The Fellowship of eight was continuing its journey to the Elven land of Mirkwood ruled by Thranduil, Legolas' father. Legolas and his companions had recently defeated the corrupted shadow-king Shadara and the Elf wished to return to his home to calm his mind of the terror he had experienced in Shadara's kingdom.
"Mirkwood grows closer. I can almost smell the trees of home." Legolas sighed. "But I also smell smoke."
"You are right, my friend. Something burns, and nearby. Perhaps we are close to a camp of some sort." Aragorn the Ranger replied.
"Then let us hasten, and ask to stay there for the night." Sam, one of four Hobbits, urged the others. Like most Hobbits, Sam was fond of a warm fire and comfortable bed.
Gandalf the wizard nodded his old head in agreement. "Very well."
Altering their course slightly to follow the scent of the smoke, the Company made their way to the source of the smoke. Gandalf was leading them and as he burst through the forest's edge, he stopped cold.
"Gandalf, what is it?" Frodo asked.
"The village that used to be here. It is gone." Gandalf said slowly.
"Gone? But how is that possible?" Merry and Pippin peered around Gandalf's cloak.
Gandalf moved into the open, letting the others file out beside him. Before them they saw the remains of a village. The buildings were ravaged, and most were charred frames that swayed in the slight breeze that blew. Bodies lay scattered on the ground and in the rubble of the buildings. The stench of death hung heavy in the air.
"What has happened here?" Aragorn asked.
"That is obvious enough. Something has completely destroyed this village." Gimli the dwarf replied.
The Company moved into the village slowly, holding their hands over their noses to mask the smell of burned flesh and fresh blood. But still the metallic sickly smell of blood and flesh reached them.
"We must burn the bodies, or bury them." Gandalf said, his voice muffled by his sleeve as he held it over his nose and mouth.
"Burn them. We may have the energy to bury them, but I do not think any of us have the minds to do so." Legolas spoke truthfully, for no one in the Company wanted to have the task of burying the villagers.
Instead, they dragged or carried the bodies to the center of the village. By the time the last person was placed on the pile, all of the Company felt emotionally and physically drained.
"I am sure now that I do not wish to become an undertaker." Merry panted as he and Pippin dragged a woman's body to the pile.
"This is no time for jokes, Merry. We must find out who killed these people." Aragorn said as he passed the two Hobbits, carrying the bodies of two small children.
"Or what." Legolas added. "There are the marks of a troll's club in the earth and large heavy footprints, but they stop. And then there are axe wounds in some and tooth and claws wounds in others. And those who are further away have arrows in their backs. Elvin arrows."
"And the axe wounds come from a dwarf's axe." Gimli said as he added another body to the pile. "But never before has a dwarf traveled with an Elf, a Warg and a troll."
"I am afraid that these villagers are not alone in the mystery of their deaths. Several villages have been destroyed along the Northern border, or so I have heard." Gandalf sighed heavily.
"Gandalf!" Frodo called. He was kneeling beside a young woman whose leg lay twisted awkwardly beneath her, obviously broken. But the woman was alive.
The old wizard looked down at her with kindly eyes. "We will try to save you."
"No," the woman shook her head, "It is not possible. He will return tonight to kill me, for he knows that I live."
"Who is he?" Frodo asked.
"You are a Halfling! I thought you to be a child." the woman laughed wearily. "Ah, he is a strange one. A shifter of shapes, they call him. He will return tonight. And I will die."
"A shape-shifter? How unusual. They are rare, but not unheard of." Gandalf mused.
"We must get her away from here." Sam said, looking at the young woman.
"No! You cannot allow me to endanger another village. I must stay here." the woman said forcefully.
Frodo bowed his head. "She is right. But we will stay here and guard her tonight. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of this shape-shifter."
Gandalf swiftly lifted the woman, jarring her leg as little as possible. They made their way back to the others, where Legolas was lighting the fire that would cremate the villagers.
The woman let out a quiet sob as she saw them. She turned her face away from the bodies, tears streaking her ash-covered face. Aragorn took her from Gandalf, allowing the wizard to lay a cloak on the ground near the forest for the woman to lie on.
"Tonight we will guard this woman." Gandalf told those who did not already know so. They nodded.
"This woman may not decide the fate of this world or carry some key to lock up all that is evil here, but I will not see her die. She must live to tell her story as the only living witness to this shape-shifter's evil." Gandalf continued, answering the unasked question of why is she so important.
As night fell and darkness crept in, the Company sat around a small fire, as they had for many nights on their journey. Legolas shivered slightly, feeling a chill wind dance around them.
"Legolas?" Gimli asked.
"I am fine. The wind, it reminds me of Shadara." the Elf replied. "But no matter, for she is gone."
Suddenly, Aragorn sat up straight, peering into the darkness. He held up a hand for silence and motioned Legolas forward.
"What do you see? I have a feeling that there is some creature out there, but I do not know what." the Ranger said.
Not far away, in the remains of the village, two bright eyes glittered. "There are eyes in the village. They belong to a large creature, hulking, a Warg or werewolf I believe." Legolas replied.
"It is coming closer." Aragorn noted calmly, drawing his sword. At the sound of steel scraping on scabbard, the others looked up. The Hobbits and Gandalf drew their swords while Gimli reached for his axe. Legolas fitted an arrow to his bowstring and aimed for the eyes.
"He has come!" the woman cried, terror filling her voice.