3) Blood in the Marsh

Legolas did not understand what the man or creature was referring to and he didn't answer. He let his arrow go instead. He didn't hear it fly, and the dark figure in front of him did not buckle. He seemed to have some how missed the creature or the creature ducked with unprecedented speed. The elf was unfamiliar with both options and so stood perplexed, another arrow already ready in his hands to try again.

"Who are you? Why are you attacking us?" The panic was quietly rising in the elf as black was beginning to close off the sight at the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, two orcs came up from behind the stranger and pinned Legolas' arms behind his back. (He could tell they were orcs by smell alone.) "You coward!" The prince coughed out, frustration overwhelming his voice.

"Stop." The stranger said and the orcs tried to hold Legolas perfectly still. The stranger bent to his face. "Coward? Me? I think not, young prince." The stranger's head turned then and looked off out of Legolas' vision and he suspected that Aragorn was calling to him.

Too much was going on that Legolas couldn't sense! "What do you want!"

"Your father should have really awarded you better bodyguards. This ranger fellow is easily overwhelmed. Yes, more bodyguards. A prince, after all. . . Thranduil also should have cultured your love for fine and dangerous music." The stranger couldn't hold back a horrible cackle. "More perplexed than ever? Well, it matters not. You won't be around to make use of any knowledge I could give you." The stranger nodded to the orcs. Legolas felt his sleeve pushed up and something wet was rubbed along his arm with rough clawed hands. He tried to wiggle away, but he was too weak for them.

Aragorn fought all the harder when Legolas' incapable form was surrounded. But there were too many orcs. It seemed as though they had come out of nowhere. He chided himself for not detecting the attackers earlier. Now his weakened friend was suffering for it. He slashed and hacked, but there were just too many. He could see the elf's blonde hair glistening in the darkness, but the rest of the prince was hidden behind a swarm of orcs and another who appeared to be a man. Aragorn began to fight his way towards them when he was caught from behind and whacked over the back of the head with the handle of a broad battle-axe. He crumpled and lost all consciousness under a shrivelled oak.

Legolas continued to wriggle and writhe as his enemies jeered at him. Then, to his surprise, the orcs released him. His first instinct was to run, but he could not see and could hear nothing that did not happen directly beside him. He felt the man's soft hands grasp him by the shoulders and move him out towards the middle of the dried marsh where there were no trees. His captor rubbed Legolas' arm where the wet had touched him before.

They've poisoned me! He thought.

"Five, " the man began to count, stroking his arm in that same spot. "Four,"

Legolas began to fear the worst.

"Three…"

He felt ridiculous, standing deaf, blind and dumb in the middle of a marsh at the complete mercy of an evil stranger.

"Two…"

Where was Estel! Legolas clenched in terrified anticipation.

"One… Open your eyes, Prince." The man sounded loud and clear.

Legolas slowly opened his eyes. The moonlit swamp came into sharp and crisp view. His perfect vision was back. He could hear the soft rustling of the grass some one hundred feet away. He was himself again. Instinctively, his first thought was to go for his bow and quills, but it seemed that the orcs had relieved him of them.

"Why have you done this?" He demanded. "You have some how taken all of my senses, only to give them back to me at no reward." At last, his captor came into view. He had a strong jaw line, developed lips, bottomless black eyes and a mane of black hair hanging down.

"I needed you vulnerable enough to get you before me. But I wanted you to see me when I killed you…." With no more warning than this, the stranger ran his sword through Legolas' torso until a good foot of it stuck out of his back.

"Huucck!" A bloody cough escaped the elf's lips. His eyes were wide and clear as he took in the falling countryside. He fell to his knees with a whoosh. Somehow, his hands had become covered with his own blood. His only thought was to get the sword out, but it was a physical impossibility – the right leverage unavailable with the sword in him, his arms too short. His captor received no attention, as, within moments, the trees began to scream, tremors went through the grass roots, bugs came out of the soil, and the elven prince died on the salty dead grass.

TBC

(Those that put up with short chapters in the present will be rewarded in the future...Wow, I'm sounding like a fortune cookie.)

Note: One more thing -if you are a die-hard Legolas fan like I am, you've probablyread this chapter and are now thinking, "Well why would I keep reading now that he's dead?" I know what you mean. I usually stop reading after there is a character death. But don't worry. I promise that everything will be okay. Just keep reading and have faith. :D