The War of Light and Shadow

By Freddie23

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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

Thanks to everyone who dropped by to leave a review. I very much appreciate receiving them (especially as I have been plagued by the dreaded Writer's Block!) Anyway, here is chapter 26 for you. Enjoy.

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Chapter 26 – All For Nothing

Aragorn sat upon a pile of fallen bricks, his legs spread in front of him, watching the group of Men as they surreptitiously watched him in return. They did not seem overly wary of him or angry at his unexpected appearance amongst them; they merely seemed curious. And yet not one of them dared approach. Almost all of them bested him in size, weight and age and yet they would not take the initiative to ask about him and his guardian. Why, Aragorn did not know. Surely they could not be afraid of him. They looked fairly worldly; like they had seen much in their time in the Rangers. It didn't seem like they would scare easily. Not that Aragorn particularly wanted their attention. Men he did not know made him deeply uncomfortable and he had no wish to get involved with them if they might possibly pose a threat. So, he continued to sit in awkward silence waiting for Legolas' return and they continued to watch him.

His guardian was gone for almost two whole hours before at last Aragorn saw him walking back with the leader of the Rangers keeping pace at his side. It was impossible to tell the outcome of those two hours from either beings' demeanour though. Legolas looked neither especially happy nor overly disappointed but Aragorn expected nothing more from his taciturn minder.

The Rangers all leapt to their feet when their leader returned to the more sheltered part of the ruins, whether out of respect or curiosity as to what had transpired Legolas did not know or care.

Kinnale said nothing at first, simply looked at each one of his men in turn. Then his eyes came to rest on Aragorn, who moved slowly to stand next to Legolas in order to feel at least a little more protected.

"Sir, what…?" one of the men started to ask, the first brave enough to break the silence.

The commander held up his large hand to halt the question and any further ones from his people. He then walked slowly up to Aragorn, unreadable grey eyes never leaving him as he approached. The boy shifted uncertainly on his feet as he was scrutinised thoroughly by the tall Human. Only Legolas' firm hand settled upon his shoulder kept him from moving away under the curious attention. After a while though, Kinnale's weathered features softened and he stepped closer still to the nervous young man. Aragorn looked up at him, intimidated by his authority and physical height.

For a moment, the air turned tense and even Legolas, despite now being certain of the man's conviction, stiffened in readiness to defend Aragorn if the need arose.

However, Kinnale slowly reached out to take Aragorn's hand and shook it gently in greeting before bowing his head in respect to the young man.

"My lord," he greeted with a small smile filled with warmth and respect.

Aragorn looked up at Legolas with startled eyes but the Elven prince simply nodded calmly to him. He had suspected this. A little warning might have been nice though, Aragorn thought.

"You have our unswerving allegiance," Kinnale continued in a strong voice so that his fellow Rangers could hear, which of course caused murmurs of confusion and unrest amongst the surprised men. "To whatever end," he added more calmly, more sedately. It meant much to both Legolas and Aragorn, he could see and he nodded softly as if cementing his conviction in his own mind and in Legolas' eyes.

There was another long silence as Aragorn simply stared at the commander of the Rangers. Legolas did not intervene this time though – no matter how much his ward may have wished it – knowing that Aragorn must deal with this oath by himself. These were his people now after all.

"Thank you, sir," Aragorn eventually managed to squeeze out of his constricted throat.

Kinnale released his hand and stepped back, apparently expecting nothing more from this first meeting, then continued softly, "Your guardian has explained everything to me, all of your plans, and although they seem…wild to say the least, we will stand with you, my King."

This time the Rangers burst into a flurry of unrestrained questions and shouts of surprise and disbelief at the title their leader had just used with regard to the strange, shy young man new to their group.

Kinnale had no patience for such discord in that moment, however, and turned sharply on them to shout, "Silence! All will be explained to you shortly but for now we must see to our new friends; they are much in need of food and rest, it looks like."

Legolas protested at this, stepping forward again and reminded, "We ask nothing from you and your men, Kinnale."

"Nonsense. I will hear no protest. You must eat with us. We carry little but what we have is our honour to share with you."

