Disclaimer: "My own, my love, my own, my precious".Wakes up suddenly. Phew, I thought for a minute there that I owned it all. Which is completely untrue of course. I wish I did, but I don't have any relatives named Tolkien, therefore I don't own anything. Except for a few plotlines and the great idea that popped into my head during class in my first year. So remember this: I OWN NOTHING! Which unfortunately also means I don't have any money (really I don't!), and I don't make any off this either, so don't sue.

Well, as some of you know, I said I wouldn't post this until it was finished, or at least a long way ahead. The fact of the matter is, I only finished three chapters yet... But I was really anxious to find out what all you great LotR-fans / fanfic writers thought about my story. Soooo, I couldn't resist and had to put up the first chapters. I'll apologise beforehand, because I'm a slow writer. You'll probably get the first four, maybe five chapters within a week of each other, after that, I can give no guarantees. I have an extremely annoying muse that only gives fresh ideas, never ideas to finish 'old' stories. Maybe I should hire a plot bunny instead...

I guess this is AU, because I let Gilraen die along with Arathorn. I'm no Middle-Earth expert, nor fluent in Elvish, so bear with me and feel free to correct me if you discover mistakes. Just bring it nicely and no flames.

Well, here it is... and please please please let me know how you like this so far!

Eternal Darkness

It had been a nice week for a hunting trip. Deer were running along in abundance, these last few days before the snowfall would start. Before long, the hunting party had caught all they needed to survive the coming winter in comfort. A part of the group had left in the morning with most of their catch. Three had remained a few days longer to enjoy the peace and quiet of nature. They set up camp for the night. Tomorrow they would head home to Imladris.

Now that there was no longer need for silence, the woods were filled with Elvish laughter. And a rather hurt Man. There was nothing wrong physically with Aragorn, mind you, but his pride sure had a nice dent.

"I would not have missed if that stone that oh so mysteriously fell from the sky had not landed on my wrist," said the young man, called Estel by the Elves. He shot a dark glare at his adopted brother, Elladan.

Elrohir, Elladan's slightly younger twin brother, failed to hold back a snicker.

"And I would not have missed a second later, had there not been a certain Elf yelling 'The sky is falling' precisely the same moment I released the arrow," Estel continued, this time glaring at his other foster brother.

"My dear brother, if you want to become a skilled archer, you have to be able to tune out unimportant things, and focus only on your enemies," explained Elrohir.

"I always tune you two out, but that does not do me any good if you shout directly into my ear."

"Stop it, you two," Elladan interrupted. "It's obvious that a Man's eyesight is so bad compared to an Elf's, that they can't properly aim at an Oliphaunt from three feet away."

"Laugh all you want. I will show you that I'm as good an archer as both of you." The young man, used to the endless teasing, turned and headed into the forest to gather some wood.

"Wait for us, Estel. You humans are nearly blind in the dark." Elladan motioned to his twin to follow.

"Stop worrying, Elladan," said Aragorn whose eyesight is in fact far better than that of other Men. "The moon is out, I can see well enough."

The moment he said that, the forest turned dark and the moon disappeared behind ominous storm clouds.

Before they could wonder at the sudden appearance of the clouds, lightning struck between Aragorn and the twins.

The two elves were knocked into a nearby tree and lost consciousness almost immediately.

Aragorn was launched in the opposite direction. As he flew backwards, his head connected solidly to a low-hanging branch before the man dropped to the ground.

For a few minutes, Aragorn lay there with his eyes closed, trying to get some air into his lungs and rid himself of the dwarves hacking their way through his brains. The first mission was successful; the second, an utter failure.

When at last he opened his eyes, he found out that it was still dark. He could see nothing at all. He was worried about his brothers, for he couldn't see nor hear them. He crawled in the direction he thought his brothers were in, but couldn't find them.

"Elladan! Elrohir! Where are you?" called Aragorn. No response. "El'? Please, answer me."

