Fear Itself

By

Freddie23

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by Tolkien.

Rating: K+

A/N: Sorry. This is pitifully, inexcusably late! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 10 – Reality

"Your Highness?"

Someone was shaking him, trying to force him into waking, but he felt cosy wrapped in the comforter of sleep. He was warm and felt safe for the first time in many long weeks.

The shaking came back again. If only he could get rid of that annoyance, he would be happy. He attempted to snuggle further down into his covers but immediately regretted the sudden action as pain shot down his arm and stabbed in his chest. He groaned softly and felt someone shake him again, this time with a little more kindness.

"Your Highness?" the voice called again. Formal. So not his father. He recognised the tones but couldn't quite place it through the befuddlement of sleep. He supposed it didn't matter anyway. He was happily asleep.

Once more, he groaned aloud and he heard someone shuffling close by then the sound of hurried footsteps across the room. Voices murmured nearby, urgent but muffled.

What was going on? Slowly, Legolas raised his head. It pounded fiercely. He was tired, more so than he remembered being before. Panic blossomed in his chest but he could not understand it at first. What had he to be panicked about? It reminded him of his time in the Mirkwood forest as a novice in the King's Guard, on patrol amongst enemies concealed behind darkness and the everyday life of the forest. The same uneasy feeling churned in his stomach. But all was quiet around him now and he was certain that he was not in the forest itself. Everything was too warm, too dry and there was no oppressive feeling surrounding him such as that he experienced in Mirkwood's cursed woodland.

Legolas was convinced, in fact, that he was inside the Palace, which made sense. He was draped over something hard and uncomfortable. A desk? His desk probably. His father told him he worked too hard. Had he fallen asleep at work again?

"Legolas?" someone shouted close to his ear and this time the Prince startled, so loud was the noise.

His eyes flew open at the shock and the light of the day flooding through the windows made his head pound all the more. A shudder rippled through him as he struggled to focus on the world around him; he felt enveloped by cold so deep he suspected it was possible for him to succumb to freezing weather although he knew the room was actually pleasantly warm. He tried to pull the covers up but found himself merely pulling at the tunic he wore.

"Are you alright?" the voice asked again, more softly now.

Legolas squinted towards the voice and finally managed to place who had been speaking to him. "Alassien?" he asked croakily.

"Thank the heavens!" exclaimed the guardsman, releasing a burst of nervous laughter. "You're awake."

"What is going on?" He tried to sit up, finding his body stiff from sleeping in this strange position. He had clearly been in the same position for some time, although he had no recognition of falling asleep. "What happened?" he asked, sensing that it was the correct question to ask given the look of panic etched on his friend's face.

"I have no idea." Alassien crouched down so that he could look Legolas in the eyes, slightly concerned that the Prince still appeared dazed. "The strangest thing…I had the oddest dream and woke slumped in the chair. I tried to wake you but you did not respond."

"Dream?" murmured the Prince, wishing the fog would clear in his head. Something jogged his memory. "I dreamed also."

"Of what?"

"A window." The moment he said the word, the memory returned full force and he sat bolt upright in his chair, ignoring the pounding the action started in his head. "We were trapped."

"Yes!" Alassien said, leaping to his feet. "There was something here. We tried to escape. We went outside, trembling in fear, and tried to reach the King but we ended up walking round and round in circles. Then we became trapped within this very room and we could not escape it."

Legolas looked around. It was daylight now. The door stood open, the guards missing, presumably gone in search of aid following Alassien's loud concerns over his prince. All the threat he had felt earlier – or in his dream; reality was so confused right then he had a hard time telling what was real and what was a dream - had gone and the Palace felt normal once more. He remembered the pain in his arm and flinched instinctively, expecting to feel it once more. He stretched out the offending limb out before him, shoving his sleeve up. There was not a scratch.

"How…?" He didn't understand. He knew what he had experienced was real. Now that the fog had cleared, he remembered all. He and Alassien wandering in circles, lost within the same corridor of Mirkwood's great Palace, the threatening presence that had surrounded them both, being trapped within this very office, his hand smashing through the pane of glass. And yet there it sat, perfect and untouched within the window.

"I don't know," Alassien answered unnecessarily.

