side to the other, taking in the grotesque scene. 

He stood on the front steps of the palace of Mirkwood-green plants and trees had 
seemingly melted, leaving pools of slime in the grounds of the town. The houses 
and surrounding trees burned in dark fire, and all around him the dead bodies of 
friends lay decomposing. Pools of blood surrounding the corpses gave them a 
touch of colour that contrasted horribly with their pale skin and dried hairs. 
Some were barely recognizable as Elves- some were mere skeletons. Others lay 
there, eyes open and unseeing, all turned in his direction as he stood there- 
the only one standing. A hand landed suddenly on his shoulder as he watched, 
heavy and cold, and he could not turn around to see to whom it belonged. 

"Do you like what you see?" A voice hissed in his ear, "What you have done?"

"I have done nothing..." To even get the words out took more effort than he 
expected, almost more than he could handle.

"Nay?" The voice laughed, and its sounds was chillingly familiar "Look 
closer..."

And in one of the bodies there was a knife buried to the hilt in its throat- the 
head almost completely separated from the body. The mouth was opened in a silent 
scream, as the grey eyes stared at him dully. No life in them-a glazed fear 
frozen for eternity. The face of that body was decomposed almost beyond 
recognition- but he could identify the features nonetheless, as he could say to 
what house the clothes the corpse wore belonged to. He recognized the carved 
knife the body held. 

"Elladan...!" He whispered brokenly, wanting to go to his friend and make sure 
this wasn't real "Elladan..."

"Aye, 'tis the oldest twin of Elrond...surely you remember slaughtering him?" 
the voice cooed, as Legolas' blood ran cold in his veins "Surely you remember 
your promise to him?" 

"Not a promise..." The prince choked out, and the hand on his shoulder squeezed 
tighter.

Abruptly he was staring at his own face- hard and unforgiving, and he was facing 
Elladan's incredulous eyes as an oath filled the air around them.

"You shall never address me such again," Legolas' voice declared loudly.

And then he was back- Elladan's corpse rooting in front of his eyes. "I would 
dare say you meant that as an oath...I bet Elladan believes that as well." 
Laughed the voice of his captor "now, would you look at that?"

Cold fingers gripped his chin, and he was turned away from one proud son of 
Elrond, only to be faced with the other one. Elrohir was not decomposing yet, 
his features pale and clearly frozen in a grimace of anguish. A gaping wound was 
where his chest should be, and Legolas felt his stomach churn. 

"He tried to defend his brother, ..." the low voice said disapprovingly "against 
his own best friend..."

"It was not me," Legolas sobbed, breath catching "I would never..."

"Oh, but you would...you did..." The prince looked down to find his clothes 
covered in fresh blood- red, bright, blood- "he never saw it coming..."

Legolas closed his eyes, only to quickly reopen them in shock when he felt a 
stabbing pain on his shoulder. "Aragorn gave a mighty fight," came the whisper, 
"even managed to injure your shoulder before you killed him..."

Legolas felt his body turning around, walking towards the inside of the palace. 
His steps echoed clearly in the empty hallways as he walked, with no will of his 
own, towards the throne room. The voice was a constant with every step he took 
"You punished him for it, though..."

The great door of the room burst open- and there was Aragorn. Legolas fell to 
his knees and retched, wide eyes filling with tears while his breath came in 
sobs of despair. The icy hand was on him again- lifting his face and forcing to 
look. The man sat at the throne, a golden crown well placed on his head, which 
was on the ground. The headless body was surrounded by a sea of blood, marked 
with sword wounds of enough depth to make the body seem separated- as if cut 
into pieces. Images danced in front of his eyes- distant memories of the hoarse 
screams of his friend as Legolas ran him through with a sword- over and over- 
never lethal wounds, never finishing him off, until the sword was placed at the 
neck of the man, and...

Legolas retched again, felt invisible arms lifting him from the ground, holding 
him steady. 

"Now, now...this is what you wanted, is it not? To be the last one standing- to 
be the strong one...you proved your superiority to all of them...Princeling..." 

His vision went white when a wave of agony ran through his body, making every 
muscle tremble beneath its wake. The Elf fell to the ground, barely able to hold 
his weight while the agony subsided- his gasps for breath muffled by a laugh 
from the figure behind him. While the pain became a dull ache, Legolas held his 
breath until his lungs burned for air- and let it out in a rush when he realized 
that he regained the control over his limbs...but where could he run to, in this 
destroyed place? Who would help him? - Crystalline tears ran down his face in 
burning rivers as he thought of all the corpses...Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn- had 
that been Haldir ran through with a sword? Had the skeleton with the clothes of 
Rivendell been Elrond or Glorfindel? 

"Don't weep now, little one...you'll show them weakness? You never know if they 
may be watching you still..."

"Be Silent! Just...do not talk...shut up..." Legolas screamed- his voice 
breaking while horrible images ran through his head-he lifted his gaze slowly to 
meet his own eyes in the figure in front of him "What did you make me do...?"

