Disclaimer: None of these characters are ours. We stole them. Shamelessly. All of them.
A/N: Well, everybody, this chapter is the result of a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (and minds tortured by too much homework and studying and essays and…well, all that good stuff). As always, Waves is a genius and, at the risk of sounding prideful, I will even remark that I am remarkably satisfied and amazed at the amount of words (mostly good) I managed to crank out in one sitting. *brushes off shoulders* Yep. I'm so proud of my huge humility.
WARNING: This chapter is a little dark. Yes, I know we killed people in the last one. This one involves a very dark nightmare scene where we reference something that took place in the History of Middle Earth: the "creation" of Orcs. Waves did a great job at keeping it from being graphic, but just to warn you, it may be a little disturbing.
Eavis, I'm sorry about Loki. He refused to behave. If he doesn't promise to be good by the end of this story, I will go write a Thor fic where he does and where everything (sort of) ends happily ever after.
Enjoy.
Chapter 14: Loyalties
With his jaw a grim line of determination, Legolas Thranduilion dragged himself the last few inches until he was resting atop the cliff, and there it was—the last golden arrow. His muscles were aching, his breath coming in short bursts. Normally the elf could endure great physical stress without becoming short of breath, but the shadow in the back of his mind had pressed his efforts to the near limit. This final challenge had consisted of many difficult obstacles and trick shots that had required intense concentration and effort. In short, the elf was in a great hurry, and the challenge had taxed even his extensive elven physical abilities.
He had heard the screams and noticed movement on the other bank, but some strange fog had floated between him and the other shore, obscuring his companions from view. The elven cord had snapped near the middle (or had possibly been severed by some sharp object), so there was no chance of using it to get back across to help the girls if need be. No, Legolas had decided grimly. There was naught to do but find the last golden arrow and finish this perilous game as soon as possible. Something about this competition had changed for the worse, and he had no desire to be caught by surprise.
Legolas stood shakily and started forward for the arrow resting on a crystalline pedestal in the center of the cliff, which jutted up from the mountain like a plateau. Waterfalls plummeted down one side, a cascade of rainbows and white foam that made the tree spattered rock face he'd climbed look like child's play.
Suddenly another arrow materialized from beyond the edge of the cliff, so suddenly that, had he not been blessed with an elf's speed and alertness, our hero might have met a tragic fate and turned into sparkles right then and there. Legolas was, however, able to spin out of the way, so that only a few strands of his silvery blond hair suffered any damage. He continued the diving motion until he made it behind a convenient rock that obscured him from the general direction of his attacker. The elf risked a look at the scene before him, peeking out cautiously from his cover.
A figure dressed in black leather flipped onto the flat plateau—and there was fury in Hawkeye's cold gaze. Deadly fury. For a moment, Legolas simply stared. While he was under no illusions concerning the man's feelings toward the elfkind, he would never have anticipated this sort of…savagery. In an instant he understood what was taking place on the shores across the water, and a fear began growing in his mind, a fear not for himself but for the women he had left behind on the other side of the river. Suddenly the elf sprang over the rock to confront the man directly.
"Stop!" he exclaimed as the man nocked an arrow on his string and drew back. "Why are you doing this?"
"Step back from the arrow, elf," Hawkeye snarled. "I know what you and your friends have been planning for us, and I know you intentionally tried to kill me. We know the truth now, and we're not going to let you get away with any of it."
"I didn't try to kill you," Legolas protested.
"A likely story."
He fired his arrow while he was speaking in attempt to distract the elf, but Legolas dived forwards out of its path and tried to drag the other man's bow away from him as he completed the roll. Hawkeye responded by elbowing him in the face. A brief scuffle followed, and it was a very close match, for Hawkeye was well trained in the martial arts, and Legolas had hundreds of years of experience in fighting any number of things in hand to hand combat. They broke off after a few minutes, both panting, arrows and bows cast aside as they circled each other in a fighter's crouch with bruises forming on faces, necks, and arms.
"Where are your friends?" Legolas asked, wiping blood from his lip (something he had never really had to do in previous battles because nothing had ever really punched his face like that until today). "And what have they done to Susan and Merida?"
Spitting out a broken tooth, Hawkeye grimaced and shook his head. "Hopefully stopped 'em and taken their arrows. We know about the real rules, you know. How you have to have all five to win. How very convenient your elf lord left out the part about us having to kill each other as the final challenge. Thought he'd keep only you three in on that little secret, did he?"
