1.1.1.1 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, or
the original story "Lord of the Rings" by Tolkien. The particular idea of
THIS story though, is mine. ALL MINE, I SAY!
Author's Note: Ummm, yeah. Like usual, CC is very welcome and as I have said before: Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. ( R&R PLEASE!!! I hope you enjoy it, but if not just know that I wrote it on a whim when I suddenly felt like putting someone in pain. Hehe *sweatdrop* Don't ask, I'm a psycho.
1.1.1.2
1.1.1.3 The Pain of Friendship
CHAPTER 1
The fellowship had broken; the quest had failed. Or so they thought. The remainder of the fellowship of the one ring was on the path to doom, though they did not know it. Aragorn son of Arathorn, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas son of Thranduil were on a pathway that led through the forest Fangorn. They were still on their search of Merry and Pippin, but it seemed as though all hope was lost. When they met the Rohan riders and were told of the battle with the Orcs, the riders had told of no Hobbits in the piles of dead or elsewhere, and so the remaining fellowship set out once more, trying feebly to track their lost companions. But they had found a promising trail that led into the dark forest, and all hope was not lost.
Two of the fellowship were already lost forever to the clutches of death, and two more were alone, on their own dire mission. And still yet two more were in the hands of the enemy, painfully alive or dead, was not known. So it was only the last three, who were able to save their companions and keep the quest from falling to disaster. They were traveling slowly through the forest, being very careful every step of the way. Legolas, being a wood elf, was naturally fascinated by the forest. The giant trees were unlike any he had ever seen. They were ancient, so much that even he felt young next to them. The dark green aura of the forest around them was pure and the smell of moist earth and moss-covered wood was thick. Legolas' steps were light, leaving no print of his foot after. His head constantly snapped back and forth, eyes wide, trying to take in all of the magnificent scenery around him. He was completely captivated by its beauty and life; it was as though the ancient trees were somehow alive, and were trying to speak to him, to tell him their story. His joy and curiosity was unbearable; he wanted so to explore. Suddenly the three came upon a giant of trees, the father of all the forest wood brothers, the oldest of them all. Legolas could not contain himself, with a gasp at its elegant beauty he swiftly ran over to it, the grace of his elven legs carried him with the speed of the wind.
"Legolas, no!" Aragorn yelled out to him, voice ringing in the serene quiet of the forest. He knew that Legolas' curiosity had gotten the better of him. He was like a child among all the treasures of the world in this forest of magical, ancient trees. Legolas ignored him, as though he hadn't heard, and so Aragorn and Gimli looked at each other and then followed Legolas to the dark, green covered tree.
When they arrived next to him, they found Legolas was standing motionless in front of the Tree Father, rigid, with his hand out, palm flat against its moss covered bark. His bright blue eyes were closed and his mouth was firm. His fair face looked troubled, and then, slowly, he turned his head to one side, as though he was trying to hear something very far away.
"What is it Legolas?" Gimli was curious to know what troubled an elf such as Legolas.
"My wood brother is speaking to me. It is trying to tell me…" Legolas' pure musical voice, now very soft, trailed of, his brows creasing. Gimli grunted at this, disbelieving that a tree could speak at all, but he was ignored. Aragorn on the other hand, listened to Legolas' words, for he had heard the tales of the elves teaching their forests to speak with them long ago.
"What is it trying to tell you, Legolas?" he asked, taking a step closer to the soft looking tree in front of him, as though he, too, could hear its ancient voice.
"I do not know, I can not understand it; its voice is too soft. I think… I think it has forgotten how to speak, and has fallen back into the sleep of its forefathers. This one is ancient though; one of the first leaves upon the earth when forests were young, and my people were new." Legolas stopped and took a step toward the tree, touching his pointed elven ear against its strong trunk, to listen closer. His mouth tightened, but his eyes, now open, sparkled with a flame of pure bliss and interest, for he was in the forest surrounded by trees and life. After a minute though he brought his head up and shook it, he then started to sing softly a song in his own tongue, which Aragorn heard and translated for Gimli by singing it in the common. It was a song of praise to the forest and all the life it protects within its enclosure. It was a song of its beauty and life, ancient knowledge and wisdom, and the serene power of all the woods. Their patience with the world and creatures upon it was sung of as well in the intricately worded hymn, full of beauty. Gimli and Aragorn were captivated by Legolas' voice as he sang, their eyes never leaving his fair face, until his voice suddenly stopped, and his head turned sharply to the west where was sun was beginning to set, eyes wide. Aragorn and Gimli started, surprised at his sudden movement, then turned quickly to look in the direction Legolas was facing. Gimli, sensing something dark, brought out his well used battle- axe.
