Disclaimer: All facts and characters related to Tolkien's works are his.

Muddled Minds

Chapter III – Bugs and Encounters with Spears

He dropped the bundle in his hand and laid down his weapons. He then proceeded to untie the twine that held the cloth close. He picked up one of the fat wriggling creatures that were already scrabbling to get away from their forced enclosure and bit down on it with a juicy crunch.

Its legs were still wriggling when the rest of it disappeared down the throat of the man.

Legolas grimaced with disgust. The man was busy chomping away on bugs, picking them off the ground, where they were frantically trying to scurry away and chewing them up before they got too far.

When he had finally eaten his fill, he sank down into a corner of the cave and rubbed his belly with one hand contentedly, letting loose a loud belch.

Uncouth humans! Legolas thought to himself. All thoughts of his own empty stomach had diminished with the sight he had just witnessed.

The man seemed extremely satisfied with the feast of insects he had just had and fell quickly to sleep, the sounds of his deep breathing reaching the elf's ears.

A faint beam of moonlight sneaked in through the crack which let in the meager amount of sunlight during the day. Legolas imagined the stars that were concealed behind the layers of rock. He could almost see them in his mind's eye.

The man was a puzzle to him. Who was he and what was he doing in Mirkwood all alone? How had he avoided detection from the elves all this while… It was a mystery that perhaps would never be solved. A dark history lay behind those wrinkled black eyes, a history that only he himself could tell.

xxxxx

The presence of a threat made Legolas' eyes spring to awareness. The sharp tip of a wooden spear was pointed directly between his eyes. He froze not daring to move. His eyes traveled from the weapon to the dirty hand that held it and then the being's eyes.

Neither of them moved. The man tightened his grip on the spear and moved it back as though preparing to plunge it deep into the elf's skull. He watched his captive's eyes carefully and was taken aback by the lack of fear.

Kill me then… if you must. The Prince's eyes seemed to challenge.

There was something else there that the man could not make out. He had not had that emotion directed at him for many years. In fact, he had had little contact with any living creature other then animals for uncountable years. Slowly, he identified it as pity mingled with curiosity. The elf's head was tilted ever so slightly to the left as though voicing a silent question.

The man's gaze wandered from the fair face to the golden hair that hung about it. His hands began to tremble and his eyes showed conflict.

Legolas sensed the man's dilemma and remained still. Frankly, he held little hope that this showdown would have a happy ending.

The seconds ticked by and the two of them remained as immobile as the rock which surrounded them. The tip of the spear still stayed a mere hairs breath away from Legolas' face.

So… the Prince of Mirkwood dies alone in a cave to the weapon of a man. An insane one no less. Legolas mused. I wonder what he will do with my body. At least he'll be getting a break from those filthy insects if he decides to … eat me.

Despite his black thoughts, it was not in the elf's spirits to give up so easily. Unconsciously, he had begun to inch his head as far back as the cave wall would allow, putting some more distance between the spear and his person.

Both their bodies were tense and ready for any sudden moves. Legolas was prepared to jerk his hand upwards to grab the spear and prevent it from moving any further forward, staking his life on his elven reflexes. The man on the other hand was still busy battling some unknown force which had been awakened in his head.

As quickly as the axe of an executioner coming down on the chopping block, the moment passed. The man relaxed his grip on the spear.

Nothing could have prepared Legolas for what happened next though.

The man turned his back on the elf and bent down to pick up something on the ground. Legolas barely saw the club coming as it flew towards him and connected painfully with his head. His vision blurred and he saw the man approaching once again.

A sharp pain erupted in his right leg and he cried out in surprise, his back arching in agony. Warm hot liquid poured from the wound to mingle with the crystal clear pool of water he was standing in. His head hung downwards as he breathed raggedly. The last thing he saw before he fell into the deep black hole of unconsciousness was the reddened water.

xxxxx

He was being dragged. Someone was gripping his upper arm firmly and pulling him along. His leg was protesting wildly against the rough treatment. He was leaving a trail of blood behind him.

It took Legolas' fuzzy mind a while to realize that he was being dragged in slow, agonizing circles. He had to pass the same tree thrice before he came to that conclusion.

He clenched his teeth and tried to ward off the nausea that was welling up in him.

He was in too much pain to rejoice at the fact that he was outside once more. His breath was coming in short gasps as he tried to control himself. When at last, the man stopped the strange ritual; Legolas was barely clinging onto awareness.

He was left on the ground bleeding and trying to get his breath back, blood encircling the area around him. When he looked up, the madman had disappeared from sight. He felt too weak to stand; the loss of blood combined with the lack of nourishment for the past week or so was taking its toil on him. He rested the side of his cheek against the cool ground.

The grass tickled his face but he barely noticed.

The air tingled with anticipation. Something was about to happen, but Legolas couldn't for the life of him guess what.

TBC…

Hee Hee hee … evil me. Rubs hands in glee. Now the action begins.

Please, review! Lack of response will soon take its toil on me.