Legolas' expression was so convincingly startled that Hawkeye checked himself and hesitated. "He did tell you, right"
"I—" Legolas began, but suddenly the ground began to move under their feet—a quake that made the world tilt to one side and then the other and back again. Both the competitors stared in horror as the golden arrow rolled off the pedestal and toward the edge of the cliff. Hawkeye dove for it, but the quake had unbalanced him, and so abruptly that Legolas had barely enough time to grab a tree root before he tumbled off the cliff. As the elf looked back, he caught sight of Hawkeye as he had rolled off the edge—and the last golden arrow with him.
"No!" Legolas shouted as he released his anchor, plunging toward the edge as the cliff buckled again. There were hands gripping the cliff's rim, which was crumbling—Hawkeye fell…
…and Legolas was there, catching hold of his hands and dragging him upwards with as much strength as he could muster while fighting against the bucking surroundings.
"The arrow!" Hawkeye exclaimed, looking down to where the golden prize rested on a ledge. One more quake and it would be shaken loose of the cliff-side, and plummet down, down into the roiling water below. Legolas shook his head, the silvery blond hair emphasizing the motion.
"Leave it! It is not worth your life!"
He dragged the man upward until Hawkeye could get a grip on the side of the plateau and lift himself over the edge. The earth heaved upwards, and the last golden arrow fell, just as the man reached safety.
And then all was still.
Hawkeye sat at the edge, staring down in alarm as the slender shaft sent a little ripple spreading on the water's surface before it disappeared beneath the dark façade. Then he looked over at Legolas, who was still breathing hard but recovering quickly as he searched around for his bow.
"You saved my life," he said quietly. The elf looked up and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why would you have saved my life if you'd only wanted the arrow?" He asked the last question more to himself than the confused elf. Hawkeye shook his head as if to clear it from the tangles of doubt, wiping the palms of his hands over his face.
"Where did you hear about these new rules?" Legolas asked a little warily as he retrieved his bow. Hawkeye sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Taking this as a good sign, the elf slung his weapon over his shoulder and picked up Hawkeye's bow, handing it to the man as he explained.
"From Loki—an old enemy of mine. I should have known better than to trust him." He swore violently. "I should have known better. He was obviously lying. But I've never known him to tell us something if there isn't some truth behind it even if it is hidden behind a maze of lies. Natasha is better at figuring out these things. He probably did change the rules to the game so we do need all five arrows, and if that one is truly gold and that water is as deep as it appears to be…"
"You don't want to touch the water," the elf warned. "It will put you under a spell and make you sleep for days, that is, if you do not drown first."
Hawkeye swore again. "Thanks for the advice. Now I know why I decided to use your method of transportation over here… D—n you, Loki."
Legolas took a deep breath. "This Loki…he told you that you must kill me and my companions? For what purpose?"
"I have no idea. Probably spite. We have some…unresolved issues." Hawkeye's face drained of color. "Oh d—n. Katniss. She's been itching to kill someone all this time—thinks she's back in those Hunger Games or whatever they are. We gotta go. She'll kill Merida and Susan both if we don't get back in time to stop her, if she hasn't done so already."
"And Loki?" Legolas asked. "How are we to stop him?"
"Don't know," Hawkeye replied, frowning momentarily. "We'll think of something, but if we don't have all the arrows—"
Suddenly the ground shifted again, and in the commotion, something happened that proved one of the downfalls of the glitches that can occur when one has technological instead of purely traditional equipment: one of Hawkeye's exploding arrows that had been activated accidentally by their scuffle and subsequently lost in the bushes during the quake went off.
That is to say, a roaring filled the air around them, a searing heat stabbed at their lungs and eyes and skin. A blast with the strength of a cave troll knocked them both off balance, but inopportunely, it knocked Legolas right over the edge of the cliff. He scrabbled at the brink as he went over, could feel the ground trying to shake itself out from under his grasp. He saw Hawkeye peering over the edge hidden partially by the smoke and flying debris, but he was too far down—too far, and the ground was still moving.
"Stop Katniss!" Legolas shouted. His bow and quiver (wrenched free from the force of the explosion and further propelled from the aftershock) went hurtling past him into the rushing water below. "Find them and tell them the truth about this Loki's lies before someone else dies!"
