The Mist and The Shadow
Middle-Earth, a place of peace and propriety, balance and tranquillity. A place of magnificent landscape, unspoilt for centuries, where more then one race of people could live in harmony. It was the middle of the Forth Age, and almost all knowledge that remained of the War of the Ring, had almost been lost, or was written in books. In Men, the there has been four generations, two hundred years, and now they were at the head of Middle-Earth, its defenders in time of great need. The great people of Rohan and Gondor, the two realms of Men, which have been united for the past hundred years, in the union of the two royal houses. There was much rejoicing on both sides, much celebrating, which lasted for many months.
Since this joining of Rohan and Gondor, the realm of Men, has been growing stronger, in time. Each of the other races of Middle-Earth, including the Hobbits, the Drawves, the Ents, the cave trolls untampered by Orcs, and the Eagles, were working alone side Men, as they did, two Age's ago, when Elves were the head race of Middle-Earth. All of these had prospered with the changing times but there is was one creature still living among the trees of Gondor, a singular person proving that time, had no meaning. Still living, in the shadow of Minas Tirth, himself casting his own shadow onto the city. The residents of the great White City, were so used to this shadow, this force, in the now fully grown forest surrounding Minas Tirth, that they had become dependent upon it. This force had grown out of all living knowledge, and now no one, no longer knew the true origin of the force of the forest. There were however, many rumors, which had been floating around the city for years, but nothing had ever been confirmed.
The sun was beginning to rise on a beautiful day, during one of the warm midsummer days of spring, when the city rose full of life and anticipation, since it had been grieving from the recent death of the King of Gondor, Aranite, the grandson of Aragorn, who passed away from old age, and illness, but still a great ruler. But now was the time for the coronation of a new king, the arrogant son of King Aranite. But he was the only heir to the throne, but Gondor had no choice. The new king has always taken a keen interest in the force of the forest, who it was, the origins behind it.
This had been a great hindrance to the residence of the forest when the new king was a boy, but Legolas knew, he could not harm him, even if he went looking for the elf. Legolas was one of the few remaining Elves left in Middle-Earth, after all this time, and he really did not like to draw attention to himself. He had lived as he has always lived, off the blood of any traveler who had dared to enter his forest, but he had not entered the great city, keeping himself to himself, feeling the emotions of the goings on in the city. Legolas knew there was festivity in the city, at the crowning of the new king. The elf was not best pleased about this, he had never liked the human, and at the moment he like him even less.
A few hours earlier, Legolas has been on his usual hunt for blood through the thick, dark, forest, he now called home, when he keen, sharp, blood red eyesight spotted a man running in the distance. Legolas followed, figuring that there was no harm in working up an appetite, and his speed and stealth was unmatched, against the human's. As the elf ran, he saw that the man was not alone, this was common in the forest, these days, as it was unadvised to travel through the forest on a solitary basis, especially at night. Legolas didn't care or know why, but it was more food for him, as blood was running scarce at the moment.
He pursued his meal with ease, waiting for him to lose his breathe, and therefore his strength, and then, Legolas smiled with evil glee at this thought, as he always did...he could then take this human's life. They moved rapidly through the woods, towards a small clearing, when Legolas finally caught up with his long earned dinner. He grabbed the man from behind, and sunk his long fangs deep into the man's neck and drank. His partner continues running ahead, and by the time he turned back for his friend, Legolas, had drained him of every drop of blood, the human had. The man turned to see Legolas drop the body, and looked in fear.
Legolas saw with an evil grin, as the man was severely shaking, but he was holding a roll of parchment with the Royal seal of Gondor, written upon it. The elf frowned as the man held out the message towards the him. Legolas took the message, which was written in extremely neat handwriting. He read it, it was from the new king.
"To the force of the Forest, hear my call. I wish to invite you to my coronation, a joyous occasion for Gondor and for Rohan, you have been the our protection for as long as our people can remember. I wish to meet you, our protector, and so do the people of Minas Tirth. We would be grateful for your presence and there is a rumor that you knew Aragorn, a witness to the War of the Ring. Yours Sincerely, Aratheidon, great grandson of Aragorn, future king of Gondor."
Legolas looked up to see that the man had hurried off while the elf was reading. He stood in shock, for two hundred years, through four generations, he had never been invited to the city before, and there has been an unspoken mutual agreement between Aragorn, and his future descendants with the elf, all those years ago, that he would be left in peace. He was and to some degree still is, continually suffering with the constant battle between his vampire and elven soul's, still causing him extreme pain, knowing that death was the only release. He had contemplated this, about his own suicide, but the only thing that stopped him, was that who would protect Gondor? Over the past century, Gondor had, had enemies, who had tried to take down the royal family, and Legolas has stopped them, but had still never been seen by any person, alive, in Gondor. There were many rumors, of who he really was, but they were seldom believed, because not an single elf, had ever been seen since they permanently left for the Undying Lands, and had never returned.
Legolas had to make a decision, the coronation was later that day, close to dusk, but he knew that if he did not go, he would never be left in peace, especially from the king. Should he risk it? He was unsure, but he, himself was curious about the new king, as something in the deep of his vampire soul, was conveying to him that the new king shouldn't be trusted. Then if he didn't trust the king, then Gondor was in danger. Legolas accepted the invitation and headed towards the city.
During the preparations for the coronation, the new king, Aratheidon, was arguing with a adviser.