Before they could continue, the guards reappeared with a healer in tow, apparently summoned by the concerned Alassien. Legolas jumped at the noise and looked to his friend to find him equally startled. They were both jumpy. In a moment, they found themselves surrounded by guards and healers, each of them fussing over their Prince. Legolas fought to keep some distance from them. Now that his dream – or rather nightmare – had returned to him, he felt claustrophobic trapped within his office and longed to be outside in the fresh air.

He assured them that he was fine, which he was. The pain in his arm lingered as a memory only and the pounding in his head had subsided. However, they were still fussing over him up until the moment Legolas stood from his seat, pushed them aside with his thanks and left before they could comment further.

OIOI

"The whole of the kingdom has gone mad," declared Beriogelir firmly as he paced before Legolas' window.

"I cannot argue with that," sighed the Prince, emerging dressed from the bathroom and drying his hair on a towel.

"Seven reports so far this morning about strange behaviour, fighting; two missing people; countless complaints about strange noises disturbing the night. People are losing their minds!" The guard turned to his prince with an apologetic look on his face, knowing that it was not Legolas' fault this was happening. "How much longer will this go on?"

"I do not know." Legolas could only answer honestly and the truth was he knew nothing more than his faithful bodyguard.

"Well, soon enough we are going to run out of guardsmen. Four did not show up this morning. We are stretched thin." Legolas opened his mouth to speak but, anticipating what was coming, the personal bodyguard smiled and continued, "My place is protecting you."

Legolas was struck once more at how fortunate he was to be surrounded by this type of loyalty. He knew it was not always a given, that some kingdoms could not boast such love of their royals. He could not imagine always worrying whether the person supposed to be watching his back was actually sticking a knife in it as he had read about in the books on Elven and Human history. Beriogelir, Alassien, and countless others, would lay their lives down for him and, although he did not necessary encourage such blind loyalty, he could not fault them.

"Well," he started but could not finish as the door slammed open with such force that it dislodge a small cloud of dust from the brickwork of the walls. "Father."

"Out!" snarled the king to Beriogelir, who had snapped to attention as an automatic response.

The guard bowed formally and marched smartly from the room, recognising that the King was in a bad enough mood that he should not be challenged.

"What were you thinking?!"

Throwing his towel of the back of a chair, Legolas turned to face his father with a look of genuine innocence. "What are you talking about?" he asked for clarification.

"You know what!" Thranduil stalked towards him and stood towering over his son as he could always do when in such a thunderous mood. "You were attacked."

"Oh. Yes. Alassien and I."

"And you didn't think to inform me?"

"We are fine. It was nothing. No damage done," smiled Legolas, hoping to placate his father.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Thranduil ground out, "Then you are not hurt?"

"No." Even as Legolas said this, he was reminded of the prickly pain running up and down his arm, spreading to his chest, he remembered the window, the shattered glass. Cautiously, he flexed his fingers and felt a brief thrill of pain as he did so. It was hard to believe that in his office stood the age-old glass window still intact with not a mark on it. And his hand, as unmarked as ever. Impossible and yet true.

"Legolas!" The Prince snapped to attention at the sound of his name being impatiently barked. He realised he had heard nothing the King had said and shook his head briefing in a hope the action would clear it. Thranduil eyed him warily and then continued at his regular volume. "I heard there were healers summoned."

"Precaution," Legolas shrugged, fisting his hand behind his back as though afraid there was evidence on it that might contradict him.

Thranduil stared at his son for a long moment, searching for proof of the lie he suspected but, although he saw deep concern in the Prince's eyes and a hint of deception, he feared he would never force Legolas to admit to it. "Very well," sighed Thranduil in defeat. He would not push his son too far. Not over this small matter.

"Any word from the patrols sent out?" asked the Prince, attempting nonchalance but sounding increasingly desperate for answers and equally anxious to change the subject from himself. How he would have loved for Thranduil to tell him that Radagast had been found and that the solutions to all their problems lay just around the corner. If only. However, the downtrodden look on his father's face told him all he needed to know. The Brown Wizard was still missing, nothing had been heard from the patrol sent out and chances were that they had run into trouble themselves.

"Nothing," Thranduil spoke aloud Legolas' suspicions.

"When should we start to worry?"

Sinking down to sit on Legolas' bed, the King sighed heavily. "I started worrying the day they left and I have not stopped yet." Thranduil smiled up at his son, seeing the worry marring Legolas' features. "But that is the way of Wizards," he attempted to lighten the mood, although it fell flat even to his own ears. "Radagast will come soon, I do not doubt it."

