Legolas lay in darkness. A flickering candlelight caused the shadows to dance on the walls around him. His own shadow, pleased at the recognition from Shadara joined them, seeming to mock the Elf. His wounds had been treated by shadow-doctors, who used the magic of the shadows to heal him.
The Elf turned his mind to the dream-world of the Elves, closing his eyes to block the twisting evil of the shadows. But even the Elven dream-world held no comfort for him.
He was walking through a forest, an old one, where the trees whispered to him legends of bygone times, from before even he was born. The leaves rustled comfortingly around him and the air was clear and fresh.
And then the sky darkened. The trees' whispers became pleas for help. The shadows distorted the proud tall trees, making them twisted and gnarled. The air grew bitter and sharp with evil. Legolas looked around frantically. This wasn't the world he knew it to be. Suddenly, a shove from behind sent him falling to the stained earth. He looked up to see his shadow standing before him. A choked cry of horror left Legolas' lips as his shadow drew a knife from the earth.
"What do you want?" he asked, an inner chill sweeping through his body.
His shadow merely laughed, a cold sound that shook the earth. Then it plunged forward with the knife. Legolas closed his eyes as the knife stabbed towards him. He felt a sharp, searing pain in his head, and he lay in the dirt. Pain was all he felt and seemed to be all he had ever known.
His shadow laughed again, cruel and sadistic, as the wind quieted. The sun shone again, its warmth melting the coldness in Legolas' bones. The shadows withdrew, but still all he felt was pain.
Legolas opened his eyes, but he found he could not see. He put his hands before him, grasping at nothing but air. He felt the grass beneath his knees, thick and damp. His shadow flickered across his face, chilling him as it passed. It paused at his ear, whispering with a voice filled with barely suppressed glee.
"Never again will you see the sunlight. Never again will the beauty of this earth grace your eyes. Never again will you see, Legolas."
A realization cut through the pain. And he knew what the shadow had done. Legolas raised his trembling hands to his eyes. His eyes that would never see again. And knew. The shadow had slashed forward with the knife. His shadow had put out his eyes.
And with that finality, despair filled Legolas' veins with its heaviness. The Elf brushed his fingers over his torn eyes. His shadow's mocking laughter filled his ears as his last barrier of defiance broke and he began to weep. Tears of blood fell from the Elf's broken eyes, through his fingertips, to stain the grass a deep red.