"My liege, I do not advice that inviting the force of the forest here, was a good plan. You have put yourself it great danger, and anyway, you can't guarantee that he will come!"
"He will be here, my friend!" The king sounded unsure, as he walked out the main throne room, through the large entrance doors, to where the famous Dead Tree of Gondor was still standing. There was a great gathering, outside the palace, the people waiting for the new king. Aratheidon looked among them, looking for anything unusual, but saw nothing and proceeded forwards for the ceremony.
Legolas walked through the city, cautiously, fully armed with his exquisite elven bow, knifes and arrows, keeping his blood red eyes sharp and his ears pricked for the slightest sound. The city had not changed much in the intertwining streets, which still remained the same. He walked slowly, keeping to the shadows of the fading the sun. Legolas felt uncomfortable, without the shelter of the trees, but he continued anyway. He walked through the city, until he heard cheering in the distance, from a place he knew well. The Palace of Gondor. He approached the back of the crowd, as silent as a mouse, struggling to contain his hunger, from the rich smell of blood, flowing through the people. He tried to ignore it, as he used his extreme eyesight, to see the king, in the distance, the ceremony over.
Aratheidon was just about the enter the palace for his first court, as the new king, when he saw them, through the crowd. A clear pair of blood red eyes, that were becoming brighter and yet darker in appearance, as the sun set on the horizon. The king felt fear as he stared, frozen in position, unable to move. A guard inquired as to what was wrong with his king, he saw, for himself. The crowd became quiet and turned around, seeing Legolas standing behind them, blood red eyes glaring, in the darkness. The crowd parted as Legolas walked slowly forward, in attack mode, not trusting anyone. Whispers broke out among the crowd, most of which were about who he was.
Legolas still carried the invitation in his hand, which he gave to the Aratheidon at the foot of the entrance doors of the palace. Hands trembling, the king opened the parchment and read his own message, and looked at Legolas.
"It's you, your the force of the forest!" He spoke in a hoarse, fearful whisper can could be heard by every single person, in earshot. Legolas said nothing. He was surveying King Aratheidon, through his eyes, trying to figure out what wrong with the king, what it was his vampire soul was telling him? There was a long moment of silent before Legolas spoke.
"What do you want with me?" he said, his voice, on purposely, icy cold and emotionless, designed to sent fear through the heart of any man who dared to cross him. The king stood rooted to the spot, stunned, before one of his advisers, told him to go inside, away from the darkness, as the guards were dispersing the crowd. Aratheidon found himself being steered into the palace, of which, Legolas followed, and only from the light from the palace, could his spender be truly revealed.
The beauty of this exquisite creature had not wavered through time, as he appeared ever more beautiful then during the War of the Ring. Tall, slim and stunningly well built, his pale skin, and immaculately kept long blonde hair shimmering in the light of the palace. He was still wearing the customary green and brown of the woodlands, and the symbols of his original home, Mirkwood, a place not visited in a some time, though still well remembered. His usual weapons of his bow, drawn with one of his prime arrows, were in a firing stance, reflecting Legolas's suspiciousness of the king. He was a beautiful balance of vampire and the race to which he was born to, an ancient, but now, unfortunately, a very rare people, of which proof showed in the points of his high sensitive ears. His deep blood red eyes were now heavily fixed upon the king.
"My Lord, he's an elf!" someone spoke from within the palace as Aratheidon again stared at him, as he was now sat on the throne of Gondor. Legolas hissed through his fangs at this comment, as he turned to the guard who said it, he had grown to like humans less and less, over the centuries.
"So you decided to come!" The arrogance of the King Aratheidon, was clear through his voice. "Who are you?" but noticing something odd about the elf, he rephrased the question, even more arrogantly then before, and this time with a grin, "What are you?"
Legolas's blood red eyes narrowed at this, he hissed, opening his mouth slightly, baring his fangs. The evil reining inside the king grew stronger, an evil that only Legolas could detect, through his own black vampire soul. He also felt his temper flaring slightly and the hunger burning. But he tried to keep calm, anyway.
"First, tell why I am here?" The elf was growing impatient.
"I wanted to see you!" The king grinned at Legolas. Legolas looked at the king and found the conversation was going nowhere. He knew the king was pushing him, and he couldn't stop him. Legolas did not like to be being indoors, and the sooner he left the better.
"I am Legolas, of the woodland realm of Mirkwood, I have been protecting Gondor for the past two hundred years, since the War of the Ring, in the forests of Minas Tirth..." Aratheidon cut across him.
"Protecting Gondor from what?!"
"No mortal could ever know!" Legolas replied with nothing more then a whisper, which was still loud enough to be heard.
"What do you mean? What should you elves care about Gondor? Your people left Middle-Earth, after the War of the Ring, you said so yourself, you were there?!" The king of Gondor was getting agitated, and annoyed.
Legolas smiled, for the first time since he entered the palace. It was a slight smile of pure sarcasm.
"I am no more of an elf then you are!" Legolas laughed, for the reason was that he knew and had spotted, and King Aratheidon has the distinct slight points of his own, for the king had elven ancestry in the form of Arwin, King Aragorn's wife. The king frowned, no longer annoyed, the whole palace was silent.