Hawkeye was rapidly working to untwist the elven rope he'd brought with him, but it was too late. The earth crumpled out from Legolas' fingers, and with a little sigh of regret, he withdrew and fell to meet the dark waters, wondering if it would be a dark path or one filled with pleasant dreams he must now take to the Undying Lands. But putting fears of death aside, the elf gracefully twisted around into a diving position and hoped the water would be deep enough.
There was blackness all around him as he fell into the dark waters of the Ringed Isle. They swallowed him up and drew him under until he was drowning in their depths as he searched and found the fifth golden arrow. And then he was up—up into the sweet air once more, swimming fiercely for the shore before the darkness engulfed him, and then he was dragging himself onto the rocks and holding onto something slippery and slender. His quiver brushed against his leg, and he put the golden arrow in with the others and clutched it to his chest. His bow. Where was his bow? The elf shivered from his recent dunking in the cold waters. He would soon be asleep.
The blackness was closing in on him, like grasping fingers pulling the life from his eyes, sucking the air from his lungs. And then, abruptly, there was light. A green light, falling on him from the left. At first it seemed to be the light filtering through the trees of the Mirkwood on a quiet summer's day, but there was a dangerous hue to the color, and when Legolas blinked he saw that the source of the light was a man.
He was tall, with neat dark hair and a slender, pale face. His hands were artistic and smooth, and his long fingers were wrapped around a golden staff with a blue, glowing orb at one end. It was from his eyes and cloak that the green light was coming—they were glowing, ebbing a green inky luminescence that was as vivid as poison. When he reached the elf, he squatted down, placing a warm hand on the elf's brow. Legolas tensed at the contact, an instinct warning him this was a devious man, but he had no strength to resist.
"Greetings, Legolas," said Loki with a respectful little smile. "I am honored to finally meet you."
"You…" Legolas stirred his foggy mind with a teaspoon of memory and found the name he was looking for. "You're Loki."
The figure bowed his head (was that a hint of mockery in his movements?) and he smiled again. "At your service, dear prince."
Legolas smiled at this, coughing up a little of the enchanted water. "You seek to fool me with a pleasant demeanor and gentle words. It will not work. I have already spoken with Hawkeye, and I know you for the liar you are."
"Liar?" Loki's face twisted for a moment, and he stood as if he'd been struck. "Well—I suppose you could say that. But then, how anxious is Hawkeye to gain your trust? He still holds a grudge for the arrow that nearly killed him in the arena, and trust me, my friend, he does not easily forgive."
"He might when there is a greater evil at large," said the elf quietly, rolling over on his side in an attempt to rise. For some reason he was not dreaming as he should have been after the dunk in the river. Perhaps this was not the river like that of his homeland.
Loki paused, raised an eyebrow, put a hand to his chest. "Oh—you mean me? Here I come all this way to assist you—to inform you of the lies of your precious Master Elrond—and you spit on my goodwill. I expected better from you."
"Master Elrond would not lie," murmured Legolas, and then felt himself swaying on his knees once he had pushed himself off of the ground. His eyes were growing tired again. Maybe this was the enchanted River. But why had he not fallen asleep yet?
"You have not long to decide," said Loki quietly, watching him with those cat-like eyes. "The dark waters are filled with sleep, and you have already drunk much of their sweetness. I have held it at bay for a bit, but you will fall into dark dreams unless…" he leaned down and looked Legolas right in the eye, "Unless you join me. Convince Hawkeye and the others that I am for them, not against them. Convince them you have joined me and will not harm them, and then we will return to your world once the arrows have been gathered together and taken to your starting place, and together, we shall return to deal with the treachery of Master Elrond. Even he is not above lying to his own kind if it suits his own sick pleasure, and I assure you it does. If you help me, we can overpower him without bloodshed and then… No more killing. No more fighting. We will have peace."
"Why?" Legolas asked, seeking clarity and growing weary of the green light—why couldn't there be sunlight again? "Why would you do this? Why would you spread these lies? What have my people done to you?"
Sighing, Loki stood and turned aside. His face had lost its eerie charming quality, his voice was suddenly normal. "I will be honest with you, Legolas, because I need your help. I was not sure of your involvement earlier, but it seems as though he has mislead you as well."
Legolas gestured drunkenly for him to go on (though it was getting hard to hear). He bowed his head wearily. It was getting so hard to hold it up.
