Mirkwood:
Legolas sighed. Why couldn't Aethelred just accept Uncle Baelor? He'd done so much for them and now was allowing himself to simply fade into the background.
Except he isn't, is he? You spend more time talk with him than anyone else, don't you? A part of his mind countered.
Legolas sighed again. That was his other problem. That particular part had always steered him well. It had kept him from falling into many traps and had always appeared a pure, golden light in his head. Now, though, it appeared a sickly, black. Dead or dying. Another part of his mind, a hitherto unknown, dormant part was reading its head. It seemed both more beautiful and more delicate and yet stronger, crueler, and darker than the other. It was lovely And yet it was foreign. Come away, it said. It has served you well, but it is done now. Now it's my turn. Follow me. And it said to trust Uncle Baelor. Uncle Barlow loves. Uncle Barlow is good. Follow me.
And so, Legolas did.