"What?!" He almost yelled, Legolas continued grinning, he was thoroughly enjoying seeing the king shaking, partially with fear. Legolas did not answer the king, but stared at him. But it was at that moment, in a split second, Legolas saw, what no mortal could ever see, something only a vampire could see, a vampire elf. Through his blood red eyes, he had managed to penetrate deep within into the soul of the king, and saw something so sinister, so evil, that it caused the elf to stumble backwards, in extreme shock. What this evil was, Legolas couldn't explain, but he knew that it was the worse then anything he had ever encountered.
The elf was breathing heavily, staring at the king in complete shock, backing towards the entrance doors of the palace, his bow at the ready. Then he saw it, the look in the king's eyes, Aratheidon's eyes, a slight pure evil grin on his face, that told Legolas that the king was not himself, that he had been over come by evil. Legolas looked round, the guards of the palace were staring at him, not at their king. They could not see this in the evil in the king, no mortal could see it. Legolas turned for the doors, never in his two thousand, nine hundred and forty six year long life, either as an elf, or a vampire, had he felt fear like this. Not even against the Balrogs, of which he had a full clear understanding, producing their own justified terror, come close to the fear that struck Legolas at that very moment. Aratheidon called for his guards to stop him but not before Legolas, with lightning speed, shot an arrow which landed deep in the chest of the king, wounding him, but not killing him. This gave Legolas the chance break, he needed, through the entrance doors and out into the night. Legolas ran through the city, without looking back, with a combined speed of elf and vampire, that he never knew he had. He was fleeing with fear.
Legolas ran through the great White City and barged through the main gates, into the forest. He ran until he could no longer hear, nor see the city behind him. The elf stopped, panting and shaking very slightly. He had no idea what he had seen but he knew what it was pure evil at its best. He stood leaning against a tree, trying to understand the situation. What was going on? This evil was not from Mordor, it had no presence there. Legolas straighten himself, realising that it had no presence there as far as he knew. As a vampire, he could feel an evil presence in Mordor, and so far he had felt none. He would need to seek the council of a person, whose sensors were more attuned in the dark evil of Mordor then his.
Legolas heard voices behind him, which he recognised as human. King Aratheidon had sent men after him, they were combing the forest, and now the elf felt no longer safe. He had to leave, Legolas was unsure what the humans were looking for, and didn't want to stay to find out. He cast his mind back to the time of the War of the Ring, looking for a solution. Then it hit him, rather hard. There was only one other person still alive, from that time of the War of the Ring, who had both the knowledge and the experience to help. But he would need a horse, to get to the destination of where this person had retired. Legolas listened to the on coming humans, and heard hoof steps among the people on foot. He figured only, one or two people on horse back, not many as the forest was too dense.
Legolas waited behind a large tree, silent in the darkness, watching with his extreme night vision, for the riders to pass by. Legolas licked his lips with hunger, he had not fed for a while now, and was struggling to keep control. He peered round the tree and saw one of the riders, just a few feet away, within good striking distance. But he had to be fast, very fast, as there were more humans in the forest then he could handle on his own, and he had to take down the human, and steal his horse, at the same time, at tremendous speed and extreme silence.
He decided to climb the tree, and waited, before jumping onto the horse from behind, and sinking his fangs into the rider, drinking the refreshing and much needed blood. Within minutes, the rider was dead, and Legolas through him onto the dirt ground before saddling the brown stallion and turning east, galloping towards the edge of the forest. Before long, he was being followed, but his elven lightweight built, meant that the horse could gallop faster then with a heavier human riding upon it and soon, they fell behind. Through the darkness he rode, turning north around the White Mountains, following the river around Minas Tirth, before turning north-west through Rohan and towards Isengard. Even for an elf, it was six days hard riding from Minas Tirth to Isengard, there was sense of urgency that was paramount as Legolas rode as fast as the horse he was riding would allow.
But it was dawn on the sixth day, when Legolas finally reached the gates of Isengard, and rode towards through the newly grown trees towards the main entrance doors of Orthanc Tower. The elf was exhausted, mainly through the lack of blood, lack of sleep, and also spending a large amount of time in direct sunlight, was something he neither liked or was good for him. The horse stopped at the front the main doors of the Orthanc tower, and it at this point that Legolas passed out, sliding off the horse and cold on the dirt ground.
Through the darkness, Legolas saw and felt light and strength, come back into his body, as he felt something being put to his lips and the warm, sweet and now familiar taste, of something he had now grown to become a major part of his life, blood. Legolas opened his blood red eyes, of which he had to squint due to the gracefully white figure, before him. Legolas was lying on his back, still tired and but quickly regaining strength. Legolas looked at the white wizard, who sat on the end of the bed and spoke in a soft voice in Saldolin, Legolas's own native language, a form of Elvish that was never spoken in Middle-Earth, nowadays, especially by Men.
"How are feeling?"
Legolas tried to sit up but the wizard prevented from doing so.
"Gandalf!" He needed to tell the wizard what he had seen in the king of Gondor.
Gandalf put a hand on the elf's shoulder. Legolas was breathing heavily.
"Calm down, what is wrong?"
Legolas faced Gandalf and looked him in the eye, his blood red eyes glaring. Legolas could still tell that his eyes could still make the great white wizard uncomfortable. He took no pleasure in that. Gandalf has restored Isengard to its former glory, after Sauroman was defeated, he was forced to give up the wizard strong hold. Gandalf was now the head of the wizard order and unfortunately like Legolas, the last of his kind in Middle-Earth. His magnificence was still as splendid as it was during the War of the Ring, and was still equally was powerful. He was staring at the elf with a frown on his face.