Finally he realised he couldn't even see their dim glow. It must be my eyes. I'm probably still blinded by the lightning. He did not want to consider the other option, that the twins were dead or dying.

He knew that a village was only a few hours from where they had set up camp, so he decided to head there and get help.

For hours, Aragorn stumbled and occasionally crawled through the woods. The moon had come out again and Estel could see vague shadows now, but it was still extremely fuzzy.

At last he came to a well-worn path. Even with his vision, he could discern where he was by observing some distinct landmarks.

To his horror, he found out that he had been heading in the wrong direction, away from the village and further from his home than before.

As he started down the path, he prayed to the Valar that his brothers were safe and heading for Rivendell this very moment. After a few steps, however, his headache became intolerable and with a small cry, Aragorn fell to the ground. The world started turning around him and before long, he descended into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Legolas was glad to be heading for Rivendell. The Mirkwood Prince was looking forward to seeing the twin sons of Lord Elrond again. The true reason for his visit was not a joyful matter, though. The Mirkwood elves were worried about a new evil about and he was sent by his father to seek counsel in Imladris.

Along with Fëasúl and Adrûth, he made his way through the woods. When they rounded a bend, they saw a bundle of clothes on the ground.

"Look here," said Adrûth. "It's a man. He's probably drunk and passed out on the path. Stupid humans."

"I don't know," said Fëasúl. "He doesn't smell like he's had a drink."

"Well, however he got to be here, I do not care about a filthy human. Let us continue. We have more pressing matters to attend to." Legolas took one look at the man on the ground and moved on. His companions followed, although Fëasúl did so hesitantly.

Pain. That was the first thing that came to mind when Aragorn regained consciousness. He tried to open his eyes and found that it was still dark. Pitch-black, actually. He could hear voices, though. Where there are people, there should be some light around. He moved his head to look around, but was stopped by an intense pain in the back of his head. He couldn't stop a slight moan from escaping his lips.
When he heard the moan, Fëasúl called for his friends and turned back to the human.

"Leave him alone, Fëasúl. Don't waste your time on a drunk. He's not worth it," said Legolas.

"He's not drunk, he's hurt. He needs help," said Fëasúl as he knelt next to the human.

The pain blocked out all his senses. He didn't notice the other beings until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He started at the touch and was again hit by the headache.

"Relax, we are here to help you," a voice said. "What happened?"

"Lightning... head hurts," Aragorn managed to get out.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Aragorn opened his eyes but saw nothing. "Can't see, too dark."

"What are you talking about," said a new voice, "it is an hour past dawn."

To prove his point, the clouds overhead broke up and Aragorn felt the warmth of the sun on his face.

Finally realisation dawned upon him. He was blind. With a little help, he managed to sit up. For minutes he just sat there, staring at his hands, but not seeing them. When the headache subsided a bit, the panic set in.

"What use am I if I'm blind? I can't go anywhere, can't help anyone. I cannot even help myself in this state!" In frustration he smashed his fists to the ground.

"Come," said the first voice. "Let us take you to the nearest village; we will see what happens after you've rested a bit."

"Fëasúl," said the second voice, "we have our own matters to attend to. We don't have time for this."

"Then you and Adrûth go ahead, I won't leave him here." The one now identified as Fëasúl helped Aragorn to his feet.

As he stood there swaying on his feet, he felt he should be remembering something. "My brothers! They were with me when the lightning struck. I have to find them!"

"How do you expect to find them if you cannot even see?" said the still nameless voice.

"I'll find a way. They could be hurt! I have to help them!"

"Legolas..." said Fëasúl.

"All right," sighed Legolas. "Fëasúl, you're the best tracker. See if you can backtrack his path and find his brothers. Adrûth, go on ahead and deliver the message. I'll take this one to the village."

"Thank you," said Aragorn.

"What's your name?" asked Legolas.

"I am called Strider."

"Well, Strider, Fëasúl will find your brothers, he's a good tracker. Come, hold on to my quiver and follow me."