Aragorn just glanced at Legolas, "You have the keen senses of your kind; what is it that troubles you?"
"Orcs."
"What!" cried Gimli, anger rising in this throat, "How can there be more Orcs in Fangorn? The riders of Rohan were sure they had killed all of them." Gimli paused his outburst, "How many are there, Legolas?"
"From what I can hear, I count at least a dozen. Be on your guard, they are coming closer." Legolas swiftly pulled out his bow and notched an arrow in it, focusing on the sound of Orcs drawing near. Aragorn took a step forward to stand side by side with Legolas and pulled out his own bow, readying it for the battle to come. Gimli crouched low, so as to be a hard target for enemy archers, and patted his axe, more than ready to shear a few Orc necks.
And suddenly there they were, ten Orcs clear on the path that led through the forest. Three of them were down before they could even take a step, with the arrows of Legolas and Aragorn protruding from them. But those three were not missed and the other seven charged at the companions. It was an easy fight, as Aragorn threw aside his bow to unsheathe his sword, reforged by the elves, to fight close range, and as Gimli swung his axe, cutting and cleaving in every direction. All through this Legolas did not draw his swords but had taken many a step back from the raging Orcs to shoot them down, one by one, with his arrows that flew straight and true. When all threat was limp on the ground, the three companions gathered together by the side of the path to catch their breath. Aragorn solemnly whetted his blade and put it away, but Gimli was much more light of spirit.
"Ah! The blade of my axe has felt naught but my side in a long time, and it grew restless in my hands. It is a good feeling to finally sever the evil bodies of the Orcs again." But even when Legolas would lecture Gimli, a dire little dwarf, on his evil desire to kill, he was silent. Legolas' brow was creased, and he was thinking deeply about something of importance, for the look on his face held worry. Gimli's pleasure and satisfaction evaporated at seeing Legolas, who had still not put away his bow; in fact it seemed to be at the ready. "What is troubling you, my friend?"
"I know I had heard a dozen foot steps, and yet only ten came through the trees…" Legolas looked up, his bright blue eyes met with the brown ones of Aragorn.
Aragorn reached for his bow, head snapping in the direction of the trees, "That means…"
Suddenly, time seemed to move in slow motion as Legolas heard the snap of an arrow being released and the rush of air as it traveled to its target; he could hear its course on the wind. "Get down, Gimli!" he shouted lunging at the undersized creature who was unaware of his own danger, and shooting off an arrow at the trees where the enemy was located at the same time. Legolas was swift, but not quite swift enough, for as he was able to push Gimli out of harms way, he was not able to escape it himself, and the arrow struck him hard in the center of his chest, just inches away from his elvish heart.
Legolas gasped, the sudden pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and with every sharp intake of breath it worsened. Legolas was frozen; his eyes squinting in pain and mouth open, trying to breath in air that wasn't coming. His arms were rigid, and he did not notice when the bow of Galadriel dropped from his hand. Everything around him was dull and blurry, focusing and unfocusing, the pain in his chest was surreal, for the evil poison of Mordor had pierced the pure white soul of an elf; an immortal creature, wise and fair. He was dying with this horrible arrow in his bleeding chest. He looked down at himself and brought his hand up to touch the wet area around the wound, and for the first time, saw his own red-black blood. Sweat was trickling down his face and he could feel his body grow hot with fever. He swayed on his weakening legs and suddenly, Legolas thought he heard someone calling name, but it seemed dull and far away. He felt, as though it was not his own body, arms supporting his weight as his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. His light elven body was moved and laid flat against the forest floor, it sent a jolt through his form and the pain it caused was unbelievable. He cried out, and for a second his surroundings came in focus and he saw leaning over him two familiar faces, both very worried. Then suddenly there was a third face bent over his injured, poisoned form, and he knew for sure he was hallucinating for it was Gandalf, returned.