"Why have you ridden to Isengard? Is Gondor in jeopardy?"
"It could be!" Legolas replied, "I am unsure, it is the new king!"
"King Aratheidon?" Legolas nodded, he wasn't surprised that the wizard knew, nothing happening in Middle-Earth nowadays, without Gandalf's knowledge. He looked distressed. "What's happened?" Legolas sat up.
"A mist and a shadow has taken over King Aratheidon, I saw evil inside the king's soul, an evil that no mortal could see." Legolas's head fell in shame, "An evil that only a vampire can see. The king has no will of his own, he is under it's complete control and now he is on the throne of Gondor, the realm is in danger including the White City, and possibly Rohan. The people of Minas Tirth, will follow their king, without question and with complete loyalty and honor."
Gandalf frowned, he did not quite understand what the elf was explaining. Legolas was frustrated, he looked into the wizards eye's trying to explain to him, what he saw, but looked away in anger, more with himself, then anything else. There was only one way, to show the wizard the evil, was to open his mind and soul to him, a method he was extremely uncomfortable about doing. Gandalf had taken to pacing about the room while the elf was still sat on the bed. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"This must be the reason why I have not felt this evil, but where is the source of this?"
"I do not know!" Legolas replied, standing up to face Gandalf, his firey deep blood red glowing. Gandalf filched, those eyes always made him feel uneasy. He looked into them, deep and dark as always, and Legolas allowed him in. For a single moment, Gandalf saw the world through Legolas's eyes, felt the elf's intense thirst for blood, the loneliness, the constant battle between his soul's, the suffering and finally, he felt the evil, that had struck such terrible fear into him. Gandalf fell backwards looking as shocked as Legolas had been.
"That is an evil based in Mordor, far deeper, older and stronger then anything ever seen there, but I can not be sure. But this is beyond my aid, we need ancient knowledge to fight this evil." Gandalf spoke with haste, moving through the tower, from room to the other, grabbing his cloak and quickly walking towards the stables, Legolas following in complete confusion.
"But Gandalf, who?" Legolas asked, panting.
"Your Father, Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm, he is the only elf left in Middle-Earth who can help our cause. Your must ride to Mirkwood and consult with your father!" Legolas's eyes widened at this and he shock his head.
"I can not do this, he will sense the vampire evil within me, and he will kill me."
Gandalf turned to face him, preparing to mount Shadowfax, the lord of all horses and a member of the Mareass.
"Legolas listen to me, you must do this..." but Gandalf was cut short when Legolas fell to knees, his hands over his highly sensitive ears. The intense pain and high pitched noise was more then the elf could bare, he could feel the evil, first seen within King Aratheidon, flow both over and through him. It was stronger and more potent then before, Legolas could taste the evil, it was far worse then anything ever encountered before. It had no form, no essence and was ripping Legolas apart from the inside out. An ice cold wind blow up with the stables of Isengard, freaking out Shadowfax and for the first time, Gandalf understood. He grabbed Legolas by the arm and pulled him to his feet, with a sense of panic.
"You must hurry and convince your father, the evil it getting stronger, we must stop this before Aratheidon is lost, and who knows how many lives he will take. I will ride to Gondor, to Minas Tirth, to stop Aratheidon but he starts the slaughter and to find the evil's source!" At this Gandalf mounted Shadowfax and rode out of Isengard, at high speed, leaving Legolas collapsed on the ground helpless to stop Gandalf. He and the wizard were the last remaining members of the original fellowship of the ring and to Legolas, Gandalf was the only true friend he now had, and if neither of them could stop this evil, then all would be lost.
The sense of urgency was paramount. Legolas dragged himself up off the floor, saddled his own horse and rode from the tower. He rode on very little blood and headed south east, past the Gap of Rohan and through the Plains of Rohan itself. This was the home of the Rohirrim, the Horse Lords. Legolas stopped his horse of the outskirts. He had a sense of uncertainty over this land, ever since the joining of Rohan and Gondor, the two lands had be closely connected, more closely allied then during the War of the Ring. But time was against him, he took a deep breathe and rode on. Deep in the back of his mind, he knew that King Aratheidon was after him and Rohan was the perfect place for an ambush.
The sun was setting on the horizon of Rohan, and the further he travelled by night, the better. He took a deep breathe and rode on, pushing the horse as fast as it could carry him, riding hard. He continually rode across the West Emnet of Rohan until the horse came to a rest on the southern edge of Fangorn Forest. Legolas was tired, and agreed with the horse, to rest for the day as the sun rose. The elf was extremely thirsty for blood, and going into the forest slightly, he could hear a few animals, not that far away. Legolas felt his vampire instinct grow in fierceness and he grinned as his thirst for blood increase beyond his control. Legolas tied up the horse in a paddock, full of grass, and he was going hunting.
