Wow, this is a quick update for me! Just couldn't resist, mate!

This chapter is dedicated to Evenstar 606, in thanks for her/his enthusiastic review!

Once again, I own nothing except the story idea, and a hammie. Mad props to Tolkien. This story was actually inspired by my desktop, which has a screencap of the whole "you would die before your stroke fell" scene.

Read and review I beg of ye. Enjoy!

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Chapter 2

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"A red sun rises, blood has been spilled this night," Legolas said, more to himself than the others.

They had run through the night, and there had been no reappearance of the voice, or the strange events that had happened simultaneously. Strangely, Legolas' heart felt heavy with the thought, for he knew this was merely the calm before the storm. The air was thick with otherworldly electricity, and he wondered idly if the red sun heralded the end of the hobbits, or foreshadowed his own. He shook his head fiercely to rid himself of the thought and trudged on.

"We should stop here and rest for a short while," Aragorn called to them, raising a hand to signal the stop.

"We've no time for such pleasantries! I've not run for days on end, only to allow those foul creatures to slip from our grasp! My axe cries to cleave into Uruk flesh!" Gimli panted between laboured breaths, brandishing his axe at Aragorn menacingly.

"I agree, Master Dwarf, we must indeed move hastily. However, we will be of no use to the hobbits if we arrive to defend them in such a weakened condition," Aragorn explained in a stern, cold voice.

Legolas moved to gather the meager wood that littered the plain, smiling softly to himself at Gimli's indignant response to his 'weakened condition.' The wind had changed direction and it blew down from the North, allowing a soothing breeze to tickle the grass. He bent down and picked up two sticks that lay at his feet. When he stood, he was surprised to find Aragorn standing but a foot away.

"You startled me Aragorn," he began, but fell silent as he heard a murmur laced into the breeze. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he realized the voice had returned. His eyes darted around the surrounding field, looking for any signs of the dark man. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, his eyes sought out Aragorn's in desperation.

He realized the man was talking, and apparently had been for some time. Or at least, his mouth was moving, and sounds were coming out, but Aragorn wasn't forming words, at least none that Legolas could understand. He had a sudden wild impulse to unsheathe one of his long knives and slice Aragorn's head from his shoulders. If Saruman had indeed poisoned Aragorn's mind, it would be a far more peaceful end, Legolas thought.

"Legolas? Legolas Are you even listening to me?" It took Legolas a few moments to realize that those words, at least, he could comprehend.

"Of course I am," he responded in a pinched voice, trying to ignore the narrow eyed look of suspicion from Aragorn. 'He knows. He knows, you've gone mad, and now he'll cleave your head from your shoulders, you fool,' a familiar voice in his mind whispered oily at him. Again, he shook the violent thoughts out of his head, he did not have time for such folly.

"He asked ye if ye'd heard anymore of that wretched voice, since ye'd last mentioned it, crazy elf!" Gimli replied from the campsite a few feet away. Both elf and man looked at him incredulously.

"I did not know you were fluent in the elf tongue," Aragorn said as his head cocked to the side.

Gimli waved a hand dismissively at them. "I'm not fluent in any elf anything. I reckon I've picked up a word here and there from the elf is all."

Aragorn turned back to face him; he scrutinized the elf for a long while before Legolas remembered that a question had been asked.

"At times, particularly when the wind is from the North," he said without thinking. His mind was still working to understand why he hadn't been able to comprehend his own native language. Furthermore, the voice on the wind had grown, until it sounded to Legolas as if Saruman was standing directly next to him. He wanted to scream in frustration, for as loud as the voice was, it was still not comprehendible. He felt as if he was underwater, listening to the wizard screaming from shore.

A headache was building again, and he dropped the wood he held in order to pinch the bridge of his nose. As he did so, the world seemed to tilt sharply forward. He took a step forward to balance himself, and looked up to Aragorn to catch him. As before he found himself transposed.

Aragorn was standing not more than twenty feet away, but he saw only the back of his cloak and tunic. His imposter self was standing in front of the man looking dizzy, steadying himself with a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. As the dizziness apparently passed, the elf straightened and looked at Aragorn with a slight smile. He said something to the man, and gestured to the right. Aragorn walked off in that direction, and as soon as he was out of sight, the elf looked directly at Legolas with undisguised loathing.

Legolas returned the gaze, feeling both relieved that Aragorn hadn't been harmed by the dark force animating his body, and horrified that any of this could be actually be happening. Suddenly a new emotion emerged as the elf before him spoke. Rage.

"So, it's come to this, has it, ye foul beast?" he heard his own voice spout from the imposter's mouth. The elf seemed surprised to hear it at well, for he raised a slender hand to his throat in near wonder. Legolas narrowed his eyes in response, and reached for his knives, realizing belatedly that they would not be there.

It sickened him, that his creature was animating his body. It was completely unwholesome, and he felt violated. He started to run at the elf, intending full well to tear him apart with his bare hands, but he seemed to be heavier than usual. It felt as if he was wearing layers upon layers of plate armor, and after a few halted steps, he fell flat upon the ground. He looked up at the elf, his mind reeling with confusion, anger and injured pride. He could not coordinate his limbs enough to rise from the ground, but he realized smugly that the dark force was doing little better in his body.

He watched in grim fascination as the elf staggered a bit, looking as if he might crumble right to the ground. After a few moments he righted himself, but to Legolas he looked like one of those entertainers he had seen in one of the towns of men. Men who juggled knives, and appeared to be nine feet tall, but who were in fact, walking on sticks concealed by their pant legs. The elf also seemed to be having trouble seeing, for his eyes were squinted nearly closed by the light of the sun.

His own hearing and sight had diminished to the point he felt blind and deaf, and they were worsening. He felt completely out of control, and he knew at that moment that it was hopeless. The fellowship had failed, and he would never again see home, his family, or his friends again. He took a few deep breaths that sounded suspiciously like sobs, and he screamed in frustration and anger. The elf before him clapped his hands over his ears and let out a keening wail that made Legolas' hair stand on end. The elf before him then grabbed Gimli's discarded axe and strode over until he was standing ominously over Legolas.

"Enough!" the elf cried, and raised the axe high over his head.

TBC