He was trapped, Legolas looked frantically around for some way of escape, but there was none. The Nazgul had known that the Prince would flee to the open plains where orcs dare not to go. So there they had waited, and now they rode in a tight circle around him, screeching and making other hellish noises.

Legolas knew he had to stay calm and think of a way out, but the presence of the Wraiths was making him uneasy and unable to think. He finally resolved that his only hope was to break their ever tightening circle and run.

"Hi nayes, mellon nin." (This is it, my friend) he whispered to his horse as he tightened his grip on his knives. Suddenly he felt himself jolted forward as his steed galloped as fast as he could toward the ring of Black Riders.

The white horse reared up, his hooves flailing madly at the other horses while Legolas slashed with his knives. Then the ring broke and they galloped through, though before they had made any distance Legolas felt a cold blade slice his skin, the Witch King had thrown his sword with deadly accuracy. The Morgul Blade had embedded itself in the Elf's side, causing him to fall from his horse. The animal, though frightened would not leave the Elf's side. The horse stood between the Prince and the Nine, defending his master.

Though suddenly the Nazgul stopped approaching and just seemed to wait. Then a pack of wargs emerged from the woods, the Nine had expected everything and had everything to deal with it. Though the faithful horse was petrified by the sight of the creatures, he would not flee.

The seven wargs hurled themselves upon the animal, despite Legolas' cries from his helpless position on the ground. The prince inched his way toward one of his knives that had fallen. Holding his side where he was injured, maybe mortally, the Prince gathered all his strength and threw the knife and it landed on its mark, embedded in his horse's head, who died instantly. He would not see the evils of the world find pleasure by making others suffer slowly. He was beyond help now, and he knew it too. Legolas threw stones at the creatures, taunting them to come closer and finish him off.

Thranduil and Melannen sat in the King's library, nervous. Legolas had been gone for nearly a week longer than he should have been. Something was wrong, and both of them knew it. There was a timid knock at the door.

"Come in." Thranduil said slowly.

A warrior came in, tears streaked his face and he held a terrible weight of guilt. "My Lord, your

son . . . . ." he could bring himself to say no more, he had been good friends with the prince longer than he could remember.

Thranduil stood up, "What is wrong with my son? Where is he?"

"We found . . . his horse dead with Legolas' knife in its head and a pool of Elf blood nearby. There were warg tracks everywhere, also nine other horses from what we could tell." Then he pulled something out of his pocket, it was a ring that Thranduil had given his son when the Elf had first become a warrior, and it was stained with blood.

"No!" Melannen shrieked, falling to the floor, her body shaking with violent sobs.

Thranduil had a look of denial on his face, before everything finally made sense. The King had to lean on the wall for support. Why had the Valar sent him back if he was only going to die again? Thranduil took the ring from the warriors outstretched hand.

"I am sorry, my Lord." the young Elf said before he backed out of the room and gently shut the door.