Fangorn Forest was so different then the forest of Minas Tirth, it was thicker, much denser and creepy but Legolas liked it. The air of unearthliness in the forest, made Legolas's vampire heart leapt for joy, which made him feel at home and while he hunted down and drank from the wild animal of forest, he temporarily forgot about him mission to Mirkwood. Legolas was perfected camouflaged in the forest, clad in the brown and green, and still carrying the quiver, bow and arrows of the homeland of Mirkwood. Legolas spent most of the daylight hours hunting in the forest, his vampire soul completely taking over and thoroughly enjoying every spot of blood that was spilt. The only problem was, the forest floor was so dark that Legolas could not tell between the night and daylight hours and it was on the third day before he realised where he was, and why he was in forest to begin with. Legolas panicked, how could he forget about something go urgent, he felt ashamed about loosing control, he hadn't done that since he was first turned by his maker, Samius, a vicious and powerfully evil vampire who had tracked him down, turned him, and who he had killed in return.
Legolas jumped onto his horse and rode at speed, at dusk, from Fangorn Forest straight out across the plains and as he crossed the border from the West Emnet to East Emnet. But he wasn't looking where he was going and before he knew it, he was bounced upon but the Rohirrim tracker's who had been sent from Minas Tirth, after him. They surrounded him, firing arrows at speed, Legolas retaliated defending himself, taking half of them down, before two arrows hit him in the chest forcing him off the horse. A man put the sword to the throat, just about to kill him, before his superior came between them saying that King Aratheidon wanted the elf alive. The king himself was riding in the second party of riders, behind them and was delighted to see that the elf has be caught.
When Legolas saw him, he lashed out at him, feeling the evil in him, more then ever, baring his fangs, glaring blood red eyes, and even being shot twice, he was still struggling against restraints. King Aratheidon got off the his horse, and bent down to Legolas, looking into his eyes, but not before seeing the bodies of his men on the ground, around them. He smiled evilly grabbing his throat, sharply.
"You are very good, especially at killing. My friend, maybe a little too good." He through Legolas to the floor and told his guards to take him as they were going to send the night at Sarn Gesir, a sheltered spot down by the Entwash River, one of the main rivers in Rohan. Legolas was dragged to this place, and thrown to the ground and was guarded throughout the night. If Legolas had been a normal elf, the wounds from the two arrows in his chest would have killed him, and he noticed this. Legolas waited until all was quiet, before he pulled out the arrows in his chest, which healed quickly, and of which had to heal before Legolas could move and escape. The area was completely black, there was no light on the plains of Rohan, as there was no moon.
After a few hours, with Legolas's perfect eye vision had been watching the soldiers take shifts, in guarding him, and being a vampire, meant that he could see through the night, grabbing his chance to escape from the guards an the correct moment. He had been heavily tied in ropes which had ripped off before he removing arrows, and dying from the thirst for blood. In the silence, Legolas got elegantly his feet, and swiftly attacked the soldiers, and killed them, drinking the much needed blood. Legolas watched everyone else, in the darkness, but all the quiet, all was asleep. He backed gentle away, grabbing his armory, and untied one of the horses, saddled it and rode north.
He rode softly at first, not to attract attention, from King Aratheidon. When he had reached some distance, he galloped at full speed north across the rest of the plains of Rohan to the southern end of the Mirkwood. Legolas heard the soldiers ride after him at dawn as the reached Mirkwood, but Legolas had an advantage here, this was Mirkwood, his homeland, and Legolas knew it like no other. He rode through the thick dense trees and soon lost his them. Legolas felt a sense of fear, he knew his father would see straight through him, but he had to try. The palace was on the far northern end of Mirkwood and wondered through the woodland realm.
The land of Mirkwood had not changed much over time and Legolas knew it as though he had never left, even if had fallen into some disrepair since most of its population had left for the Undying lands. The forest was a little overgrown and the crystal lakes, streams and rivers were now running wild, with nature taking its course. Even where trees had fallen, leaving a gaps in the canopy over the forest, allowing in valuable light, for plants on the ground, which grew in plenty, the forest still looked as beautiful as it did hundreds of years ago. Since the elves had left, other animals had come to claim their share of the forest. Deer, wild horses, and all varieties of birds and insects were now common place among the trees and even to this day, the great realm that was Mirkwood, may have lost its elven population but none of its spender. Even after all this time, Legolas still remembered the lay of the land, and more importantly where his father's palace was.
After a few hours, he found himself surrounded by the few elves that had remained to protect Legolas's father, Thranduil.
"Prince Legolas, my Lord, to what pleasure to owe your presence?" one of the elves spoke in Saldolin.
"Quickly, you must take me to my father, it is a matter of great urgency!" Legolas panted, trying to hide the vampire within him. The elves agreed and accompanied him to Mirkwood Palace. They reached the large oak entrance doors, where Legolas hesitated, to the confusion of the other elves. They entered the palace, a large and immaculate building, built from the materials found in the forest itself. There was a sense of gracefulness, and beauty about the palace, as it had stood the test of time, shown by the large amount of ivy, that now covered the walls. The palace itself had been built between the trees, which themselves had been used as the main supports. It was perfectly camouflaged among the trees, invisible to strangers and once the home to Legolas Greenleaf, the much loved, Prince of Mirkwood. Now the elf, felt himself a stranger in this distant land, the great land of Rhovanion, of which Mirkwood was a small part.