"In my own world, I am a criminal," Loki began. "In all others, I am hunted by creatures known as the Chitauri. We were once allies, but they believe I betrayed them, and so now they hunt me without ceasing."
"Did you betray them?"
"Astonishingly no," the god answered. "Their armies failed me." He looked up toward the sky (though all that was above them was blackness now) and added, "Even now, they search. I am not safe in this land, and only when I have returned to Asgard with my brother will I be free from their grasp."
"Why did you leave this Asgard?" Legolas wondered.
"I didn't leave!" Loki snapped, whirling. His eyes were filled with a fear that was very real indeed. "I was brought! By those little people who took my brother—by the command of the elf-lord who even now sits watching, wondering what to do about Loki who is ruining his little game. I know you cannot believe malice of him, but I ask you, is it a kind act to place so many people, to place women and children in danger all for a competition to answer some foolish question about archery?"
"No," said Legolas quietly. "Perhaps it was not a kind act. But that still gives you no right to change —"
"I changed nothing!" Loki shouted, and then checked himself and amended, "That was a lie. My apologies. I did change a few items worth mentioning, but they were only to prove the futility of this game and the danger Lord Elrond has placed you in, and to convince you to help me end this so that I may return to my world."
"Where you will be imprisoned," Legolas reminded him.
In the moment of silence that followed, Loki's eyes dimmed and he looked down. "Better in prison than dead which is what I will be if we return from this game and let Elrond live so that he can kill me and the others, my own brother among them, for his own satisfaction."
Legolas was almost gone, the magic to keep him conscious nearly spent, but when Loki looked at him one last time, pleading with his eyes, begging for his friendship and help in ending things, ending the slaughter, he knew that even if this was the truth, he could not join this man.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. As the darkness swallowed him up, and the dreams began whirling around his head, he saw Loki's face twist into a look of derision and misery. The sharp point of Loki's scepter touched his chest, sending a blue fire rippling towards the elf's eyes. The last words he heard were, "Very well then. But do not forget that I gave you this chance. Sweet dreams."
Legolas did not feel himself fall, but he knew that he was lying on his side now because his eyes told him so. His vision was blurred now and distant with a dark tunnel all around him. Pain from the scepter's kiss sent spasms through his entire being, but he could not fight against it, nor could he block out the pain, for it had reached into the deepest recesses of his mind. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the receding booted feet of Loki.
He awoke with a start—tortured screams echoed in his ears, sending a shock wave of adrenaline coursing through every blood vessel of his being. He was in a dungeon of sorts, though where Legolas could not tell. A thin shaft of light barely illuminated the dank and cobwebbed corners of the room; it smelled of corruption, of terror, of death. More shrieks rent the air—the sounds of a sentient pushed to the brink of sanity, pushed right over the brink—and the elf cringed, clenching his teeth in agony as the horrible sounds seemed to grate on his every nerve fiber (he could feel them all, each neuron that brought sensation to his entire body, each axon seeming to fire at once). Legolas let out a groan, curling into a tight ball against the spasms that followed, the right side of his faced pressed into the grimy filth of the cold, stone floor. The pain threatened to drive him unconscious once more, but the elf refused to submit.
After a while, the spasms ceased. Legolas managed to straighten again, making it to his feet this time, his breath coming short and quick. He took a step forwards, but this left leg was suddenly jerked to a halt. Belatedly, the elf realized he was chained to the wall so that he could not reach the other end of his cell where the iron bars sealed the cell.
A third scream shredded the dank, cold air around him, but Legolas bore the pain better this time, refusing to be cowed back to his knees. His head ached fiercely and the meager light pierced through his eyes to his brain, but closing his eyes for a moment brought all the relief he required. Footsteps echoed down the hall along with the sound of something being dragged and the jangling of keys. The door creaked opened, and a crumpled bundle of rags (and something alive) was shoved inside, colliding with Legolas as a hearty shove from the shadowy guard helped the prisoner along its way.
By the time Legolas was able to untangle himself, the door was locked once more, and the guard was almost lost from sight. The figure moaned, and Legolas' stomach twisted at the pain, the fear, the tortured misery that one sound contained. He reached out a hand, but the individual cringed away with a hoarse cry.
"You have nothing to fear from me," Legolas assured his cell mate. "I am Legolas Thranduilion of the Woodland Realm."