Aragorn felt someone gripping his wrist and place it on a leather strap of a quiver. He wanted nothing more than go back home, but he knew it would take days to reach Rivendell, especially in his current state. The best thing he could do now was follow this Legolas to Oramon, the nearest village.

After nearly an hour of stumbling, Aragorn felt the stranger in front of him come to a sudden stand-still as he bumped into his back.

When Legolas didn't move or make a sound, the man started to sense something was wrong. Only he just didn't know what.

"What is it? Why have you stopped?" whispered Aragorn to his companion.

"Be quiet! Do not make a sound and maybe you will hear them," whispered Legolas irritated.

It didn't take long before Aragorn's sharp hearing took in the sounds ahead of him; the sounds of battle. Only it did not sound like a fair battle. He heard women and children screaming, men shouting for their families to run away and hide. And the growls of orcs.

"Orcs are attacking the village! We must help them!"

"You stay here; you are of no use to them in your current state. No!" interrupted Legolas before Aragorn could voice his complaint. "The orcs will see you are unable to defend yourself and gang up on you. You won't stand a chance. Stay!"

Reluctantly, Aragorn nodded and let go of Legolas' quiver. He followed Legolas to the edge of the clearing where the village stood.

While Aragorn stayed hidden behind a tree, he heard Legolas fire an arrow into the frenzy and run towards the village. From the volume of the noise, the man gathered there were about a dozen orcs in the village. He hoped his companion was good enough to fight them off.

Within minutes the sounds lessened as the orcs were killed off one by one. From the right, however, he heard more sounds as half a dozen more orcs crept toward the village.

"Legolas!" shouted Aragorn, but his warning was drowned out by the roars of the orcs as they started their rush toward Legolas.

For a few anxious moments Aragorn waited, but when he heard an orc shout in victory, he hesitated no longer, but scrambled onto the clearing, unsheathing his sword and shouting to get the orcs' attention.

It worked. He heard some of the orcs head toward him. He only hoped he had given Legolas the opportunity to get free again. If not, they were both in big trouble.

He concentrated on his attackers, using his other senses to compensate for his disadvantage.

Hearing one of the beasts advancing in full speed, he easily sidestepped and felt resistance as his sword cut off the head of his attacker.

A grunt to his left warned him that another scimitar was heading in his direction. Unable to see whether the orc tried to behead him or cleave him in two, the man ducked and rolled to the side and plunged his sword into the body. The feeling of the sword glancing off a rib and the gurgling sound coming from the creature told him he had struck true and that it was dying.

With the exercise, his headache returned, and before long he heard nothing apart from the blood rushing by his ears.

The battle had started out well enough for Legolas. Of the thirteen orcs, six were already dead, struck by the elf's arrows. As he closed in, he slung his bow on his back and reached for his knives. He twisted around the first orc, slashing at it with his left hand, while his right cut the throat of a second.

Ducking away from the orc scimitar he spotted from the corner of his eye, he brought one of his blades up into the abdomen of another. Turning on his knees, he plunged his second blade into the chest of the orc holding the scimitar he had just avoided.

The three remaining orcs held their distance for a few moments. Eyeing them warily, Legolas slowly advanced upon them. Suddenly, roaring from behind distracted the elf. The elf was sure he heard someone shouting his name, but as he turned to see how many new arrivals there were, he felt a blow to the back of his head.

Slightly stunned, he turned around and felled the orc that hit him. Warding of another blow, he struck his blade into the neck of one of the remaining orcs. All of a sudden he felt a weight at his back as he was pushed face-down into the dirt, his arms pinned by the orc on his back.

A shout of victory sounded across the clearing. Moments later, Legolas heard a man shouting. It was Strider. What is that foolish human doing? He can't fight off those orcs!

Behind him, he felt the orc holding him down loosing his grip slightly. The elf immediately grabbed this opportunity to twist around and slam his knife into its head. Rolling free, he struck down two orcs at once and charged towards the remaining orc, neatly chopping off the foul creature's head.

