The Elf Who Spoke to Stone

by Posher10

Mirkwood fell. Thranduil died. And Legolas took refuge in a cave, where no one thought to look. For six years, he did not go outside. He ate the creatures that lived there. And he started to hear voices. At first, he thought that he was going insane. But then he realized...no, he could hear... speak to the stone. When Estel finds him, he must reclaim his lost kingdom. COMPANION TFC

1. Prologue

He lives in a world of dark, silent, stillness. The stone creaks like old, weathered wood and water flows like rain—in steady droplets pouring from the sky. It is always cold, the kind of frigid heaviness that sticks like a foul humidity to his skin but does not bring sweat. The muteness is oppressive and challenging, as if it dares him to make the slight noise. His breathing is quieter than the small whispers of air he sometimes feel, somehow making it through the twisted passages to give him a solemn, subtle reminder of his old life. He noticed some time ago that his eyes have paled and a milky white sheen seems to cover them, eerily reminiscent of a corpse's. But that makes sense, he supposed. His was dead to all who knew him, even if it was just in name.

He keeps to the left side of the caves as he stalked, hands taut around the brittle bow, gaze moving in circles and figure-eights, flicking from left to right like the flame of a torch. He kept his arms tight to his torso, never letting them grace the walls of the cavern. Sliding into a new unhewn corridor of natural stone, he paused for a moment, listening at the eternal "drip-dripping" of the water, and his lips twitched. Twitched. That's all they ever do anymore. (He doesn't smile.) He loved that sound, because, in his times of sorrow, He can pretend that the very cave mourns for him.