Legolas' mouth was open trying to breathe in deeply, but he only took in shallow breaths, despite his efforts. He could feel his whole body beginning to go numb and the knowledge of the arrow embedded deep in his chest was unreal and beginning to slip from his mind. He could feel his tense, rigid body begin to loosen as a darkness from far away lands began to grip his soul. But in his ancient, elvish mind he knew what the darkness was and fought it with all the might of his mind, body and soul. A sudden, sharp pain brought him back to semi-consciousness though, as the arrow was ripped from his chest, and Legolas felt some of the darkness trying to surround him exit with it. But almost all his strength was gone now, his heavy eyelids were dropping, and his breath was slowing, when he felt something unknown press into his bleeding wound, making him gasp in pain. He felt strong hands under his head and back supporting him into a semi- upright position. His breathing shallowed and with an effort he opened his eyes halfway, showing that their bright glow was now dimmed to almost nothing. In front of him he saw a blurry vision of two men, a third one he did not see - the one holding him up. One looked strangely like Gandalf the Grey and the small one was surely Gimli son of Gloin, his dear friend. They both looked worn and worried, but at that moment Legolas' strength was completely exhausted and his eyes closed, head falling forward, limp. The numbness was starting to overpower his mind and soon, in all his pain and desperation to stay alive, he went unconscious.
Legolas found himself lying on the ground. He blinked. The pain in his chest was gone and he felt good. Better than he had in a thousand years. But something was wrong, though he could not quite place it. The taste of blood that had been on his tongue was gone. He could feel the earth underneath him, firm and rough. He could smell the trees and distinctive stenches of sweat on his companions. And though he did not see them, knew they were there. He could see the light shining through the canopy of trees and it caused him to squint against its brightness. Suddenly he knew what was wrong. All was silent; he could not hear. He strained his ears, but no sound met them. He saw the boughs of the trees swaying, but he could not hear them speaking to him. He panicked and bolted upright, only to find himself in the dark as pitch caves and caverns of Moria. He shuddered. This place made him uneasy, but for some reason he was calm and did not find the sudden change of location strange.
He caught sight of the pale-yellow eyes of Smeagol behind him. Or Gollum he was called. Legolas curled his lip as he caught whiff of the rotting, dead flesh of dwarf and goblin. This was no place for an elf.
Suddenly he saw Frodo standing in front of him, fear in his innocent eyes, as he held the ring out to him. Legolas took a step back, surprised. His eyes widened as Frodo proceeded to walk toward him, ring out-held. He spoke, but Legolas could not hear him. Frodo spoke again, but this time Legolas read his lips, "Will you not take the ring, dear Legolas?"
Legolas shook his head and backed away, trying to escape the prodding hand and the temptation it held. But Frodo kept moving closer and closer to him. Suddenly, Legolas' foot found an edge. He looked behind him, but there was nothing; he had come to the edge of a cliff; he had reached an end. And suddenly, accidentally, Legolas stepped off. He found himself falling. Deeper and deeper into the darkness.
And then, there was Gandalf returned; right in front of him, shining white. He spoke and finally Legolas could hear him. "Do not be afraid young Elf. You are not as alone and in such dire position as you would think. You have Gimli, a stout friend; and Aragorn, a wise and loyal companion. As a bonus," Gandalf said with a smile, "I have returned."
Legolas was in disbelief, "But you are dead, taken by the Balrog…"
Gandalf chuckled, "Things are not as desperate as they seem. Be calm, be patient; all will be well in time, my friend." With that he was gone.
And then, suddenly, Legolas was on the shore of a beach. The ocean reached endlessly out in front of him. Without thinking he got into a boat anchored nearby and sailed out to sea, not at all disturbed by this unusual happening. Suddenly, the waves lapping against the gray boat all around him were a deep red in color, rather than the grayish green-blue. He was in the middle of a sea of blood! Legolas looked around him, terrified; mortified. Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulders and chest and looked down at himself to see that he was clad in silver armor. He found his bow in one and his elven white knife in the other; it was stained with red-black blood. He was standing on a great field, surrounded by wounded or dead enemies, crying out to him in hatred and pain. It was a terrible battlefield of blood and death. Suddenly he saw Gimli, son of Gloin, in front of him, dead; he looked down in shock at his hands to find them covered in the blood of his friend dwarf. Legolas cried out in horror and tried to wipe the blood off his fair skin, but no matter what he tried, it would not come off. And then, there was Frodo standing in front of him once again, but instead of the ring, he had a short sword. Legolas felt a sharp pain in his chest as Frodo stabbed him. And as he was falling to the ground, he heard Frodo say, "You are a traitor, dear Legolas." Then his vision blurred white around the edges and all went dark. But alas, he saw his fathers face before him, and heard him say, "Legolas, my son. You shall not fall into darkness; you shall continue on your quest and save your people."
