She was the youngest and slightest of her sisters. Galsila was also second youngest to that of her brother, Legolas. It was therefore natural for the two to seem closer than the rest of their siblings. While she could not relate to the warring and archery as her brothers could to Legolas, both Galsila and Legolas were known throughout the Kingdom for a virtue not common with Thranduil's children – their silence. While Thranduil had instilled in his offspring a definitive outspoken demeanor, Galsila and Legolas took after their mother. More content to watch and observe than be heard themselves. It both infuriated and enchanted their King.
As night drew its eerie drape over the Kingdom, Galsila clutched her robe closer to her fair skin; although she did not feel physically cold. But there was something amiss in the halls of Mirkwood…
And then her ears picked up a single uttered word. The fine hairs at the base of her skull stood on end. Torches lit her way down the cavernous stone walls until she reached the door of her brother. Opening the thick rounded door, she was greeted with a cool breeze that brought tidings of the forest's ill contempt. The inhabitants of Mirkwood were more than accustomed to the misery that the wind blew with during this age, but tonight it seemed suffocating.
Legolas' windowed doors were open, gauzy drapes softly conforming into shapes as if a spirit possessed them. She shivered. Glancing down at Legolas who lay quietly breathing in a deep slumber, she rushed over and closed the doors. She lingered a moment, staring out the balcony. This night brought tidings of another ill-fated night. But she would not dwell; she promised herself long ago that she would never dwell on a past that could not be reversed.
A soft moan from Legolas made her spin on her heel. He was dreaming, although it was uncommon for Elves to talk in their sleep.
"It's the draught the human gave him."
She gasped in surprise. Only Eliathas could sneak up on a fellow Elf like that. When she was an Elfling he took great humour at frightening her whenever the chance presented itself. Galsila soon learned to counter act by always having her back covered. She forgot herself this night.
"I did not mean to startle you." And he was sincere.
Still, she shook her head in denial that she had been startled when it was quite obvious the opposite was true.
Eliathas approached the bed with feather light steps. He studied his brother's glassy eyes, which stared at nothing in particular. Try as she could, Galsila could not read what emotions lay behind the stony look in the future heir's face. He looked up at her with the same stern composure only her father could muster.
"What has he said to the dark?"
She spoke softly, all the while gazing down at Legolas. "I only heard but a few words. He was speaking to our mother."
Eliathas' eyes narrowed. "What did he say?"
Galsila felt as though she were being scrutinized. "Nothing coherent. If you are so concerned with what he had to say, then by all means awaken our poor brother now and ask him yourself."
Eliathas held up a hand, and his face softened. "Peace. I did not mean to be accusing."
"You never do."
It was Eliathas' turn to look surprised. "I have never heard you speak to me as such."
"Of course not." Galsila gathered her robe tightly around her and headed for the door. "Perhaps because we never speak at all."
Eliathas' eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his sister's words. He had always thought the youngest Princess to be so innocent, even naïve at times. Perhaps she was not so courteous as her maidenly form projected.
A soft whisper broke his thoughts. Legolas was speaking, but to whom he could not tell. Eliathas leaned in closer.
"Legolas. Awaken from this reverie. Tell your secrets not to the shadows, for they have ears even sharper than that of Elves."
"Take back the night! Give us the blood and nothing more!" The words came out as a fierce snarl. So sudden was the change in Legolas that Eliathas jumped back a step. He had never heard his brother utter words of such dark nature.
Eliathas turned sharply on his heel and jogged out of the room and down the hall. He did not know whom he would go to, indeed he did not know who would help. Eliathas grew fearful for his brother.
Two pale and slender hands caressed the limp left hand of Legolas. The fair maiden of Lothlorien, stepmother to that of Prince Legolas lightly traced the lines on the palm, reading them and finally placing his hand back under the sheet next to his torso. She softly touched his cheek, then his forehead.
"Do not give in to the shadows now, Legolas. Not when so much valour awaits you."
Gandalf cocked his head to the side when she whispered the Sindarin words. He glanced up at Thranduil who stood silently to one side, looking very opposing in the dark midnight. But he could tell that the recent developments were upsetting to the King.
Clutching his head in her hands, Faerla lowered her forehead to rest on Legolas'. She closed her eyes in deep study. Gandalf had never seen the likes of this before, particularly on another Elf. Thranduil folded his arms across his chest. The old wizard could only guess what the King was thinking; disdain, fear, disbelief, perhaps even jealousy?
She spoke silently, only her mouth moved. Gandalf knew the conversation was meant only for her and Legolas.
After a few moments, she raised herself but still held Legolas with her hands. "There is much darkness in his thoughts. It is not from the draught or the poison. Nay, I think something has wormed its way into his mind. Who knew how long it lay hidden, until it chanced upon the opportunity when a foul poison would weaken him so."
Thranduil looked aghast. "There is an evil spirit in him?"
Faerla concentrated deeply. "No, not in him per say. No, I think it is here, in this very room with him. I think it speaks to him in a language only his fevered mind can understand."