This promised caused yet more looks of disbelief and plenty mumbles of protest amongst his Rangers but this time they were ignored completely. Kinnale had given the order, and in his mind they should need no more.

"Then we thank you," Legolas smiled, genuinely grateful for the offer.

The man smiled in return, cast one last strange look in Aragorn's direction then strode over to join his men, who still stood around in stunned silence.

"Some introductions are in order now, I think." Kinnale moved to one of the men stood at the front of the perplexed grouping and clapped him on the back, successfully bringing him from his thoughts with a start. "Janor – my second in command." The young blonde man nodded politely in greeting, pale green eyes shining kindly in spite of his obvious uncertainty about the pair.

Kinnale moved on then to a slim, dark-haired man, shorter even than Aragorn, and introduced him as, "My tracker, Kalub. And my chief scout, Tarsem," he then said of a tall, red-haired man. "And this," he continued with a broad smile as he slung one arm over the shoulders of a young man, easily the youngest amongst them, "is my son, Ciaran." The child – and he was a child, sixteen years at the very oldest – bore a striking resemblance to his father, although he lacked the height and muscle of the older man.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Legolas smiled thinly at them as Aragorn once again discreetly moved to partially hide behind him, letting him take the lead again. Given his ward's past unpleasant experiences with the race of Men it was perhaps not surprising that he was anxious now to be stood amongst so many of them. For now, Legolas did not mind being placed front and centre if it smoothed the way with the Rangers. There would be plenty of time to persuade Aragorn to warm to these men later when things had settled down some. "I have no doubt that your men are curious to know of your decision, Kinnale, and you have much to explain to them. This will no doubt be easier without our presence to confuse things. We will go to fetch some wood for your fire whilst you talk," Legolas told the commander, his hand going to Aragorn's shoulder blade in preparation to usher him away from the camp.

"I thank you, Prince Legolas." Another murmur rose up amongst the Men at the title being used now by their leader. And although Aragorn felt Legolas flinch at its use, the Elf made no protest even though it was clear to Aragorn that he still despised the use of it as much as he had done when Erestor had insisted upon using it in Rivendell. "The time would be much appreciated; there is indeed a lot to discuss."

Legolas nodded then applied a small amount of pressure to his back in order to move Aragorn forward. "Come, Aragorn."

They left the campsite amidst the ancient ruins of Amon Sul to walk the same path that Legolas had led Kinnale down for privacy earlier. As soon as they were out of earshot of the Rangers, Aragorn asked eagerly of his guardian, "So, what did he say?"

"You just heard: he swore allegiance to you."

"But there must have been more. He must have had questions, concerns."

"He did."

"And?"

"And nothing. I answered them all as truthfully as I deemed necessary and he agreed to aid in our cause."

"That's it?"

"Yes." Legolas glanced briefly across at him, an odd look coming to his eyes, unreadable before turned his gaze back to the path and quickened his pace down the hill seemingly to escape the boy's understanding.

Aragorn's steps faltered for a moment, however. Something just didn't feel right about this. "You're lying," he accused suddenly and rather more harshly than he'd intended, jogging after the Elf to catch him up.

"I beg your pardon?" Legolas whirled on his charge in anger at the accusation.

"You heard me! I can always tell when you're concealing something from me; it shows in your eyes."

Legolas sighed heavily but didn't take the bait as Aragorn had hoped he would. Instead, he turned on the spot and strode away, effectively affirming that what Aragorn accused was true. He missed so much the days when he could easily outpace the young Aragorn in order to escape the curious child entrusted to him. Now though Aragorn could effortlessly keep up with him. There was no escape from the young man's questions. "You have your army, Aragorn; that's all you need to know."

"Not my army. This was your idea; this is your plan, not mine. It's your army, Legolas. I never had a say in the matter if you recall."

"But you…you wanted this!"

"No! You wanted this."

"Me? If I had my way, we would never have left the Old Forest Road. You wanted to leave. You wanted more."

