Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything from the two movies I got some ideas from: Night of the Living Dead and The Last Man on Earth.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review!

Deana- I am so glad you enjoyed the first chapter! I hope that you enjoy this chapter too! In this one, you'll find out what happened to Legolas. Thank you for reading and thank you for your review!

He began, slowly, sadly, but steadily. He wanted the others to know his past, so that he was not alone in such terrible times. "A long time ago, I went on a great adventure, although a tale for another night. Shortly afterward I was entrusted with my nephew Frodo, whose parents tragically perished long ago. He was intrigued by me, a hobbit who for once liked adventure." He stopped, but continued shortly afterward, "We used to come up to this cabin often when he was younger, in his childhood and tweens. That is why I had it built, for the two of us. It was our little secret place. While we were gone all of the other hobbits would bicker curiously and gossip behind our backs, but we would always return, healthy and happy- and well fed. There was always good food to be caught up here. But the days grew darker. Oh, dear I wish I could forget. Frodo grew very ill. His hands were sweating and shaking and his forehead was dripping with blood. I-I didn't know what to do. I called healers desperately, but each one of them failed in diagnosing him. It came to the point where I called in Lord Elrond of Rivendell, a friend of mine, but even he returned home perplexed. I-I don't know how he got so ill! But it worried me day and night until finally, one morning, so recently it occurred that his breath halted and his heart beat no longer throbbed! He died! Oh, Frodo…" Bilbo did what he could to resist tears and he successfully managed. However, he could not fight the chills that erupted down his spine as he told his next half of the tale:

"After Frodo's death, I was quite a wreck. I remember burying his body in the cemetery at Hobbiton and standing over his grave. I knew he was dead. I knew he was buried. Why then did I see him the next night?" Bilbo trembled and it took a hand from Legolas on his shoulder to calm him, except that the elf himself was shaking. "I went to sleep crying and woke up in the darkness to hear a knocking sound on my door…."

……..Bilbo sat up. He could hear the knocking on the door quite loudly. It made him angry. So recently after his nephew's death, who would dare to come barging in so late at night? He placed a cloak about his shoulder and went to the door.

It did not smell right, that putrid, rotting fume in his doorway. He placed his hand on the knob, but faltered. The smell was intolerable! Who could possibly be knocking at his door so late at night with such a stench about them? It could be no one he knew! Not even the Sackville Bagginses would dare attempt such a thing!

He opened the door, softly, carefully. He found that he could not move. He was entranced by what stood before him.

There was Frodo, somehow different, somehow the same. But more different, for sure, he was, than anything else. He was bleeding from his forehead once again and was wearing the burial shroud made for him. There was dirt upon him and twigs and leaves caught in his hair.

Bilbo began to think that perhaps Frodo was not dead and they had simply buried him alive. But burying alive was not something to be taken lightly. And Bilbo was sure that Frodo was dead when pronounced it. Still, he spoke to him, trembling, "Frodo! You are alive!"

The hobbit did not reply but raised his hands in the air. He placed them gently on Bilbo's shoulder and leaned his head forward as if he were to embrace and kiss him. Bilbo, however, out of the corner of his eye caught the gleam of a white tooth nearing his skin and threw that thing which called itself Frodo away from him. He slammed the door and locked it once more, leaning back against it for breath. He was shaking and fretting. And poor dear Bilbo! He was so distressed that he broke into a fit of sobs at his door.

More knocking and banging on the house at Bag End ensued and Bilbo felt as if he were going mad. He clutched his head and fell to his knees, but nothing saved him from that hellish nightmare…

……………..

"The next day I devoted myself to finding out more about this mystery. Several dozen hobbits had grown sick with the illness overnight." Bilbo sighed deeply. "It had reached epidemic proportions in Hobbiton. One more night with banging on my windows was all it took for me to flee the Shire for safety. I came into these mountains, and have been traveling for many nights. I had nearly forgotten where this cabin was. When I was traveling, I was caught in the darkness in the middle of a forest. There, I lit a fire as the creatures, many more than just Frodo, approached and I wielded it like a torch. It seemed to keep them at bay while I traveled. When their numbers doubled the next night, I was forced to seek shelter in a burrow within the ground, while holding my torch above the hole to keep them away." Here, Bilbo paused to watch the expressions of his companions, whose faces were dark and dreary, but did not speak of surprise at anything Bilbo had said. "My going was slow, and several days after I left Hobbiton I came across Legolas and the cabin." Here, he felt it best to end his story as it had frightened him so that he felt it take a dreadfully heavy toll on his health.

The hobbit children clung to Boromir, frightened very much so and not a bit amused. Their faces were white and created a sharp contrast between their hair and their skin. Fear was heavy in their voices as they squeaked slightly while trembling.