"Yes, Father." Was all Legolas could say.
Author's Note: Ummm, yeah. Like usual, CC is very welcome and as I have said before: Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. ( R&R PLEASE!!! I hope you enjoy it, but if not just know that I wrote it on a whim when I suddenly felt like putting someone in pain. Hehe *sweatdrop* Don't ask, I'm a psycho.
1.1.1.2
1.1.1.3 The Pain of Friendship
CHAPTER 1
The fellowship had broken; the quest had failed. Or so they thought. The remainder of the fellowship of the one ring was on the path to doom, though they did not know it. Aragorn son of Arathorn, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas son of Thranduil were on a pathway that led through the forest Fangorn. They were still on their search of Merry and Pippin, but it seemed as though all hope was lost. When they met the Rohan riders and were told of the battle with the Orcs, the riders had told of no Hobbits in the piles of dead or elsewhere, and so the remaining fellowship set out once more, trying feebly to track their lost companions. But they had found a promising trail that led into the dark forest, and all hope was not lost.
Two of the fellowship were already lost forever to the clutches of death, and two more were alone, on their own dire mission. And still yet two more were in the hands of the enemy, painfully alive or dead, was not known. So it was only the last three, who were able to save their companions and keep the quest from falling to disaster. They were traveling slowly through the forest, being very careful every step of the way. Legolas, being a wood elf, was naturally fascinated by the forest. The giant trees were unlike any he had ever seen. They were ancient, so much that even he felt young next to them. The dark green aura of the forest around them was pure and the smell of moist earth and moss-covered wood was thick. Legolas' steps were light, leaving no print of his foot after. His head constantly snapped back and forth, eyes wide, trying to take in all of the magnificent scenery around him. He was completely captivated by its beauty and life; it was as though the ancient trees were somehow alive, and were trying to speak to him, to tell him their story. His joy and curiosity was unbearable; he wanted so to explore. Suddenly the three came upon a giant of trees, the father of all the forest wood brothers, the oldest of them all. Legolas could not contain himself, with a gasp at its elegant beauty he swiftly ran over to it, the grace of his elven legs carried him with the speed of the wind.
"Legolas, no!" Aragorn yelled out to him, voice ringing in the serene quiet of the forest. He knew that Legolas' curiosity had gotten the better of him. He was like a child among all the treasures of the world in this forest of magical, ancient trees. Legolas ignored him, as though he hadn't heard, and so Aragorn and Gimli looked at each other and then followed Legolas to the dark, green covered tree.
When they arrived next to him, they found Legolas was standing motionless in front of the Tree Father, rigid, with his hand out, palm flat against its moss covered bark. His bright blue eyes were closed and his mouth was firm. His fair face looked troubled, and then, slowly, he turned his head to one side, as though he was trying to hear something very far away.
"What is it Legolas?" Gimli was curious to know what troubled an elf such as Legolas.
"My wood brother is speaking to me. It is trying to tell me…" Legolas' pure musical voice, now very soft, trailed of, his brows creasing. Gimli grunted at this, disbelieving that a tree could speak at all, but he was ignored. Aragorn on the other hand, listened to Legolas' words, for he had heard the tales of the elves teaching their forests to speak with them long ago.
"What is it trying to tell you, Legolas?" he asked, taking a step closer to the soft looking tree in front of him, as though he, too, could hear its ancient voice.
"I do not know, I can not understand it; its voice is too soft. I think… I think it has forgotten how to speak, and has fallen back into the sleep of its forefathers. This one is ancient though; one of the first leaves upon the earth when forests were young, and my people were new." Legolas stopped and took a step toward the tree, touching his pointed elven ear against its strong trunk, to listen closer. His mouth tightened, but his eyes, now open, sparkled with a flame of pure bliss and interest, for he was in the forest surrounded by trees and life. After a minute though he brought his head up and shook it, he then started to sing softly a song in his own tongue, which Aragorn heard and translated for Gimli by singing it in the common. It was a song of praise to the forest and all the life it protects within its enclosure. It was a song of its beauty and life, ancient knowledge and wisdom, and the serene power of all the woods. Their patience with the world and creatures upon it was sung of as well in the intricately worded hymn, full of beauty. Gimli and Aragorn were captivated by Legolas' voice as he sang, their eyes never leaving his fair face, until his voice suddenly stopped, and his head turned sharply to the west where was sun was beginning to set, eyes wide. Aragorn and Gimli started, surprised at his sudden movement, then turned quickly to look in the direction Legolas was facing. Gimli, sensing something dark, brought out his well used battle- axe.