They were immediately greeted by King Thranduil, who embraced his son, but stopped very quickly. King Thranduil was classed as an elderly elf, an ancient, and one of the three elven kings who had received a ring form the deceiver, the evil Lord Sauron. Immune, to the power of the ring, he stayed to protect his kingdom, sending his son, with a message to Rivendell. He had witnessed Mirkwood being invaded by Orcs, deserted by the elven and animal populations alike, and almost burnt to the ground and destroyed. Thranduil was a tall and elegant elf, with long light brown hair and wearing the long robes on the Mirkwood colours, green and brown, similar to the exquisite tapestries which decorated the inside of the palace.
He looked at his son, at the two arrow wounds in his chest and then into his eyes which had changed to blue. Then after a moment, the king backed away, and looked frowned and confused. He had sensed something within Legolas that was evil.
"Who are you? What a have you done with my son?" Thranduil spoke in fear.
"Father, what do you mean?" Legolas tried desperately to cover up his vampire soul, a single tear falling down his face.
"Those wounds, they should have killed you, no elf could have survived that!" Thranduil pointed to his son's chest. Legolas looked down and saw the wounds for himself, placing a hand on them, and it was at that very moment that he lost his battle and stumbled slightly. When he looked up to face his father, his eyes had turned to their usual colour of a deep blood red. Thranduil backed away in pure fear, feeling the vampire evil within his son.
"Guards!" Thranduil shouted, and before Legolas knew it, he was disarmed and surrounded. They were going to kill him.
"Father!" Legolas begged and pleaded "I am here to talk, we need your help!"
"You are not my son!" Thranduil spoke in anger. Legolas had to tell his father everything, in order to be accepted. But it could not be guaranteed, but it was a gamble he would have to take. He was desperate.
"Father, please, you must listen to me. A great evil has taken the king of Gondor, King Aratheidon, and the people of Middle-Earth are in danger. This is an evil unlike anything we had ever faced before!"
"How do you know all this?" Thranduil asked as the guards closed in Legolas. Legolas told his father about his transformation into a vampire over two hundred years ago, in extreme detail and fear, shaking as he spoke. Thranduil listened in silence, unbelieving and shocked. When Legolas had finished, he waited for a response from his father, who he expected to kill him, and Legolas would not stop him. But Thranduil said nothing, but turned his back on his son, who was taken to a sealed room in the palace, and locked inside. Legolas did not fight them when he was thrown inside, where he sat and waited.
Legolas waited for what seemed like an age and did not escape, not for many days and nights. Legolas didn't care how long, even though his hunger for blood was slowly taking him over. His father was testing him, that he knew but for how long, he didn't know. Legolas knew that his father could be cruel, remembering the treatment of the drawfes, before the war of the ring. That incident best displeased Legolas, remembering his friendship with Gimili, Son of Gloin. After nine or maybe ten days, the door opened, and King Thranduil came holding a goblet of liquid, slowly walking towards Legolas, who was cowering on the floor in the corner of the room, curled of in a ball, struggling with extreme thirst and hunger for blood as well as exhaustion and tiredness, very close to death.
Thranduil knelt down and looked into his son's deep blood red eyes, and saw Legolas's immense suffering for himself. He offered Legolas the goblet, who backed away in fear, although knowing the contents of the goblet, blood.
"Calm, my son. Drink!" Thranduil said in a soft voice, Legolas backed away, who was now thinner, and very pale, almost white.
"Why are you doing this? I am a vampire, why not let be die or kill me?"
"Because you are my son, and you are willing do die, to keep your honor in the family. The vampire within you is evil, but you have conquered it and in your heart you are good, and you will always be so."
Legolas looked at his father shocked, still shaking with the hunger. Thranduil smiled at him.
"Drink!" he said again, holding out the goblet. Legolas took it and drank the warn, sweet liquid his body had been craving. Thranduil waited for Legolas for finish, who tried to get up, but failed.
"Legolas, why did you come to Mirkwood?"
"Father, the evil in King Aratheidon can only be destroyed with yours and Gandalf's knowledge."
"Gandalf! Where did he go?"
"Minas Tirth, he rode there to stop King Aratheidon slaughtering the people the Gondor!'
Thranduil eyes widened with fear, as if he knew what had something evil had happened, in the great White City of Gondor.
"Come, drink quickly, we must leave Mirkwood and ride to Gondor, for I fear the worst."
Legolas nodded, not understanding what his father meant, until he felt it for himself. The evil swept over him like a think black cloud of darkness, choking him to death. Legolas collapsed to the ground as his father was helping him to his feet. It was at that moment, that Legolas lost complete control. Attacking his father, he dung his inch long fangs into his neck, before Thranduil overthrew his son, with high elven magic, common among the kings. Thranduil was now in control of Legolas, pushing his back against the wall. Legolas fought him at first, with extreme viciousness before he came back to his senses, falling to ground, exhausted. Thranduil knelt down to his son, putting a hand on head, he was heavily bleeding.
"Come, we do not have much time!" Thranduil said, looking concerned and almost fearful, of both his son and the happenings of Gondor. Thranduil grabbed his son, Legolas, who was still weak, and went straight for the stables and saddled two of the horses. They rode from the palace and south back through Mirkwood. They rode through the trees at full gallop. Legolas followed his father, who took the lead, along paths through the forest, that even Legolas did not know. He had never seen his father ride so hard, with such fear and power before. They stopped only to allow Legolas to regain his strength, before heading south to Gondor.
They travelled both day and night, stopping very rarely for rests. Legolas struggled to keep up, still not a fully understanding why his father was still accepting him as his son. They rode until they came to the outskirts of Gondor, where the horror before them, forced them to halt their journey.