Legolas turned just in time to see Strider fall down on his knees, clutching his head between his hands. Two orcs lay dead next to him, but a third was raising its scimitar above the man's head. "Strider! Look out!" shouted the elf as he threw one of his knives at the orc.

Through the pounding in his head and the noise of rushing blood, Aragorn sensed something was wrong. He raised his head and instinct took over as his arm raised his sword of its own accord. He was surprised when he felt something meet his sword, but didn't have time to ponder over it as he felt the weight of the orc fall down on him.

Panic started to set in as he was pushed down. It took him a moment to realise that the orc on top of him didn't move anymore. He pushed the body off himself and lay there with his eyes closed, collecting his breath and willing his head to return to its normal state of functioning.

He started when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Easy Strider, it is I, Legolas. I feared you had passed on. Are you alright?"

"I am fine, apart from the dwarves in my head who seem to have degraded to cave trolls."

"That was a foolish thing you did just then. But you probably did save my life and that of the villagers."

"And you mine when you felled this orc. It was you, was it not?"

"Aye, it was my knife that took down the orc. But I feared I was too late when I saw the scimitar go down. How did you know?"

Aragorn thought back to the end of the battle. How had he known? "I don't know. I think it was a reflex, but to what I know not. My headache had become so bad I couldn't hear anything."

"Come, let's get you to an inn and have someone look at that head of yours."

"No, first we have to see to the villagers."

"How? I am no healer, I doubt you're a healer and if you were, how can you help anyone without being able to see?"

"I am a healer, and I was taught by the best. You can be my eyes, and with my other senses we can do a lot for these people."

"Alright," conceded Legolas. "But don't push your limits."

After two and a half hours the two, with the help of Raegon, the only healer of the village, had finally managed to tend to all survivors.

Legolas guided the blind man to a nearby bed - one of the few that were still unoccupied - and ordered him to lie down.

Exhausted by the events of the last three hours, Aragorn collapsed onto the bed and held his head as if he expected it to roll off with the next small gust of wind.

"You look terrible, you know that?" Legolas told him.

"Were I able to see you, I would most likely be saying the same to you," retorted Aragorn.

"Trust me, my boy," said Caera, ignoring the mock scowl Aragorn shot in roughly her direction, for calling him 'a boy'. The innkeeper's wife approached the bed with two bowls of steaming hot soup. "You look like you've been overrun by a horde of hill trolls."

"Funny," said Aragorn, "that's exactly how I feel."

"Then perhaps some soup will do you good. Do you need help?"

Shooting another glare, this time in the general direction of a snickering Legolas, the man shook his head. "Thank you, but no. Once I have succeeded in locating my spoon, I should be able to feed myself."

"Worry not, I will make sure he doesn't spill his soup all over your inn," said Legolas.

As the woman left for the kitchens, Aragorn hovered his hand above the hot soup, lowering it in small circles, attempting to find his spoon this way.

"You shall not find it in your soup, for it is next to your plate," whispered Legolas softly, guiding the blind man's hand to the spoon.

Before Aragorn could express his thanks for, or annoyance at, Legolas' help, the exceptionally cheerful voice of Raegon broke in.

"There you are! Did I not tell you I wanted to look you over? Ah, you're eating dear Caera's famous soup. Wonderful, it will do you good. Now, after you finish your soup - and be sure to finish it all - you come and see me. I wish to have a look at those eyes and that head of yours. Have I already thanked you for your help? Well, I'm sure I have, but I thank you again. I would be working until dawn if it hadn't been for the two of you. I cannot imagine having to take care of all those villagers all by myself. Well, I have to be off. Don't forget to come by!" And with a wave of his hand he left the inn.

"Eh," said Legolas, who had moved aside a bit to avoid Raegon's flailing arms, "hello, good to see you again, farewell. Well, you heard the man, Strider, finish your soup so we can pay him a visit."

"You cannot be serious. If I didn't already have a headache, I would get one by spending more than five seconds with hìm."

Chapter one completed! Let me know what you think :)