Aragorn just glanced at Legolas, "You have the keen senses of your kind; what is it that troubles you?"
"Orcs."
"What!" cried Gimli, anger rising in this throat, "How can there be more Orcs in Fangorn? The riders of Rohan were sure they had killed all of them." Gimli paused his outburst, "How many are there, Legolas?"
"From what I can hear, I count at least a dozen. Be on your guard, they are coming closer." Legolas swiftly pulled out his bow and notched an arrow in it, focusing on the sound of Orcs drawing near. Aragorn took a step forward to stand side by side with Legolas and pulled out his own bow, readying it for the battle to come. Gimli crouched low, so as to be a hard target for enemy archers, and patted his axe, more than ready to shear a few Orc necks.
And suddenly there they were, ten Orcs clear on the path that led through the forest. Three of them were down before they could even take a step, with the arrows of Legolas and Aragorn protruding from them. But those three were not missed and the other seven charged at the companions. It was an easy fight, as Aragorn threw aside his bow to unsheathe his sword, reforged by the elves, to fight close range, and as Gimli swung his axe, cutting and cleaving in every direction. All through this Legolas did not draw his swords but had taken many a step back from the raging Orcs to shoot them down, one by one, with his arrows that flew straight and true. When all threat was limp on the ground, the three companions gathered together by the side of the path to catch their breath. Aragorn solemnly whetted his blade and put it away, but Gimli was much more light of spirit.
"Ah! The blade of my axe has felt naught but my side in a long time, and it grew restless in my hands. It is a good feeling to finally sever the evil bodies of the Orcs again." But even when Legolas would lecture Gimli, a dire little dwarf, on his evil desire to kill, he was silent. Legolas' brow was creased, and he was thinking deeply about something of importance, for the look on his face held worry. Gimli's pleasure and satisfaction evaporated at seeing Legolas, who had still not put away his bow; in fact it seemed to be at the ready. "What is troubling you, my friend?"
"I know I had heard a dozen foot steps, and yet only ten came through the trees…" Legolas looked up, his bright blue eyes met with the brown ones of Aragorn.
Aragorn reached for his bow, head snapping in the direction of the trees, "That means…"
Suddenly, time seemed to move in slow motion as Legolas heard the snap of an arrow being released and the rush of air as it traveled to its target; he could hear its course on the wind. "Get down, Gimli!" he shouted lunging at the undersized creature who was unaware of his own danger, and shooting off an arrow at the trees where the enemy was located at the same time. Legolas was swift, but not quite swift enough, for as he was able to push Gimli out of harms way, he was not able to escape it himself, and the arrow struck him hard in the center of his chest, just inches away from his elvish heart.
Legolas gasped, the sudden pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and with every sharp intake of breath it worsened. Legolas was frozen; his eyes squinting in pain and mouth open, trying to breath in air that wasn't coming. His arms were rigid, and he did not notice when the bow of Galadriel dropped from his hand. Everything around him was dull and blurry, focusing and unfocusing, the pain in his chest was surreal, for the evil poison of Mordor had pierced the pure white soul of an elf; an immortal creature, wise and fair. He was dying with this horrible arrow in his bleeding chest. He looked down at himself and brought his hand up to touch the wet area around the wound, and for the first time, saw his own red-black blood. Sweat was trickling down his face and he could feel his body grow hot with fever. He swayed on his weakening legs and suddenly, Legolas thought he heard someone calling name, but it seemed dull and far away. He felt, as though it was not his own body, arms supporting his weight as his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. His light elven body was moved and laid flat against the forest floor, it sent a jolt through his form and the pain it caused was unbelievable. He cried out, and for a second his surroundings came in focus and he saw leaning over him two familiar faces, both very worried. Then suddenly there was a third face bent over his injured, poisoned form, and he knew for sure he was hallucinating for it was Gandalf, returned.