"I made you open your eyes..." The voice answered softly- the same voice that 
was with him since Moria...the same voice that had become such a part of himself 
over time, that it was frightening. The tone was soothing now, and an alien hand 
that looked like his came down to touch his face gently- it was freezing cold. 
"I helped you to see what they did to you- to see just how alone you were..." 

"I am alone now, " Legolas hissed, fury and despair intertwining in him on a 
dangerous mixture "How is that helping me? How did you help me at all? You 
haunted me for months...tormented my mind, my body...drove away my friends...and 
look at them now..."

"They are at your feet now," His look-alike laughed, standing up and walking 
away from him "Just like you wanted."

"I did not-"

"Do not waste your breath on me, little one-," The other said "I know your 
thoughts, your feelings- I know you better than you have ever known yourself. I 
know you as the scared child you are beneath the layers, and the masks...I know 
you without any of them to protect you..." he pointed at the rooting corpse of 
his once-best friend, but Legolas refused to look "I know you, child...and you 
wish to know me- do you not? You wish to see who hides wearing your face?"

Legolas met the blue orbs that observed him, and shakily stood from the ground 
on legs that threatened not to support his weight- "You are not I," he whispered 
dangerously "just as I thought...yet you always denied..."

"And you believed me? Above yourself? Does that not show you how insecure you 
are- how easily manipulated? They all used you, little one-you know it well- 
that is why you slaughtered them all in cold blood,"

"You slaughtered them!" Legolas yelled, trying to lurch himself at the leering 
figure, but he was easily sidestepped, and the shock combined with the confusion 
and anguish made his body heavy.

"Oh, poor child..." The other whispered, "I did nothing but give you the 
strength you lacked! You remember their murders, do you not? You remember their 
screams of betrayal and pain? You remember the satisfaction?"



And he did! Oh Valar, he did remember all of that- remembered and relived it 
second after second- horrid scenes dancing in front of his gaze. This 
nightmarish world turned and whirled before his eyes, to find himself once again 
covered in fresh blood, standing above the bodies of so many familiar faces...

"Legolas?" He looked up and met blue eyes of ice that had somehow escaped from a 
mirror "Do you want your answers?"

The Elf looked around where he stood -eyes weary and filled with tears- friends 
and family slaughtered, home burned to ashes...his world shred to pieces- he had 
no strength left, and he sat on the floor, uncaring for the blood that seeped 
through his clothes, uncaring of the pain that came from his injured 
shoulder...just...uncaring...

And it was so that the Prince of the Elves made a decision. Lifting his gaze and 
meeting those of his tormentor, he smiled slowly- a twisted, deranged smile. 
"Nay," His voice echoed in this place- and slowly, one by one the horrible 
images began to fade into blackness "From you- I want nothing further."

****

Aragorn was exhausted to say the least. Even while his foster brothers had 
repeatedly offered to help, he had rode with Legolas' unconscious form for hours 
on end, continuously struggling with the distraught body that at times tried to 
escape his hold, and at times burrowed closer to his embrace. The Ranger sighed, 
careful not to disturb his friend as he brushed a strand of blond hair away from 
the closed eyes. He was not used to this- not used to having Legolas in his 
arms, helpless and unreachable- was not used to not knowing what he could do to 
help his friend. Now when the company was giving the horses some time to recover 
from their unrelenting pace he could feel the whole of the situation taking its 
toll on him. 

"Estel," came the voice to his right and he turned slowly to meet Elrohir's eyes 
"There are decisions to be made."

The man sighed; nodding his head while his eyes strayed back to the now still 
form of the Prince of Mirkwood. Face strikingly pale, features drawn and 
troubled- the Elf seemed beyond anyone's help. "I know," he said simply "but the 
decision does not become any easier." 

The younger twin nodded in silence, taking a seat next to his foster brother 
while looking at his prostrated friend with pained eyes "I could ride back-" the 
half-Elf announced suddenly "I could ride back towards Rivendell with him, 
perhaps bring him to my father..."

Aragorn was already shaking his head when his brother's voice faded away "The 
path is far too long and hazardous for you to ride it alone, much less caring 
for Legolas- who could still wake up in the ride and try to head back here. 
Besides...Elladan and I both need you here..." the human stated calmly, then 
hesitating upon the words he lowered his voice "I need Legolas here as well."

Elrohir didn't answer, seemingly lost in thought as he stared into the horizon- 
the look reminded Aragorn of the empty look in Legolas' eyes and the memory 
brought back the feeling of despair, the anger and the helplessness of the 
entire situation. He screwed his eyes shut, fist clenching with the urge to do 
*something*, to fight against whatever was haunting Legolas, to beat everything 
ahead of them and just be able to breath, to live in peace...just to finally be 
able to see hope for all of them. Yet the future was as dim as the very lights 
of Mordor from his point of view. 

Sudden movement made him snap his eyes back open and he stared, incredulous, 
into the open eyes of Legolas, who was staring back intently. 

To be continued...    in chapter 29