"Yes, I may have wanted more, but never this! Going to war against the greatest known force on Middle Earth and all that can help us is an unruly band of twenty Rangers who can't even secure a camp properly, and a washed-up, exiled prince!"

Breathing hard through his anger, fists clenched tightly at his sides, Aragorn stood directly before his loyal guardian fuming, longing for Legolas to retaliate, to come up with some hateful, resentful retort that would provoke him even further, making his anger entirely justifiable. But Legolas, blue eyes oddly softened by the thoughtless words shouted at him, simply stared down at the young man before him, not angry but, worse, hurt.

Slowly, Aragorn felt the heat of his anger cool and guilt swept into its place. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg forgiveness but before the words could come, a reluctant voice came from behind him and he span angrily to see Kinnale waiting awkwardly a few feet away.

"I'm sorry; I'm interrupting," the man apologised realising what he had just walked in on.

Again Aragorn went to speak but Legolas beat him to it, replying softly, "Not at all." He walked past his open-mouthed charge without further comment.

"My men would like to meet you both properly."

Legolas glanced back at Aragorn as he walked, then said, "Of course."

Without waiting for the boy to follow, Legolas made his way back up the hill and Kinnale caught up with him quickly, shooting Aragorn a curious look over his shoulder to where the boy remained watching them go, appearing slightly stunned himself.

"Everything alright?" the Ranger asked, attempting nonchalance, as he strode along with Legolas.

"Fine. He'll catch us up."

"Right."

After almost five minutes of trying to work out what had just transpired between him and his normally level-headed guardian, Aragorn traipsed slowly back up the slope towards the ruins of the great Watchtower where the Rangers and Legolas were now gathered around a fire over which was hung a pot of boiling water. When he came into their sight, all but the Elf leapt to their feet in such haste that hot water was spilled from the cups they held and a string of curses that Aragorn had never heard before in his life were uttered before guilty silence fell again over the group.

One man, Aragorn vaguely recalled him being named by Kinnale as the second in command Janor, finally took the initiative and asked his superior in a low, uncertain voice, "Do we have to bow or something?"

"Uh…" The Ranger seemed unsure himself and looked first to Aragorn who could offer him no answer as he stood nervously in front of the gathered men and then to Legolas who more helpfully shook his head. "No," Kinnale replied now certain.

"Thank the gods for that!"

"But be respectful," Kinnale reprimanded sharply.

"Yes sir."

Another awkward silence descended over the ruins. All the Men involved grew increasingly uncomfortable through the quiet. Legolas made no effort this time to rescue Aragorn; pointedly, it seemed, refusing to interfere. Aragorn resented him a little for that, although he knew deep down that it was not done out of malice but rather because the Elf had been deeply hurt by his earlier sharp words, so perhaps it was forgivable.

"Aragorn," Kinnale announced unnecessarily loudly to break the tense hush. "I'm sure we'll all be on our best behaviour around our two newest friends."

Nods of agreement came from most of the men, although still none of them proved brave enough to approach the nervous young man that moments ago Kinnale had astoundingly dubbed 'future King of Men' before them.

Kinnale quickly grew uncomfortable with the quiet – Legolas mused that all Men must be equally desirous to keep the conversation flowing rather than to simple bask in the wonderful reflective silence that the Elves had always respected so much when they walked the earth – and became the only one amongst them brave enough to again break the silence. "Come and sit, Aragorn, and have something to eat with us."

It broke the ice between them and Aragorn nodded gratefully, letting the man lead him through the other Humans to the fire. He took a place on the opposite side of the fire to Legolas but the Elf bowed his head to the ground to purposefully avoid his gaze. Really the young man wanted nothing more than to pull his guardian aside so he could apologise privately for his earlier cruel words. However, it was not to be as he was almost immediately surrounded by Rangers, all suddenly eager to get to know him now that their leader had shown friendship towards the young man.

Seeing Aragorn fairly happily engrossed with his own kind, Legolas got to his feet, picking up his bag containing all his weapons. As he passed by a smiling Kinnale, he gripped the man's arm and said softly, "Make sure that he eats something."

