Arwen stepped over the dead elf children. She was pained greatly to see that her friend had betrayed them all, betrayed everything that they stood for. And now he dared to make her come out to Mordor to fetch her brothers? What did he think he would gain from it? She had been made to leave her archers at the gate, and make her own way to the fortress. On her way she had seen the Kilyut training, their vicious moves cutting through the air, making a noise that chilled her to the spine. She now saw that no elf army could overcome the darkness that her former friend had created, it was too powerful.

As she cautiously ascended the cold, stone stairs to the high chamber, she prepared herself for the very worst. Gradually, she neared the door and shuddered as she heard a scream from within. In a split second, sickness filled her. She recognised that voice. It belonged to her brother, Elrohir. She didn't bother to knock, but, full of fear and worry, she ran into the room.

Alerted by the sudden crash of the door, Morlas looked up at her from the centre of the room. Elrohir was lying in a bloody heap on the floor at his feet. Arwen gasped.

"Arwen, I am so pleased that you made it," said Morlas pleasantly, as he walked gracefully across the room to where she silently stood, waiting.

"I came here for my brothers, so give them to me." Arwen said nervously. She couldn't believe how different he looked. She stared into his eyes, but sharply turned away. His eyes held more than just darkness, they were the very reflection of evil. Arwen gazed about the room. Her eyes fell on the body of her father on one side of the throne. On the other, she saw a hanging rope, with nothing in it. Confusion swept through her mind. She had heard that the body of Aragorn hung on the other side of his chair, but where was it? She was about to turn to Morlas to ask him what he had done with the body of her love, when he ran his fingers over her cheek, rooting her to the spot. His fingers were cold and she felt as if they marked her skin with cruelty and malice. She shivered. Morlas laughed. Arwen slowly tilted her head to look at him. It was very strange, but somehow she felt compelled to look at him, to study his face. Morlas smiled in satisfaction. She was under his spell.

Arwen smiled back at him. Morlas bent forward and slowly leaned in to kiss her. Arwen tried to struggle but her body would not obey her mind's screaming. The kiss deepened, as he realised that she was his. He covered her mouth with his and their tongues connected in an intense moment of passion. Passion that shouldn't have been there, a passion, that he would later find, disturbed the laws of time.

Suddenly, with a great force, Arwen was blown across the room. She slumped to the floor as her body slammed into the adjacent wall. Morlas, a little uncertain of what had happened, ran over to her limp body and picked her up. As soon as he touched the elven princess, her body twitched, and her head flew back. Her crystal brown eyes melted, and like sand, red trickles ran into them until her eyes were gleaming red jewels. Her hair twisted about itself and soon went to a raven black. Morlas placed her on her feet, and she looked into his eyes. Slowly, she walked over to him.

"Thank you, my love." She said, and kissed him passionately on the lips. Elrohir watched them from the floor, paralysed with fear and guilt. Because he had been caught, his sister had gone over to the dark side. Who would save the world now?

A murmur ran through the dark lands as everyone heard of what Morlas had done to Arwen. The Kilyut were stunned to say the least. They had never doubted the power of their leader but they had never believed that he could be that powerful. Changing someone with torture and pain was one thing, actually changing the way they thought and perceived with magic was altogether an entirely new concept.

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Aragorn stumbled, as the rocks became slippery. He guessed that he was quite near Barad-Dur as he could see black smog rising from beyond the mountain peak. His mind swelled with thoughts of his death, images of a scornful face that had earlier been one of the few true beauties in Middle Earth. He remembered the words that Legolas had challenged him with, even then his voice had still been lyrical and soft, no hint that he would become the most evil creature to live.

Aragorn sighed as he wondered what the Valar would think about a creature of their creation destroying most of what they loved. Nobody seemed to be winning this battle. Nobody, not even Legolas, he mused. He wasn't sure though that he could ever hope to beat Legolas, or Morlas, whatever he wanted to be called now. To Aragorn he would also be his friend, companion. But still, he needed to overthrow him, but how? Good could never overcome evil. Good had conscious thoughts, regrets, guilt, remorse; it had things stopping it from hurting the innocent, from hunting the weak. Evil, on the other hand, evil had no remorse, no feelings but want, greed, hate and need of power. Evil had nothing to stop it getting what it wanted, you can't reason with evil because it won't listen. Aragorn mentally kicked himself for dampening his own spirits. He WOULD beat Legolas and he would make him pay for what he had done to Arwen. The memory of the fear and pain he had felt when the messenger had caught up with them and had told them all about it was enough to make him feel weak and nauseous.

How could Legolas do that to her?! It was that, and that alone for which Aragorn wanted to kill him.

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There were no stars that night; in fact, there had been no stars for a long time. All light and hope seemed to have deserted the skies above Mordor but, eerily, there still seemed to be a vast amount of light. Nobody knew quite where it came from although many said that it was Melkor, who looked upon them and saw the strength of Morlas, and rewarded him with an everlasting sun.

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Melkor – Morgoth, the evil Valar person thing.

Hattie: Hey you lot, I'm really sorry that this is so late, but we've just been so busy, and we kinda had to write it all again cos we lost the disc! Sorry again.

Tia: Now we're gonna write chapter eight; that could be easy or it could be hard. At one point I knew what the ending was going to be like…now I think my mind is a little rusty. Oh well, we can only try.