Legolas was silent, very silent, but very sad as well. His eyes had grown heavy and his knees had grown weak, even though he sat. His story was not less disturbing and it seemed to have harmed him more so than Bilbo.

Boromir watched in silence as Bilbo wiped a coming tear from his eyes. The poor old fellow had gone through so much. He had lost someone and was confused, perhaps more so than the rest of them!

But what was this terrible illness he spoke of? The hobbit children had mentioned it as well.

"I will tell my tale next." Boromir replied slowly, trying to lift the attention away from Bilbo, who certainly did not want it. "I was in Bree. I could have been in Minas Tirith with my father, as I was very comfortable there, but I was in Bree. Those rangers are quite the adventure. And the women in Bree." Boromir smiled softly. "Anyway, I was in Bree on my own accord when this disease erupted across the town. There was barely anyone there. The women were few, the rangers that resided there were scattered, and the town was barely large enough to sustain one traveler. I stayed at the Prancing Pony Inn, where only the innkeeper Butterbur walked. He gave me a room but warned me that I could not leave at night, only during the day, for he boarded it up. I inquired about this strange action, but Butterbur merely replied with 'for your sake I hope you never find out.' But I did find out. I am not one to merely sit at night and wonder. I like to know. So I crept outside through my window and saw to my horror, thousands of them.

They were everywhere! They were these walking men, women and hobbits, with a horrible stench and an appearance of empty shells, all walking toward the inn and several scattered houses where smoke billowed through the chimneys. I saw before my very eyes a woman being ripped from her house and devoured by those-those things." His eyes glistened with hate and tears. "I saw before my very eyes their sharp, bloodstained teeth puncture the skin of the dear, frightened woman's arm. The rest, I watched, but will not relay to you. It was so gruesome, so horrible!" At this, Boromir paused and sighed despairingly. "Then I heard Butterbur scream, within the Inn. One had crawled through my open window…" He shook his head. "When I went inside, Butterbur was already dead. I fled into the hills, my steed already drained dry of blood. It was there that I traveled for many nights, with only my sword for comfort in all of that terror. And one night, late in the evening, I met Merry and Pippin." He stopped and replied, "I will let them tell their own tale."

The small hobbits shook their heads but finally Merry relayed their story, through shaking lips and running tears. "Back in the Shire…My parents fell ill with the rest of the town, including Pip's father. They passed away. We didn't know what to do. Pippin's mother tried to comfort us, but she could find no comfort herself. Half the town had died from the plague-like disease that came to all at night. When the dead started coming to our doorstep, including those we had once loved-" Merry paused to let a sob escape from his mouth. It was then that Bilbo went to his side and comforted him gently. "Pip's mother took us and we fled into the hills. It was one night, not far from here, that the creatures came to us and grabbed his mother." At this, Bilbo had to comfort Pippin. "They-They bit her, but it was then that the sun rose, and they could go no further. They disappeared into the deep shadows of the trees until the light spread all about us and we could see them no more. His mother fell ill after that. She died not long later." Pippin buckled to the ground in tears and none of those around him could console him of his losses. He was loud and wailing, and it took Bilbo a few desperate moments to at least quiet him so that the creatures would not come for all of their company. Merry continued, but reluctantly. "The night after she died, she appeared to us once more. She was different…the blood seeped about her and her features were no longer kind…they were cold. And there was a rotten scent about her that caused me to vomit…"

……….

"Merry," Pippin said in joy, "My mother is alive! She is alive! Merry-" He paused when he saw Merry growing very sick.

It was then that the she-hobbit howled and barked, "Come Pippin! Come!"

But Pippin, despite his joy, felt a strange thought. That wasn't her…It wasn't his mother… He did not obey.

"Pippin!" she ordered. "Pippin, come here now!"

"Don't go to her Pip!" Merry begged, grasping his shoulder. "Don't go to her!"

"Pippin, come this instant! Now, Pippin!" she grew angry, and her eyes flared.

Pippin began crying and tried to break away from Merry. It took more than a few tries to be successful. He went slowly to her as she grasped his arm. She then lifted him up to level with her face and lunged her teeth forward.

Pippin felt his body thud against the dirt and leaves and heard the clanging of a sword. There was shouting from a man and a scream from Merry, who grabbed Pippin and carried him away from the fight. He then saw, as he sat huddled with Merry in the dirt against a tree trunk, a tall man with a horn at his side and a sword skillfully in his hands fighting with the creatures that surrounded them. He had saved Pippin! He had not been harmed at all, except immensely frightened.

The man fought with valor and protected them all through the rest of the night, until the morning shown brightly and he collapsed with weariness before them. However, he somehow found the strength to walk beside them, and urge them to move on despite how distressed they all were. They found the cabin, flung inside one of the rooms, and bolted the two doors in it, not willing to search the rest of the house. There, they all fell into deep sleeps from exhaustion…

……….

