Fear Returns
The following chapters have been re-written to fit in better with the later part of the story.
**Re-written**
Set eight years after Lord of the Rings
Prologue
After the War of the Ring the fires of Mount Doom should be still and quite, the Dark land or Mordor still and empty.
But no, the fierily mountain still burned fiercely as it had done since the halfling Frodo Baggins bore the Ring of Power on his long, dark and dangerous journey.
Frodo had since passed away into the West, alone without the company of Gandalf the White or Lady Galadriel who remained behind; their time no yet ended.
They felt the evil now, stronger then had been for an Age, the shadows returning from the East settled over the green leaves of Mirkwood once again.
The land of Mordor was swarming with activity, the tower of Barad-dûr standing tall against its mountainous background. From its gates marched a steady stream of Uruk-hai armed with horrid assortments of weaponry. One in particular was very different, neither sharp nor black by glowed white and a clear liquid sloshed against its glass sides shaped like a knife blade. Their new weapon. No one and nothing could stand in their way.
The Nazgúl hovering over head flying on enormous creatures which screeched into the dark sky that would send shivers down the spines of any mortal creature and strike fear into the hearts of men and elves.
Already Sauron was marching was on the free people of Middle-Earth.
Chapter 1
The ground beneath him blurred with speed. Trees flashed quickly past him, his eyes focused on the ground ahead, his pointed keen elven ears listening hard for the mistakable noise of orcs hunting him.
He had to go against his instincts and continue with his journey to Rivendell as ordered by Lord Elrond. He wanted to turn back and fight with the other elves and defend his home. Nut the urgency of Elrod's message had startled him. Never before has he required his help so urgently – it disturbed him. Yet the half-elven lord had kept the reason for his aid secret didn't matter anymore, the need to go to Rivendell was increased – they must know of their ambush, their ability to catch elves unaware and stop them dead in their tracks with drawing blood.
He spurred his black horse onwards fearing they would be caught.
Oddly he heard his riding instructor giving him advising in his ear over the drumming of hooves: "Sit straight, toes up and heels down! Keep rein contact and the ball of your foot on the stirrup – Legolas! Are you listening?" he could hear him saying.
"Beelzebub is not let fully broken by Sódë; he still needs saddle, bridle and reins!" Legolas fell in love with the wild temper young black stallion with a white strip on his face and white socks – he was as stubborn as he was. He paid good money to the men for him and still Sódë had not completed training with him.
But that didn't matter now; both elf and horse ran out of fear. His once shinning coat and bright white socks were hurt and bloodied. Legolas too suffered wounds as they forced their way past the enemy, dodging the spiders who where too slow to catch elf and horse but caught starry orcs instead.
Beelzebub stumbled and Legolas tensed his back muscles to stop himself from falling, his hands fell onto the sweaty neck of his horse. Sweating out of fear. The young stallion was the fasted horse in the stables, but was so aggressive other elves would not ride him, preferring bareback, safe horses that turned at the quietest whisper rather then harsh leg commands and loud common tongue orders.
He pulled sharply into a halt, his path forwards blocked. Turning his face fell – he was surrounded!
The same thought had it the young horse who whined and reared, his front hooves battled back the blades of the enemy. Legolas leant forward to counterbalance the action of his horse, and then backwards as the animal bucked, kicking some orcs high into the air.
But the mob of black crept closer still, unafraid of the bucking and rearing horse, their eyes on the elf riding it being shaken about.
Dispirit to fulfil their orders form their master: "Leave none alive!"
The orcs smiled sickly as Legolas lost the battle to stay on his wild horse and wound horse. He was thrown from the saddle. Then the horse took flight into the woods, leaving behind its master at the mercy of the orcs who'd swamped him.