"I hope so." Truthfully, Legolas did not 'know the way of Wizards' as Thranduil did. Although it was well known amongst the Elves of Mirkwood that Radagast the Brown had come to live under the boughs of the ancient forest, in truth, he had very little contact with the Elvish population of his chosen home. There were of course, rumours. Elves had seen him passing by, nattering to some animal tucked amongst the folds of his brown robes, had seen the point of his hat bobbing behind some stand of bushes. But Legolas could not recall him ever coming to the Palace and he knew of no great alliance between his father and the Brown Wizard.

"Perhaps we should…"

Thranduil put his hand up, stopping Legolas from voicing the thought. "I know what you would say," he cut in. "And I will not do it."

"You do not know…" Legolas sighed, silently cursing his father's stubborn streak. "I was going to suggest that Radagast is not the only Wizard…"

"We have discussed this."

"But…"

"I will not go to the White Council," snapped Thranduil, a flash of unprecedented anger taking over him, blazing bright in his eyes as he leapt up and turned on his son. "The Brown Wizard will come to our aid. He must. He is part of this world. Besides, Saruman has no time for Radagast and ever does the Brown attempt to distance himself from the White."

Legolas was surprised by this. What little he knew of the White Council, Legolas understood that the balance of power was vastly tilted in Saruman's favour, but he assumed this was a joint decision. After all, Gandalf did not like the politics of the Council and Radagast preferred the company of the Woods to a life in the Council. Of the other two Wizards, Legolas knew nothing and they seemed of little consequence to matters.

How Thranduil had come to hear of division in this ancient collective of great and powerful minds, Legolas could not fathom. Did Mirkwood's influence really extend as far as the tower of Orthanc? The thought frightened the Prince for some reason.

"Yes," the king murmured almost to himself as he cast his gaze towards the window. "The White Council is divided at times. There is fracture in the world, Legolas."

"Between the brethren of the Wizards?"

"Indeed."

"Why?"

Thranduil shrugged. "Who can say? Wizards are inscrutable. One only has to think on Gandalf, who comes rarely to these lands now, and Radagast who seems to have taken up residence amongst our people. Both are impossible to pin down, impossible to really know." Thranduil shook his head once and looked back to his son, his face plastered with a calmer expression now. "None of this is our concern. The ways of the Wizards are beyond us. Radagast will come to our aid. I know he will. Once we find him."

"And in the meantime…"

"I know." Thranduil turned and headed towards the door.

"Father," called the Prince, stepping towards the King. "I have been sifting through the records of the healer from the Human village. The have proved quite useful."

"Put it in a report and give it to me as soon as possible."

This was hardly what Legolas had been expecting; a little more excitement, pride in having found something useful. But Thranduil seemed unconcerned as he stepped out the door and closed it gently behind him.

OIOI

Six days now they had been wandering, lost. Each one was an experienced soldier, having traversed much of the forest of Mirkwood during their collective careers. Only the King himself could boast of knowing the Forest better. And yet, the impossible seemed to have happened; they were lost.

The Mirkwood Forest was tricky. It could trip up the unwary traveller, disorient and bamboozle as few other places in the World could. But the Elves had grown accustomed to its wiles over the centuries that they had settled there. They understood it, knew to ignore the subtle attempts to throw them off course, to divert them from the sanctuary of the Palace Stronghold. There had never been an incident of a Mirkwood soldier killed directly by the Forest; although foreign travellers to the strange land were sometimes found dead amongst the tree roots or boughs.

Hence, the Elves were close to despair. They had supplies still with them – Thranduil had insisted on them being fully stocked before setting off – and each still carried a weapon. They were confident that they could survive for a good long time in the Forest if necessary. For even at its worst Mirkwood was a good provider; food and water were readily available and the skill of the Elves was exceptional.

However, the thought of being permanently trapped, wandering eternally amongst the trees, was not an appealing one and each of the five soldiers longed to be back within the relative safety of the Palace walls.

Their mission should have been simple: Thranduil had ordered them to search out Radagast. They had at least something to go on, rumours as to where the Wizard had set up his home. It should have been fairly simple. There were a few places they could check. Naturally, given everything that had been happening of late, the guards had been cautious about where they were going, cautious of all around them. And yet, the Forest had betrayed them.