By now Merry and Pippin were both sobbing, Boromir was casting his eyes into the melting wax of the candle, Bilbo was trying desperately to comfort the hobbits, and Legolas was simply sitting there, his eyes averted. He knew it was his turn to speak.

After a few moments, the others calmed and watched him with anticipation, but Legolas merely snapped at them, "What business is it of yours to know my past? What right do you have to prod into it?"
"Such a pampered king, he is." Boromir sighed crisply and took a bit of berry from a basket beside him.

"Perhaps Legolas is not ready to tell us his story yet." Bilbo answered sharply. "Perhaps he is afraid to."

"Afraid!?" Legolas replied, remembering the hobbit's words from a few days before- 'We are all afraid sometimes.' "A Greenleaf is never afraid." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before beginning his tragic tale.

"I grew up with my father in the castle of Mirkwood. My mother died when I was very young. My father and I were very close. He protected me my entire life- raised me, loved me, kept me happy. When he died in battle, I was devastated. I-I had no where to go. He was my world. I met my wife shortly after his death and she took me in, you know? Loved me, cared for me. And I loved her so strongly. But she was mortal, from the town on the Long Lake, and passed away shortly afterward. My son Anoran was all I had left. So I determined to be like my father- to love him, to raise him, to never let anything happen to him. I vowed it. We had been traveling away from Mirkwood for a while, only a short trip to see foreign lands. That was all…"

……………………

"Ada! Ada! Look at the beautiful flowers!" The elfling jumped up and down and was so filled with joy that Legolas could not help but laugh at the site. "Ada, I have never seen these types of flowers! What are they?"
"I do not know," Legolas answered truthfully, placing his hand on one gently and smelling its sweet fragrance. "I have not been to this place before. But it is truly glorious."
Anoran touched the flower with wonder and said, "Ada, it is colored like the sunrise. Shall we call it then, a morning glory?"

Legolas chuckled and plucked the flower, placing it in one of his son's braids, "Aye. We shall!"
………………….

"Legolas?" Bilbo asked, waking the elf from his daze. "You must tell us more."

Legolas glared at him angrily. The hobbit had stolen him from his reveries. How Bilbo did not know how much Legolas needed to dwell on the past, when all was good and bright- when he was with his son. "Alright," he finally consented, continuing his tale, but his voice was dim and shadowy. He reluctantly let his tale slip from his trembling lips as the others watched and waited in the darkness for his next words.

………………..

The sun set heavily over the rising hills, creating an eerie orange glow to the rocks and grasses upon them. Anoran walked close to his father, for the first time in his life, fearing the woods. He could not exactly place why, but he knew he was afraid.

Legolas suddenly stopped. His spine straightened and his ears stiffened in alert. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as the foulest of smells drifted in with the wind.

"Ada!" Anoran wailed. "Ada, what is happening?"

"Shhh." Legolas silenced. He drew his bow and arrow quickly, but paused when he saw a flicker of movement in the trees behind them.

"Ada!" warned the child. "Behind you!"

Legolas swung around and fired his arrow, hitting his mark every so delicately. The creature that stood before him, however, did not fall.

It appeared to be man or hobbit, but deformed. It was not an orc or goblin either. It was simply…soulless. Yes, soulless. That was the only way to really describe the horrors before his eyes.

When the child screamed again, Legolas realized that fighting was no use. They were completely surrounded. Thinking only of his son, he took the child by the hand and together they fled through a space between where two of the beings walked.

They ran as quickly as they could, but even elves may lose their stamina. Legolas knew that the two of them would have to face their enemies, but he hoped it would not be too soon.

It was then that he felt the child's hand slip from his grasp and heard a scream. He swung around and with fiery eyes full of hatred sprung upon the lad's captor. He felt the coldness of its flesh, the unfeeling movements of its rotting body! He placed his blade beneath its throat and cut it, causing it to stop moving.

He glanced up to see Anoran backed against a tree, whimpering and begging the Valor to keep his father safe. It ached Legolas and he felt the promise of old within him. He would not fail his son…He had swore he would always protect him! "Stay Anoran!" he ordered.

"Ada! Ada I'm frightened!" the child intook his breath as he saw before his very eyes in the darkness the sword of his father swipe across the necks of a dozen creatures…

…………

Legolas felt a tear slip down his cheek and he choked out his next words, "When I looked back, Anoran was gone. There was no site of him. I looked in the tree…Everywhere…I've been looking since but I cannot find him. I call his name. I yell, I scream, I cry." Another tear fell down the elf's face and he turned away. "But he will not return to me. I vowed to protect him and I failed. My father never failed me, but I have failed my son." And those were the last words said. He flew to the door and flung himself outside.

Oooh…scary…ahem anyway. I hope that was entertaining and please review! Feedback is precious!

Chapter 3 coming soon.

Thank you!