"Where are you going?" the Ranger asked, turning to the guardian of their future king.

"To patrol the perimeter. I'll return before nightfall."

"You know we have men to do that," Kinnale called after him but Legolas either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, as he strode purposefully away.

Aragorn desperately wanted to follow after Legolas but he doubted he would get past the crowd of Rangers before the Elf disappeared. So, he settled for simply listening to the Men, his disappointment at Legolas' leaving him again having to take a back seat for the time being.

Night fell on the Rangers' camp but whilst the other men laid down to sleep after their rather satisfying meal, Aragorn reclined on his back on the stone ground, remaining wide awake in spite of his continued efforts to doze off. The source of his sleeplessness lay with his guardian. Legolas had still not returned from his patrol around the hill and his absence was making Aragorn increasingly anxious with every passing hour.

Sighing in resignation, Aragorn sat up, shoving his blanket off himself in annoyance that he had finally been forced into giving up trying to sleep. His mind was simply too busy to rest now. So instead of torturing himself trying futilely to get to drift off, he got up, stepping softly around the men laid out on the ground, covered in their own blankets, oblivious to the sleepless one moving amongst them.

"Big day for you, eh?"

Aragorn startled at Kinnale's booming voice breaking the deep quiet and he looked to the fire before which the Ranger was sat. Recovering himself, Aragorn answered haltingly, "Uh, yes, I suppose so."

The older man smiled knowingly. "Yep."

Aragorn glanced again out into the darkness beyond the camp then turned back to Kinnale and asked, "Has Legolas come back yet?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll return soon. He doesn't seem like the type to stay away for long."

"I made him angry. I said some things…"

"Parents always forgive the harsh words of their children," Kinnale told him dismissively, reaching for a flask at his side. "Drink?" he offered Aragorn, holding out the flask.

"Thank you." Aragorn took the small flask and, without even thinking what he was doing, took a long drink. The potent liquid burned his throat and chest as he swallowed and he found himself choking and spluttering in the aftermath of the – not entirely unpleasant – feeling.

Kinnale reached over and patted Aragorn helpfully on the back, laughing deeply at the response the liquor had provoked. "Your first real drink?" Aragorn nodded, swallowing another cough. "It's the men's homemade liquor."

"It's nice," Aragorn gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he passed the flask back to Kinnale. "And Legolas isn't my father."

"He behaves like it."

Aragorn scoffed in semi-amusement. "He really doesn't. Sometimes I actually think he hates me. And the thought of me being his child would probably send him spiralling into depression."

"Nah, I don't see hatred in his eyes when he looks at you."

"No? Then what do you see?"

"I see great compassion."

"You think?"

"I know. Take it from a father." He took a swig from the flask of strong alcohol, not so much as flinching at its strength. "If he didn't care for you then he wouldn't be here. Anyone who is willing to take the kinds of risks he has obviously taken is not doing so for someone he cares nothing about."

"When he rescued me from the Orcs as a child I don't think he ever imagined his life would change so much. He didn't know what he would have to give up."

"But it's all for the best."

Aragorn nodded, discreetly wiping at his eyes, which glistened slightly, both from the aftereffects of the alcohol and the renewed emotion. "I just hope he thinks so."

Kinnale patted Aragorn's shoulder with a strong hand. "Don't worry, child. Say your apologies and put it behind you." The man stretched out his long limbs, then, after snatching up the flask, got to his feet, declaring, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Aragorn. Don't stay up too late; we leave early in the morning."

"I'm just going to wait for Legolas to return."

The man nudged Aragorn's arm and the boy turned his head to see the flask being held before his face. "To keep you warm while you wait."

Smiling, Aragorn took the proffered flask and then Kinnale left him alone to his thoughts. He turned his gaze back out to the darkness, his mind set upon waiting for his mentor to return to him before he went to try to sleep again. He sat there for a full hour before he started to grow restless and began tracing his fingers up and down the cool metal of the flask given to him by the human Ranger. He idly unscrewed the top and lifted the flask to take another drink without even thinking.

"You shouldn't drink that poison."