They had stopped before a large pool of blood, enough to make even Legolas lick his lips, if it wasn't for what lay beyond. Bodies, corpses, freshly killed, of all the men, woman, children and the livestock were sprawled out across the Pelennor Fields, which King Aratheidon had cleared of forest. The forest which had been Legolas's home for the past two hundred years. They marched slowly through the death, the blood bath, with body parts, guts and intestines were scattered across the field. It was a sickening sight even for the eyes of a vampire, and Legolas knew death extremely well, better then he desired. Legolas looked up the to see the Minas Tirth, in the distance, but instead of being the cleaming white great symbol of Gondor, was stained scarlet red and black, scaring in the mountain side. As they walked, their horses became increasingly nervous, due to the large amount of blood. They marched on through the unlocked gates of the city, to where the blood bath and slaughter continued. The walls were stained red, bloody intestines were draped over the roofs of the building, a stream of blood was flowing through the streets, decapitated heads could be found floating in the bowels of water, also bloodstained red. Legolas pricked up his ears in the streets, for the slightest sound, not a single heartbeat could heard in the cold silence of the streets. It was a though an army had driven through the city, killing every single living thing alive, man, woman, child, bird, or beast.
Thranduil looked along the streets in a silence of horror, tears in his eyes, as they rode through the many layers of Minas Tirth, each with the same blood carnage, the same loss of life. The walls were dripping with thick blood which Legolas tasted, it was human. Another single tear fell down Legolas's cheek, he may have a been a vampire but he still had some respect for life. What had caused this? He did not know but as he and his father rode towards the palace, Legolas felt the evil, the black darkness begin a to cloud his soul, as before in Mirkwood. Thranduil grabbed him, but Legolas remained in control, he was more prepared, but his deep bleed red eyes, glowing in the bright daylight, fell on a singular figure, white against the bloody backdrop, unmoving and silent, near to the dead White Tree of Gondor, no longer white, decorated with the dripping bloody guts of palace soldiers.
"Gandalf!" Legolas jumped off the horse and ran to help his old friend, who lying motionless on the streets of the great White City of Gondor.
"Gandalf! What happened here?" Legolas was crying in Saldolin, trying to wake him. Gandalf was weak and dying, managing to open his eyes, to mutter a single word before his passing, but so quietly that Legolas barely heard.
"Aratheidon!"
Gandalf fell silent and Legolas looked at his father, tears falling down his face with extreme grief and not just for Gandalf. He had failed, he was the soul protector of Gondor and its people, and he had failed, as he could feel death all over Gondor, not just in its great city but everywhere as people were dying, and even in Rohan. He felt powerless and helpless to stop the evil, as it was slowly taking over.
Thranduil had knelt down next to Legolas when the main doors of the palace burst open, with a large gust of wind, spilling more blood out into the Citadil, the courtyard outside the palace. Legolas's vampire temper flared, running with fear, grief and angry, into the palace to find the once splendid walls, floors and ceiling where covered in a thick layer of blood. The palace was empty expect for a cold, icy, evil laugher, that rang out in the palace and across the silent city. Legolas swung round, his temper faring still further, then the floor underneath them shock violently, as though in a earthquake, but formed from pure evil. Thranduil looked up from his own grief, knowing the origin of the rumble and walked outside, followed by Legolas, to see Mount Doom to the east, in the distance, erupt more fiercely then ever, like never before seen, not even during the War of the Ring.
"Mordor!" Thranduil hissed quietly, knowing that was where Aratheidon, would be, and also knowing that he could not defeat him. Only a vampire could achieve that goal. This was a time when fire could only be fought with fire, evil against evil. The one person that Legolas has sworn to protect, was the one person he was going to have to kill, to stop the evil, the bloodshed, the killing. The King of Gondor.
Knowing that race of men was dying, it was going to take a single vampire elf, to save them, the one thing they feared above all else. Legolas agreed, he had no choice, he was alone in this battle, truly alone. A second blast from Mount Doom, caused Minas Tirth to shake again, it was as though Aratheidon was tempting Legolas to come to Mordor. 'come my, sweet, come to your king!' Legolas heard him say evilly inside his vampire soul, he growled and ran to the horses. He turned to face his father, who looked him in the eye, but said and did nothing. Thranduil was going to let him go, which was dangerous. Legolas was a vampire, which was not only evil but power and his control over it, was not that strong. Fighting evil, with evil, may not have been the best course of action, shown by how Legolas had been struggling with his vampire soul.
Legolas rode through the city, out along the plains, kicking up large splashes of blood everywhere, and heading northeast to the Black Gate of Mordor. As Legolas rode, through the plains of Rohan, they were unusually silent. Legolas pricked up his ears, to the slightest sound, of animal, or bird, but heard nothing. Legolas felt a sense of both fear, of what was to come, and grief, of the lack of life across the plains. He continued to ride north, his sense of anger growing, before his horse, stopped abruptly, outside, what could only be called an awesome sight. How could something so evil, be so beautiful? The Black Gates of Mordor, were the doors to pure evil, as Legolas could taste it in the air. But without warning, his horse began to panic and through him off, knocking him to the floor as the black gates began to open. The evil laughter of Aratheidon continued even louder and colder, especially at this.
