A/N: Well as requested here is the next chapter in Phantom of Mirkwood.


Onto your reviews:


Dreamingfifi: My mistake about the modern language. I wasn't thinking straight when I wrote those chapters. As to where the elves live, I am certain the elves dislike caves and that the Mirkwood elves live in palaces and that is the way I am going to keep it. Hope you do not mind. And whether they win the fight or not ..... you'll find out soon enough. By the way I like the name change.


Kelly L.K: You'll just have to read on to find out what happens next. Thanks for the review and I'm glad you are reading this.


Leggylover03: Well I tried to write this as fast as I could and here it is.




Phantom of Mirkwood

Chapter Seven

Oronar's Doom

Aragorn desperately held on to the shaking sword with one hand while the other shielded his eyes from the immense light that was blinding him. As the light died Aragorn carefully opened his eyes. To his utter surprise he still held his sword in one hand, but the spirit was nowhere to be seen.


Sweat brimmed on his forehead as Aragorn turned towards Legolas who lay unmoving on the grass. Running over to the elf Aragorn turned his friend on to his back. Legolas was breathing, his chest rising slowly, but his face was cold.


"Legolas," Aragorn said, quietly.


The elf was not responding. Aragorn placed his hand on the elf's forehead, but as soon as he did that Legolas's eyes sprang open.


"Don't touch me." the elf snarled.


"What?"


Quickly Legolas grabbed hold of the human's shoulders. Aragorn began to feel dizzy and lightheaded. Aragorn shook his head as he realised that this was not his friend. The spirit had possessed Legolas!


Darkness was beginning to take him when he pulled his dagger from his pocket and gathering his remaining strength stabbed it up at the elf's shoulder.


"If you kill me then the prince dies too!" the spirit snarled.


Panicked at the thought of losing his friend, Aragorn somehow diverted the thrust of his blade, so rather than plunging into the elf's shoulder, it merely grazed it. Thinking quickly he kicked out at Legolas and the elf flew to the side. Getting to his feet Aragorn tackled his friend.


Aragorn at last managed to hold the fighting elf to the ground. He had to do something to keep Legolas alive but he could do no harm to his friend. As he was debating what to do, Legolas freed his arms from Aragorn's hold and lunged at the human. His fingers found the human's throat. Aragorn choked as the elf's grip tightened. Darkness came before him but he warded it off. His dagger was still in his hand and bringing it up high smashed the hilt into the side of the elf's head.


Legolas's eyes rolled back into his skull and his hold on Aragorn's throat was released. Aragorn gasped for breath, hardly noticing the twins coming up behind him.


"Estel?"


Aragorn looked up at the two elven twins and said quietly, "I must get Legolas to the healing ward." Carefully Aragorn scooped the unconscious elf up into his arms and walked towards the palace.


The twins followed and opened the great golden door into Thranduil's halls. The king of Mirkwood had not participated in the battle but instead had been waiting anxiously for any news. When he saw his son in the arms of the human he immediately called for healers, but his words were stopped when an old man stepped out from the corner of the room, robed all in grey, with a strange sword at his belt and a sturdy wooden staff clutched in his hand.


"There is no point to your healers, Thranduil. Your son cannot be saved that way. Let me tend to him."


Aragorn looked at the old man and recognition dawned in him. He had seen this man in Imladris before but only from afar. He never had the chance to speak to him before. "Who are you?" he said, forgetting that he should not speak unless commanded by the king or prince.


The old man gave him a friendly smile before answering. "I have many names. Mithrandir to the Elves; Gandalf to the Northern Men; Incanus in the South; Tharkun to the dwarves and Greyhame to the people of Rohan. I know how to save your friend, Aragorn son of Arathorn. Will you let me?"


Having never spoken to this man of many names before Aragorn was hesitant to do so but a look from the twins and the king made him hand the body of his friend over. Legolas was laid upon a table and Gandalf examined him.


Aragorn and the twins waited patiently. When at last the wizened old man rose his voice was solemn. "The spirit has taken possession of Legolas's body and has means to control it. It is a fearsome foe. Fire can kill it but it can only work when combined with the right type of weapon. But it cannot be killed while it has taken a host. We must draw it out. It will be difficult. Be ready with your weapons."


Gandalf placed his hands on Legolas's forehead and spoke in a language that Aragorn could not identify, though when he heard it, it made his spine shiver.