Thranduil began to pace. "Then it must be rid of! Can you find it Faerla?"
She shook her head in resign. "I do not think this is our battle to be won."
Thranduil grunted. "And you propose we just sit here? As lethargic in action as the one who lays sick with shadow?"
"That is exactly what I propose. We will aid him with our strength for his has been sapped from him. Husband, we cannot stab this evil with a sword." Faerla looked up at Thranduil and held his gaze with a piercing steadiness of her own. Gandalf would have smiled had not this been a moment of utmost severity. There were not many beings on this earth that could hold Thranduil enrapt. And so the King deflated and sunk into the closest chair, hand holding his head up.
It was a detachment of unearthly kinds, this much Legolas knew. An odd fog dulled the visage of what he knew to be some sort of evil dream. He passed Elves in the halls but they did not acknowledge him. Their eyes were devoid of any recognition. Two Elves passed him, whispering between themselves and as Legolas strained to hear, he realized he could not understand what they were saying, nor even the language they were speaking. Panic threatened at the corners of his sanity but he suppressed it with the reasoning that this could not possibly last for long. He would wake up soon, that much he was sure of. The mist swirled around his legs as though to entrap them, but he waded through regardless of their intent. He entered his room, or what he was sure was his room.
There were no lights flickering, no fire burning and a very unelven shiver coursed its way through his body. He was quite cold. The window was opened and Legolas surmised that that must be the culprit of his chills. Clutching his hands to his chest for added warmth, he made his way over to the window and closed it. He turned to his bed and felt his heart stop.
His mother lay in his bed. As beautiful as he remembered her, she looked to be asleep, although her eyes were closed. Attempting to call for her, he found his voice had failed him. Even his mouth refused to open. His entire body shook again, although whether it was from cold or shock, he could not tell. He wanted to move to the bedside but his legs would not answer his commandment. For all intent purposes, he was paralyzed.
"She looks quite peaceful, doesn't she?" The voice was a hiss, not human like at all. And fight it as he wished, he felt compelled to answer it.
"Yes." His voice was nothing more than a strained whisper.
"No more fear, no more death, no more betrayal. This world was not meant for one with such beauty as she."
Legolas was colder than he had ever been for now his body was shaking uncontrollably. "Who are you?" He managed to ask, but his voice had lost much of its countenance.
He could fell movement behind him, the thing was moving to face him. And when he saw it his hand automatically strayed to his side, but was quite shocked to find that his daggers were no longer with him.
The vampire laughed. "No need for bothersome weapons here, young Prince."
Legolas' eyes narrowed into a steely glare. "I killed you."
The thing made an unsettling sucking noise through his fanged mouth. "You cannot kill what is already dead young one." The vampire drew his attention to the sleeping Queen on the bed. He cocked his head to the side in admiration of her. Legolas wanted to rip him from limb to limb. "And now here we all are. Quite cozy don't you think?"
"What do you want?"
The vampire was actually pouting at him. "Only to give you the means to your salvation. After all, mother and son is a sacred bond. You should be together."
Two parts of Legolas' mind were entrenched in a deadly fight with one another. One screamed at him to move, to not listen to the beast, to run from this evil place. The other bade him to listen, to stay with his mother, to give in to the beast.
The vampire knew the war that was raging within. It would not be long now. "I can give you this. I can give you respite from your weary life. Join your dear mother."
Legolas could not break his stare from his mother's prone form. Tears of frustration fell from his eyes.
"See how she calls to you?"
"Legolas!"
Both Legolas and the vampire were jolted by the new voice calling from the doorway. The vampire hissed and recoiled while Legolas' eyes widened as the figure of his stepmother walked into the room.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, feeling very breathless.
Faerla kept her eyes glued to Legolas' tired face. "You are in a very dark place Legolas. You must come back to us."
The vampire was crouching behind Legolas. "Do not listen to the Elven witch!"
Faerla fixed the beast with her glare. "Begone creature! You are not welcome here! Go back to the depths of shadows and bother the living no more!"
The thing hissed and screeched but crawled nonetheless to the window, and just as the mist encircling everything in the dream, the vampire dissipated.
Legolas' mind was trying vainly to comprehend the spectacle taking place.
"He was not real, Legolas."
He turned back to his step-mother, mouth hanging slack while trying to form some sort of intelligible sentence. "He..he offered me…"
"He offered you death."
Legolas shook his head. "No…she is here…" He turned to face the bed, and a strangled sob escaped his mouth. His mother was not there. She disappeared just as the beast had.
Faerla took hold of his shoulders. "Her spirit is with the Valar. She does not wish for you to make that journey, not yet. But if you give into your grief for but a moment, it will convince you to follow. You must resist it, Legolas, no matter how tempting the offer is. This world is not finished with you, and you are not finished with it."
Legolas shook his head, but could not hold back the tears. Faerla embraced him tightly, letting the fog consume both of them.