Title: Spirit of the Angel Warrior
By: Yukito
Rating: PG (some scary images).
Disclaimer: Don't own them, Any of them, never made money off of them and don't plan to, #Gets a far away look in her eye# though that would be neat #Shakes herself out of it#, whatever. Tolkien owns all.
Summary: An Elf child spirit is lonely and wants a friend, he finds Legolas in the woods and a party ensues. Meanwhile, Halbarad and the 22 year old Aragorn are heading to Dale and hear tell that Tharanduil's youngest son is missing. So it begins.
Prologue
He perched on a limb, perfectly balanced. He had left his bow at home, but his knives were heavy on his back. He didn't want them, but didn't dare travel without them these days and though his people were rather well known for being somewhat paranoid, he thought it an annoying, if well informed decision to bring them with. He didn't have a specific destination that day, other than a half-minded notion of heading south.
He sighed heavily and brushed some blond hair out of his face as he took in the forest. Once Greenwood the Great now…Legolas smiled to himself…Mirkwood the Murky. The smile fell and the prince closed his bright grey eyes to the darkness that had once been his home.
He remembered something his father had told him about the race of elves; "we carry in our hearts the greatest joy and the deepest sorrow."
He stretched out a long, pale hand and lovingly stroked the trunk of the tree he stood on.
"I am sorry my friends," he whispered to the forest.
The darkness seemed to lift momentarily as if the trees were accepting his apology and offering one of their won.
"I wish I could help."
If they could have, the trees would have smiled at him sadly, but as it was they could only push away the darkness farther from their friend and prince and hope to lighten his heart that way. The darkness soon closed in again leaving only small spot around Legolas and he seemed almost to be a candle in some deep, lonely cavern. He felt a tear slip down his cheek and wiped it away with another sigh.
One of his blades slipped from it's canvas sheath on his back and fell glittering to the earth far below.
Legolas rolled his eyes, it figured.
He gracefully descended the tree and was about to pick up his sword when he felt a small sting, like a bite of a small insect on his neck. The world began to spin and he fell to his knees in the dark underbrush. He put a hand to his neck and pulled a small dart from the soft flesh of his throat. He blinked at it stupidly for a moment, then fell onto his back and he could have sworn he saw a child's face above him before darkness took him. Then he laid there, his fair hair spread about him and over the dark ground. The candle flickered weakly in the inky blackness, before it was consumed altogether. The Fallen Angel hoped briefly someone would find him, and that that someone wasn't a spider.