Author's Note: My play is a small one, nothing but a huge farce of "Hamlet". We have sold out every show so far!
Because of the overwhelming amounts of positive reviews I have been getting, I have been working extra hard to get this updated. Please, read and review, each one means so much, honestly.
Chapter 12: Purpose
The rain beat down mercilessly upon the lands of Middle Earth. It almost seemed that a higher power above was crying down. The thunder rolled and the lightning lit up the sky. Storms like this were known to happen to the country of Gondor, but unusually not this late in the year. The bite of fall gave a foreshadowing of the cold winter that lay ahead.
However, all the storm's might did not matter to one creature of Middle Earth. To one of a fading race, one of a race of magic and mystery, one of the Elves; weather did not concern him as much as the mortal men he had lived with.
Legolas continued to run, afraid of what evils the men might do to him now that he was alone. He had lost his only source of protection, his only source of hope and guidance. The Elf did not trust anyone without her presence, not even those he had known for years, like his teacher. He had heard evil rumors that men thought that the blood of Elves could be used to lengthen their own life. That by drinking the blood of an Elf, one could steal a touch of its immortality. Most adults knew this to be an ugly rumor, however children believe most anything told to them, by anyone that fate leads towards their path.
So, Legolas decided not to find out what evils the people might be plotting for him and just ran off, unnoticed by people who were too consumed in getting where they were going. Perhaps if humans took more time to notice the sights around them, rather than just reaching their destination, they would gain some of the Elvish secrets of immortality.
Now, he was far outside the town that he had called home. Not once did he look back.
As the town faded until it was nearly out of sight, Legolas' legs began to ache. Exhaustion from the stress of the recent events and the length he had run caused him to begin to stumble. Finally, he allowed himself to fall into the wet mud beneath him.
"What am I to do?" Legolas screamed, peering up at the storm clouds that went past at great speeds, "What am I to do now? Answer me, cruel fates, tell me your plan!"
Memories began flooding back into his head, beating down on his with more force than the rain ever could.
"You must listen to me, Legolas. You must listen well."
Tears began mixing with the rain on his face.
'You cannot stay here. You have destroyed your palace in Mirkwood and now Jaden is dead. Death and destruction come to all who care for you. You should leave now before you doom someone else to an untimely death.'
'You should go.'
Suddenly, one memory came to him stronger than all the others its loving voice filling his pained mind with a hope he had not felt in ages.
"Remember always that you are Legolas, meaning Greenleaf. Son of King Thranduil and the true ruler of Mirkwood."
His eyes widened as all other thoughts of his current predicament left his mind.
He was the Prince of Mirkwood, and no one could ever take that away from him. They could take away everything else that had ever mattered to him, but this was his blood, and he would be bound to it for all eternity.
The image of the flaming palace came into his mind, memories of a night came forth in perfect clarity.
Purpose. He suddenly had something he had never known before, purpose. He was going to devote himself to regaining everything that was lost. He was going to avenge everything evil that had been done to his family, his home, his kingdom and himself.
He rose from the ground, clutching those words that had been hidden in the back of his mind all those years. Words that had chosen this moment to return to him.
Rage turned into determination.