Legolas' mouth was open trying to breathe in deeply, but he only took in shallow breaths, despite his efforts. He could feel his whole body beginning to go numb and the knowledge of the arrow embedded deep in his chest was unreal and beginning to slip from his mind. He could feel his tense, rigid body begin to loosen as a darkness from far away lands began to grip his soul. But in his ancient, elvish mind he knew what the darkness was and fought it with all the might of his mind, body and soul. A sudden, sharp pain brought him back to semi-consciousness though, as the arrow was ripped from his chest, and Legolas felt some of the darkness trying to surround him exit with it. But almost all his strength was gone now, his heavy eyelids were dropping, and his breath was slowing, when he felt something unknown press into his bleeding wound, making him gasp in pain. He felt strong hands under his head and back supporting him into a semi- upright position. His breathing shallowed and with an effort he opened his eyes halfway, showing that their bright glow was now dimmed to almost nothing. In front of him he saw a blurry vision of two men, a third one he did not see - the one holding him up. One looked strangely like Gandalf the Grey and the small one was surely Gimli son of Gloin, his dear friend. They both looked worn and worried, but at that moment Legolas' strength was completely exhausted and his eyes closed, head falling forward, limp. The numbness was starting to overpower his mind and soon, in all his pain and desperation to stay alive, he went unconscious.
Legolas found himself lying on the ground. He blinked. The pain in his chest was gone and he felt good. Better than he had in a thousand years. But something was wrong, though he could not quite place it. The taste of blood that had been on his tongue was gone. He could feel the earth underneath him, firm and rough. He could smell the trees and distinctive stenches of sweat on his companions. And though he did not see them, knew they were there. He could see the light shining through the canopy of trees and it caused him to squint against its brightness. Suddenly he knew what was wrong. All was silent; he could not hear. He strained his ears, but no sound met them. He saw the boughs of the trees swaying, but he could not hear them speaking to him. He panicked and bolted upright, only to find himself in the dark as pitch caves and caverns of Moria. He shuddered. This place made him uneasy, but for some reason he was calm and did not find the sudden change of location strange.
He caught sight of the pale-yellow eyes of Smeagol behind him. Or Gollum he was called. Legolas curled his lip as he caught whiff of the rotting, dead flesh of dwarf and goblin. This was no place for an elf.
Suddenly he saw Frodo standing in front of him, fear in his innocent eyes, as he held the ring out to him. Legolas took a step back, surprised. His eyes widened as Frodo proceeded to walk toward him, ring out-held. He spoke, but Legolas could not hear him. Frodo spoke again, but this time Legolas read his lips, "Will you not take the ring, dear Legolas?"
Legolas shook his head and backed away, trying to escape the prodding hand and the temptation it held. But Frodo kept moving closer and closer to him. Suddenly, Legolas' foot found an edge. He looked behind him, but there was nothing; he had come to the edge of a cliff; he had reached an end. And suddenly, accidentally, Legolas stepped off. He found himself falling. Deeper and deeper into the darkness.
And then, there was Gandalf returned; right in front of him, shining white. He spoke and finally Legolas could hear him. "Do not be afraid young Elf. You are not as alone and in such dire position as you would think. You have Gimli, a stout friend; and Aragorn, a wise and loyal companion. As a bonus," Gandalf said with a smile, "I have returned."
Legolas was in disbelief, "But you are dead, taken by the Balrog…"
Gandalf chuckled, "Things are not as desperate as they seem. Be calm, be patient; all will be well in time, my friend." With that he was gone.
And then, suddenly, Legolas was on the shore of a beach. The ocean reached endlessly out in front of him. Without thinking he got into a boat anchored nearby and sailed out to sea, not at all disturbed by this unusual happening. Suddenly, the waves lapping against the gray boat all around him were a deep red in color, rather than the grayish green-blue. He was in the middle of a sea of blood! Legolas looked around him, terrified; mortified. Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulders and chest and looked down at himself to see that he was clad in silver armor. He found his bow in one and his elven white knife in the other; it was stained with red-black blood. He was standing on a great field, surrounded by wounded or dead enemies, crying out to him in hatred and pain. It was a terrible battlefield of blood and death. Suddenly he saw Gimli, son of Gloin, in front of him, dead; he looked down in shock at his hands to find them covered in the blood of his friend dwarf. Legolas cried out in horror and tried to wipe the blood off his fair skin, but no matter what he tried, it would not come off. And then, there was Frodo standing in front of him once again, but instead of the ring, he had a short sword. Legolas felt a sharp pain in his chest as Frodo stabbed him. And as he was falling to the ground, he heard Frodo say, "You are a traitor, dear Legolas." Then his vision blurred white around the edges and all went dark. But alas, he saw his fathers face before him, and heard him say, "Legolas, my son. You shall not fall into darkness; you shall continue on your quest and save your people."
"Yes, Father." Was all Legolas could say.