They had remained on the main path for some way and then used only paths known to them, fearful of this very thing happening. But even that had not been enough. They had found themselves experiencing exactly what they warned visitors about.

They were lost. And worse, they seemed unable to find their way back to the main path.

How long they had been wandering the Forest, they were uncertain of. It felt like days, although it could just have easily been mere hours. The sun was obscured by the trees and the animals of the Forest gave no indication whether they were nocturnal or not. Panic was close to setting in. They had all but abandoned their mission by now, deciding that finding their way back to somewhere familiar before the Forest turned on them was more important.

So when they stumbled upon civilisation, which seemed to appear through the trees out of nowhere, they were more than a little surprised. A small village. Immediately, they were on the alert. They had all been at the Human village where the massacre had occurred; they had seen the devastation. It was not surprising that they were anxious.

They approached as they would an Orc den; with caution and care, weapons drawn and senses attuned to the surrounding area.

Their leader, Valpanbarion, hand-picked by Thranduil himself to lead this most perilous mission, guided them in, but they needn't have worried. Although they did not know of this place, it was not on any map they had studied, it became immediately obvious that nothing ominous was going on here. The place was buzzing with activity, just as it should be on any day. It was Human-inhabited, as most of the places outside of the Stronghold were, but the Elven soldiers were greeted with warm smiles and unprecedented offers of food and accommodation.

"We are seeking a Wizard," explained Valpanbarion as he stood now before the anxious-looking Mayor, to whom he had been guided towards by the unusually helpful village-folk.

The portly man leaned back in his seat, ignoring the creaking noise the old wood made as he did so, and laughed heartily. "Wizard! No Wizards around here," he assured the Elves stood before him waiting expectantly.

"The King Thranduil suspects that he visits often this part of the Forest," lied the Elven guard, knowing that even on the perimeter of the King's domain, Thranduil's name held weight. Indeed, upon hearing the name spoken, the Mayor squirmed in his chair and began fiddling with a jewelled letter-opener on his desk. Seeing his chance, the Elf continued pressing for answers to his questions, for he suspected that something was not right in this town despite its seeming innocence, "His name is Radagast the Brown; he lives right here in the forest, possibly he may have had contact with a place like this."

"No," the Mayor shook his head vehemently. "No Wizards around these parts." He plastered a smile upon his chubby face and stared squarely at the five Elves stood in front of his desk.

They knew he was lying. It was written all over his face, the deception. Valpanbarion stared intently at him, knowing fully well the effect a good stare could have on the more vulnerable Human races. Indeed, the Mayor squirmed all the more, the creaking increasing with his movements.

"Well," he slammed his hands down on the table and rose awkwardly from his seat, avoiding the gazes of his unexpected visitors. "Time for you to leave. We have no contact with the Elves of Mirkwood and for good reason. It was the decision long ago of our ancestors when we first settled here; kindly respect that."

The lead guardsman cocked his head to one side and observed the sweating Human. "What is the matter?" he asked, hoping the man could be easily broken.

"Whatever do you mean?" he chuckled nervously, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "Nothing is the matter."

"You are nervous."

Laughing again, the man sputtered out the excuse, "There are Elves in my office. Who wouldn't be nervous?"

"The innocent. What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? Nothing. I am hiding nothing." His manner changed as he pointed one chubby finger in their direction with absolutely no conviction, "Now, you cannot come in here and insult me… Leave now."

"This village is under the watchful peace kept by King Thranduil, our Lord and commander, and we shall stay as long as we please," warned the Elf, taking a threatening step closer that left the Mayor in doubt he was in control. "Tell me what is going on here."

"Nothing." Such lack of honesty would have been laughable had the Elves not been so concerned. Almost as one, they drew their weapons and stood to attention, waiting for whatever might happen to actually occur.

"You are lying to me." The Elven leader narrowed his eyes, hoping the look might convince the man that this was no joke, that he was in real trouble here. "You know something about what is happening in the Forest, don't you?"

"What? Nonsense."

"Another lie. What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" By now, the Mayor's face had turned an unhealthy shade of red and he was trembling openly, his chubby fingers clutching at the edge of the desk so tight they were turning white. Even as he declared his ignorance, his eyes darted to the corner, where there stood a large wooden wardrobe.

"Over here?" asked the Elf, taking a step towards the wardrobe to investigate.