"You will release him, servant of Morgoth. Release him or feel the wrath of the power of the Maia." Gandalf spoke in the black tongue.


Then the voice of the spirit rattled in his ears. "I am Oronar. I am no servant of the one you name! I am my own master. I do not fear you, Maia." That last word it spoke with a venomous hiss, as if it knew that here was a foe that could match it in strength.


"Then you should." Gandalf replied, "I can chase you through him. You will not take another immortal life!"


"I have no need for this elf anymore! He is as good as dead. But you, I sense what you are. You are powerful Maia, and have more power than you yet realise. I can be almighty with you as my host. I will take you, and your mind will fall before my strength, and then this world shall be mine!"


Gandalf suddenly felt an immense darkness sweep into his body. If this Oronar took him as host then he would indeed be able to link the wizard's power with its own. "You cannot take me!" Gandalf cried. "You can try, but you will try in vain. I will not be used for evil."


"You have no choice, Maia. I will have what I want."


For the next couple of minutes Aragorn, the twins and Thranduil watched as Gandalf's face became tense and old. His hands jerked, and he fell to his knees. The veins in his forehead bulged as if he was exerting all his strength in one great labour. His eyes grew dark, as if a cloud had swept across them. Aragorn watched with fascinated dread, for he had heard of this man, this wizard before, and knew him to always be the bearer of wisdom and light, and a warrior for good, but this was one battle he seemed to be losing.


Gandalf felt a terrible darkness penetrate his mind, pushing all thoughts of goodness and light away. But Gandalf exerted all his strength, all his energy, all the power vested in him by the Valar, and with a great shout of victory cast the spirit from his frame and smote it down upon the floors of Mirkwood.


The spirit snarled, but then hissed in sudden fear. Gandalf's eyes snapped open, shining with light. Oronar crouched, ready to leap again, into the nearest host - a vengeful Aragorn, who had tugged his blade free from his belt as soon as the spirit reappeared. But Gandalf muttered some strange words and Aragorn's sword burst with brilliant blue flame.


"Swing now, Son of Numenor! Before it takes another!"


Gripping his sword tightly Aragorn leapt forward and with a cry of vengeance hewed the spirit with all his strength.


The sword cut right through Oronar, and the blue flame spread from the blade to engulf its entire body. It screamed, the first real pain it had felt for an age, and it knew that its doom was upon it.


"Go back to the pit, spawn of Morgoth," intoned the Istari, standing before it in full radiance, bathed in blue light. "Your time, is over!"


With a last scream of defiance Oronar burst, dark shards shooting in all directions, until eventually they dissipated into the evening air.


Gandalf sighed, and reached for the staff that had fallen from his hand when Oronar tried to take him. The lines on his face returned, his back stooped, and to Aragorn's eyes he looked nothing more than a humble old man.


"Well struck, Son of Arathorn," Gandalf said, "It will not return."


"What about my son?" Thranduil asked.


Gandalf laid his hands upon the unconscious elf's breast. "He will heal, but it will take time. The memory of this will haunt him for the rest of his days. He is injured inside and out, but with Elvish medicine, Prince Legolas should recover."



"You have my thanks, Mithrandir," said Thranduil. "Your arrival was most timely. Without your aid I doubt we could have defeated the creature."





"I did not journey here to do battle with the spawn of Morgoth," the wizard replied. "I heard the Son of Arathorn was here, and long have I desired to speak with him. My arrival at this time was a happy coincidence."





"Still, you have my gratitude regardless. My son would be dead now if it weren't for you."



Gandalf bowed slightly. "Your thanks are not required, Thranduil King. Ever it is my quest to do battle with the filth of Angband."

The wizard began to walk off. "Might I suggest that you send word to your warriors that the foe is defeated? And Aragorn, may I speak with you later? I have some issues that I wish to discuss with you."


Aragorn nodded, too bewildered by the day's events to say anything further.


Once Gandalf had left, Thranduil sent for healers to bare his son to the healing wards and to care for him. He also sent for Lord Elrond and soon his warriors were returning from battle. The Orcs had been slaughtered; not one escaped the Elvish bows.


Elrond and his sons were given rooms to sleep in and Aragorn was allowed to rest in the spare room that was located in the prince's quarters. He fell down on the bed and instantly was asleep.


TBC...


A/N) My brother James helped me write part of this chapter.