There were no orcs or cave trolls to operate the gates, Legolas couldn't smell them, but the gates was opening and it seem of their own accord. The horse had bolted by this point, leaving Legolas alone. He pulled himself off the floor and walked forwards, slowly and curiously. He armed his bow, and balanced his arrows, so that they became easily accessible. He walked forwards, following his instinct, rather then his knowledge of the lay of the land. Legolas had never been inside Mordor before and the further he had ever got, was at the gates.
There was a cold chilly wind blowing across the baron landscape even if Mount doom was continually erupting. Legolas heard the voice again, and his eyes adjusted to the fading light, as dusk approach, his perfect night vision kicking into action.
"Legolas!" A voice came from behind him, so cold and evil, it sent a chill down even Legolas's spine. Legolas turned, slowly, increasing the tension on his bow, his arrow ready to strike and with his own voice, cold, emotionless and toneless, he spoke back.
"Aratheidon?!" he growled, staring the man in the eyes. The king laughed, a cold harsh laugh that was not human.
"Aratheidon!" He grinned, through the darkness his arrogance profound.
"Don't kid yourself. The human, has been under my control since he was a child. Why do you think I took such a fascination in you, your a vampire elf, a perfect mixture of the vampire evil over your precious elven goodness. More power then any human. Your a beautiful creature, my friend!" and at these words, the evil essence that had taken over the king for all these years, left him in a split second and swirls around Legolas. He watched helplessly as the human fell to the ground, dying as the essence took him over. If Legolas had thought that his vampire soul was evil, then the essence had no comparison. It was evil at its purest and Legolas recognised it instantly. He fell to his knees as the evil took him over, his vampire soul rapidly took him over.
"Sauron!" Legolas spoke in horror, as the blackness took over him, the thirst for blood extreme. Legolas had to fight. He looked within his elven soul and with the extreme strength, to try and fight Sauron from the inside out.
"How is this possible?" Legolas gasped, struggling against the evil. It was a though his own vampire soul was eating him, ripping him to pieces, from the inside, the pain was unbearable. Sauron laughed.
"My essence was not just in the one ring, part of it survived. I was defeated not destroyed. For I can never be destroyed and therefore you can not fight me!" He laughed cold and evilly at Legolas who his felt the vampire anger swell up inside him, trying to gain some control. Legolas noticed that Sauron's essence was only strong enough to take one host at a time and was nowhere near as powerful as during the War of the Ring, he could be destroyed for good, but how?
"I thought you might fight, as helpless as it seems, you can't destroy me, you would have to kill yourself first!" Sauron laughed, grinning as Legolas struggled. Evil has to be fought evil, and Legolas knew this and with a force, unknown to Legolas himself and with no idea how, he felt the complete joining of his vampire and elven souls and with a burst of his pure evil, he forced Sauron out of his body and back into Aratheidon. He got to his feet, shocked at Legolas's inner power. the king was in shock, as Legolas was cowering on the floor.
"How?"
"Like this?" Legolas look Aratheidon in the eyes, his own deep blood red, now almost black eyes glowing, and with strength, he never knew he had, gave a vampire raw. With anger beyond anything he ever encounter before, anger like the bubbling from Mount Doom itself, he produced a burst of speed and elegant swiftness that was beyond anything any vampire or elf could have produced separately, ran behind the man, bared his fangs and sunk them deep into the neck of the king, and drank very fast, faster then Sauron could fight. Legolas grabbed him, with such strength that he felt the human's rips crack and crush under their immense power, his spin break. If Aratheidon was going to die, then he was going to Sauron down with him. Legolas drank the blood with a thirst unlike anything he had ever felt before. He wanted this man dead and would stop at nothing until he reached his goal. Legolas's lust for killing was now unmatched, not even Sauron.
But he felt more then just blood flow into his body, but it wasn't the essence Sauron, he was dying along with the king. But then all of a sudden Legolas was throw off the king with such force that he fell hard on to the ground, the king falling next to him dead, Sauron finally destroyed. Legolas had left the fate of Men hanging in the balance by killing their only king, with no heir to the throne of Gondor, he knew a civil war would break out from the population that had survived. He knew that many more would die, but now nothing could be done, not now, not ever, as humans were destined to destroy themselves. All because of a failure.
Legolas was lying on his back, breathing heavily, the anger still strong but quickly fading, along with his strength, a darkness taking him over. He may have been an elegant creature, blood dripping from his fangs, deep blood red eyes glowing, but fading, his long blonde hair spread out was along the ground in the low lit moonlight, as if close to death, but not the end. His beautiful green and blown elven clothing, were torn, cover with blood dirt and blood, mainly his own. Not a sound could be heard in Mordor, and across Middle-Earth.
He felt himself passing out but fought against the fading light, the darkness, with what little energy he had left, he became more and more tired, his mind spinning. He felt himself falling, falling through space, for infinity. He felt himself go out of all thought and time, through the mist and shadow, through into a blackness and death beyond all mortal perception. The elf was out cold, pale white, against the black beaten ground of Mordor, waiting for the next evil, to take over. Vampire immorality is unlike elf immorality, cheating death becoming a fine art, but at a cost, loneliness and now failure, for all eternity.
For let time stand still. For one creature, time has no meaning. Immortal, good, and evil, powerful and yet weak, lying still yet magnificent, unlike any other creature found on this earth or since.
Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction S. M. Williams