"No, don't!" snapped the Mayor, leaping towards the wardrobe and knocking his chair to the floor in the process. He threw himself in front of the piece of furniture to prevent the Elf getting too close. The others in the Elven party moved forward their weapons up and ready to defend each other.

However, their leader held up his hand to stop them. "Wait. What are you hiding from us?"

"Please don't."

"Stand aside."

"I can't."

The Elf took the Man's arm but found himself being forcefully shoved aside. "Stand aside," he commanded, immediately regaining his footing. He was surprised by the man's actions, although saw them now as coming out of fear rather than genuine malice. The Mayor of this small village, so obviously within King Thranduil's jurisdiction, was facing off with five fully armed Elves stood towering in his office. Something must have him utterly terrified.

"Whatever is wrong, we can help," the commander said falsely but hoping to sound firm to the frightened Mayor.

Shaking his head so that his lank hair fell around his shoulders, the man muttered something under his breath then straightened his posture. "You cannot. Leave. Now. Please."

What more could they really do if the man did not want their help? Although they were in Mirkwood, it was not their place to interfere in the running of these outlying villages. The people beyond this room had been kind and helpful and provided them with directions back to the main road, even though they had been embarrassed to have to ask for the help. They knew where they were going now and they also knew their mission and it was not to deal with this strange Mayor, even though he may be in trouble.

"Very well. We will leave. But remember that the King is always at the disposal of the people of Mirkwood, no matter their origins. Come to the Palace and you will received aid."

"Thank you," the man stuttered, his hands still splayed before the wardrobe protectively.

The Elves withdrew then, leaving as quietly as they had come. Only when he saw them pass by his window, did the Mayor relax. He slumped against his desk, raking his fingers through his hair.

"You did well," whispered the familiar voice. He winced at the sound. "The Elves can no longer interfere."

"Please let us go."

There was a deep silence and the Mayor strained to listen, afraid of what he feared, that he had not been left alone as he wished. Indeed almost a full minute later, a low chuckle reverberated through the room. He shuddered.

"Sit down."

He did as ordered, his body moving almost against his will and he found himself sitting down hard in his chair. He wanted to cry. Emotion swept over him. He could not even remember now how all this had happened. He couldn't remember a time before this…thing had come to his village. At one time, he thought he had enjoyed his role as Mayor, a small role considering it was such a small place. But he had liked it. But then the presence had come amongst them and it had stolen away his joy, his will to live. Had he been able to, he thought that he would lie down on his bed, close his eyes and never awake. Death would be better than this.

The Mayor had not imagined what might happen when he had invited the man to stay amongst them. He had seen kind enough. A little unusual, perhaps, but that was no reason to condemn a man. With his good looks, strong frame and mild temperament, he was welcomed by the people of the village. It had only been a couple of days before things had started to change.

It had happened quickly. People became scared for no particular reason and the man had come to the Mayor and then he had found himself trapped, for this was no ordinary man. It was a demon, ancient and all-powerful.

There was no escaping this demon, the Mayor knew. His people were oblivious for the time being. They knew something was wrong but they didn't know what, didn't know how deep in their loyal leader was. If they did, then panic would be rife. He wanted to avoid that, so he had gone along with the strange man, even when it became obvious that they were all doomed.

The Elves coming had surprised him. No one could have expected it, although the demon did not seem surprised. The order had been calm and simple. Send them away.

How he would have loved to have disobeyed. He had had no contact with the Elves in the past but he would have taken any help offered right then. but he could not. The demon stood in the corner the entire time, staring, waiting for them to leave. And they had, and all hopes were dashed.

The Mayor did not know how he knew, but he was certain that now the end had come. His people were lost.

OIOI

Radagast stood staring out the small window of his home. There was only a small gap through which he could see. Most of the window had been boarded up. He had been loath to do it. Shutting out nature, even the distorted, corrupted nature of Mirkwood, was against his ethics. He was a creature of the earth, unlike his fellow Wizards who thought him whimsical and fey. To shut the world out went against everything he believed in. But the Brown Wizard was afraid. The Forest had changed. Something else was out there besides the evils he had grown accustomed to since taking up residence. It was something dark and terrible, worse than anything he had encountered on Arda before.

The Wizard did not know what it was, this new feeling in Mirkwood. If only he did. If only he could stop it. But he feared it was already too late.

To Be Continued…