The figure sought solitude in one of the wet corners as far from the light as possible. A choked sob was the only reply Legolas received.
"What is your name?"
A bloodied face turned towards him, but the features were obscured by the dark.
"I-I have forgotten," the voice managed in a barely audible whisper. The voice came from a male, but it had lost all deepness that came with maturity and was instead replaced with the resonance of a young boy.
"Forgotten?" Legolas asked aloud, frowning at the possibility. "What is this place?"
"I do not know," came the answer.
Legolas looked around the cell once more, searching for clues. He strained against his leash, trying to catch a better glimpse of what lay beyond the room but to no avail.
"It won't be long now," the small voice murmured. He began to rock back and forth. "Not long at all."
"Not long until what?"
"He took us from our merry vales and glens. He took us from our home."
An unsettling feeling came over Legolas as he slowly edged toward the figure.
"He brought us here and stole our joy, our laughter, our love for nature. Yes. He stole it all."
Legolas bent down to study his companion, carefully reaching out to turn the tortured face towards the light. The features became clear, and Legolas felt his darkest fear burst forth, choking back all good memories and the light of his people he always carried within.
"He is making us into monsters. I am all that is left." And indeed the face before him was barely recognizable, for some evil had mutilated all the features (which we will not discuss for decency's sake) and destroyed what was once a child of the stars—an elf. One of Legolas' kin.
"Who is?" Legolas asked, his own words barely above a whisper. He knew the answer, but he needed to be sure, to be absolutely certain of the darkness he feared was present.
"Melkor."
The name sent another wave of ripping fear through Legolas; his eyes widened with horror as the figure before him began to crawl toward him, one hand missing, another badly broken. The silvery blond hair had turned ashen grey. It was thinning in numerous patches and tangled everywhere else. Torn rags hung from the shrunken body, and the skin was deadly pale under the dirt and blood. Each pointed ear was ridden with holes, and Legolas did not know whether to pity or to fear the tortured elf before him.
"Yes," the elf whispered, stopping just before the shaft of light. The voice had changed to a harsh grating. "He took us and turned us all into what you see before you. I haven't much to lose now. Not long at all until I'm his. Morgoth Bauglir in all his glory has learned how to break the elves. You cannot resist him." The one good eye roved manically around the room, searching for something that was not there. "You break or you die. Not long now. Not long at all."
"You must fight it," Legolas said in a tone of urgency out of his own desperation to believe there was a way to repelling the evil that threatened to eviscerate his soul.
The mutilated elf shook his head sadly, retreating back into the darkness. The voice reverted back to its previous pitch. "No. No. Not long now. There is a part of us that struggles for life, and the only way to stay alive is to break. You cannot resist. Not long now. No. Not long at all. Break or die. There is no other way."
Legolas felt a rush of pity—Gandalf would have been proud—for the tortured figure before him, this thing that had once been (and still was?) his kin. He opened his mouth to speak, and then froze and blinked in surprise, for suddenly the scene before him faded and he found himself in another chamber.
The angry red fires that burned around the edges of each wall scorched the air. He was dangling from chains attached to both his wrist over a bottomless pit from which arose sulfurous fumes that choked his throat. Several sharp iron stakes and various instruments designed to cause pain were laid out neatly on a cracked, wooden table. Cold fear coursed through Legolas. It was this which had haunted his dreams—had haunted the dreams of every elf who heard of the dark deeds of Morgoth in the old days. Deforming the elves, and breeding from them the race of hideous Orcs.
A dark, tall figure stepped into the room. At first the features were dark and hard, resembling the powerful chiseled face of Morgoth Bauglir, but even as the elf trembled at the sight, the face blurred and morphed before his gaze. And it was not Morgoth who was smiling at him, innocently, mischievously.
Before him stood Loki.
"So, Legolas. We meet again," the god said with a chuckle, tapping his fingers against the blade of the nasty looking knife in his other hand. "Forgive me if I…frightened you. Are you quite comfortable?"
"I told you I would never join your cause," Legolas stated harshly. Now that it was Loki and not Melkor, his terror had subsided.
"Oh I understand your previous reluctance," Loki continued, his attention now fully on the vulnerable elf. "But I daresay you might want to reconsider now."
"Nothing you say or do will cause me to change my mind."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," argued Loki diffidently. "I must admit, when I touch someone with my scepter, they fall under a kind of trance and do my bidding, but I've never encountered your kind before. It seems you are resistant to my control, as I first suspected. However, since you took that little dip in the river, I now control your dreams."
"You can do no harm to me in the land of dreams," Legolas said, mustering as much conviction as he could.
"You have noticed where you are, yes?" Loki asked with a mocking smile. "If you are correct, this won't hurt at all." Like the swift strike of a snake, Loki threw the knife he had been toying with earlier, and its jagged edge sliced a long (but shallow) gash down the elf's side.
Legolas bit back a cry of pain, his eyes turned upwards as he tried to master the sensation.
"Of course I can't kill you," Loki continued as if oblivious to his sudden act of violence. "That would only wake you up, but this is much better. Here you are living your darkest fear. You can feel pain, but you will not die from it. What I propose is simple: You swear to abide by my every command without hesitation, and I will set you free of this place."
"I still refuse," Legolas said staunchly.
"Do you really want to endure the agony that turned your people into abominations?" Loki challenged softly. "You will long for death, but I promise you there will be no opportunity for you to receive it. By the time you awaken once more in the arena, you will no longer be an elf."
As Legolas shuddered, the god watched him speculatively, then added, "Pain is in the mind, Legolas. You cannot escape it here."
Mustering as much anger as he could, Legolas reaffirmed his choice once more. "I will not join you."
"Pity." The one word echoed in the elf's mind, the last reminder that Loki, not Morgoth Bauglir, had been standing before him. Once again, his worst fear had come alive.
The dark figure stood before him, a hot iron in his hand. The bright orange glow of the metal sent Legolas' pulse racing. He struggled against the chains, headless of the pain in his side as he tried desperately to find a means of escape.
Suddenly, Elven words spoken from above burst into the dark room like swords of white light sent to abolish the dark with sharp slashes. The peace and joy he had forgotten when once the dark dungeons of his dreams had entangled him in despair came rushing back, like a foamy, fresh torrent of hope. The chains that had held him broke, and the pit beneath him filled and became covered with soft grass. The evil before him had vanished from sight, replaced by Lord Elrond. Legolas stood amazed at the change, his mouth working to formulate any thought that would express his relief. Even the pain in his side had vanished.
"You are safe now, Legolas Thranduilion," Elrond reassured the younger elf.
Legolas took several deep breaths (some of them were almost like sobs) and then managed at last to speak. "I do not understand,"
"I have no time to explain," continued Elrond, holding up a hand to forestall any interruption. "Merlin can only maintain this communication for a short time."
Legolas nodded.
"Loki has indeed changed the rules of the game. There are now two ways you can end the competition. The first way is if all five arrows are returned to either of the two starting points." Elrond hesitated briefly. "The other is if everyone dies."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but another gesture from Elrond cut him off. "The latter is obviously not the preferred method. Originally, if any of you died in the arena, you would have been immediately transported back to Rivendell unharmed. Regrettably, Loki manipulated that magic as well. Merlin was able to recast the spell, but now only four individuals can die and be safely brought back. Any others will truly perish. Merida and Robin Hood have already died and returned to Rivendell. You must hurry if no one else is to suffer the same fate or worse."
"How will I reach the others in time?" Legolas asked. The image of Elrond was beginning to fade.
"I have arranged a means of transport," Elrond said, his voice growing distant. "Merlin can control very little magic while Loki possesses the staff. The only way to stop him is to take it. I must bid you farewell, Legolas Thranduilion. The spell is fading. Go with my blessing and that of all who are gathered here."
With a gasping breath, Legolas awoke, sitting half-crouched on the shore of the island, the sound of rushing water from the Enchanted River reassuring him that he was indeed back. The mist that has clouded the island was gone. Feeling his side, Legolas discovered there was no wound. The sky was a dusky grey, the hour late, but he was alive and unscathed. Picking up his quiver (and eyeing the golden arrow inside it), Legolas searched around for the transportation Lord Elrond had promised—a horse, no doubt. But then a cry far above him made the elf laugh in delight as his bow fell from the sky.
"An eagle is coming."
Will Legolas make it in time to stop Loki? Has Hawkeye caught up with Katniss and Susan (and managed to keep them from killing one another)? And will everyone make it home alive?
You know the routine. Tune in next Friday for the epic climax of CALLING ALL CONTESTANTS!