Aragorn startled, spilling some of the potent liquid down the front of his jacket at the sound of his guardian's voice before him. He ignored the spillage, however, and leapt to his feet. "Legolas! You're back."

"Yes." The Elf dropped his pack to the ground then held out his hand for the flask of alcohol.

Without hesitation, Aragorn handed it over with the assurance, "I didn't drink any of it."

Re-screwing the top without bothering to check its potent contents, Legolas sternly noted, "I can smell it on your breath."

Dipping his head at being caught both drinking the draught and lying to his guardian, Aragorn made no further argument. Instead asking of Legolas, "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am."

"You were gone a long time."

"I merely walked around the hill," Legolas told him somewhat shortly.

"The Rangers saved you some food; it's been near the fire so it's still warm." Legolas nodded but made no attempt to move towards the fire to retrieve it. "They're quite good cooks actually," Aragorn laughed awkwardly, hoping the quip might ease the tension. Legolas did not crack a smile, however. "Shall I get you some?"

Legolas' eyes shifted around the campsite, raking across the sleeping Rangers, then he told the boy, "Someone should keep watch tonight."

As soon as the Elf began to walk away, Aragorn stepped in front of him to prevent him from leaving again and offered, "I can keep watch." Perhaps if he could make up for his earlier words then things would improve between them.

The Elf, however, was not going to make it that easy for his Human ward. "Get some sleep; we've a long way to go tomorrow."

Before Aragorn could protest, Legolas turned his back on the dejected young man and left the main site to take up a position for the watch on the outskirts of Amon Sul. Suitably rejected by the Elf he so looked up to, Aragorn walked wearily back to where he'd laid his blanket down and settled on it for a night of broody sulking over the bad atmosphere he had created between them.

OIOI

The rank, stale air hung heavy, cloying around him – so much so that he could hardly stand to breathe it. The black ground was hot beneath his feet as if a fierce fire raged just beneath the bare, tortured surface. All around him were rivers of molten fire, flowing rapidly through cracks and channels in the earth, steam rose to the dark sky above nearly burning him in its intense heat.

And yet despite the landscape, he felt he saw beauty here. Cruel, horrible, macabre beauty. Carefully, he stepped over the molten fissures in the ground, avoiding the dangers that the fiery liquid landscape presented, and made his way towards the source of the throbbing power pulsing relentlessly through his entire being. His feet moved of their own accord even as fear grew in his heart as he steadily approached the towering black fortress from which the enticing energy emanated. He didn't want to enter this place, for surely such power could only be forged by the Shadow, and yet he could not stop himself.

As he proceeded through the enormous black, metal-studded doors, he felt a sudden weight resting atop his head and he shakily raised his fingers to caress the familiar metal of the crown of Gondor. It felt strange, out of place and yet at the same time as if it had always been there. It was a symbol of what he was: the hope of the world and despite its odd familiarity it was a heavy burden to have to bear alone.

His feet sounded terribly loud in the vast hollow entrance to the Tower of Shadow, fortress of Sauron the Deceiver, Barad-dur, for that was where he now stood; it was unmistakable even to one who had never before set foot inside. He was afraid but he drew on the courage resting dormant in his heart to make his legs continue to move, propelling him forward to whatever end awaited him.

The stench of Evil was near unbearable as he drew closer to the epicentre of the immense power that drove the army of Shadow and he found himself almost gagging, choking on it. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he continued onwards, now acutely aware of the heavy, reassuring weight of Anduril in his hand. The weapon of kings thrummed in his hand with its own, very different power, and he felt its cold longing to shed Enemy blood – or perhaps that came from him and not the blessed but inanimate metal of his blade re-forged.

Power reeking of Shadow suddenly receded from the torch-lit corridors of the Tower of Sauron and he found himself momentarily able to draw breath, only for it to be replaced by a crushing feeling of horror and sorrow. The emotion stopped him in his tracks and his hand moved from his mouth to instead rest above his heart, which beat wildly in his chest. Terror undiluted gripped him. He turned instinctively to his right where stood a small wooden door; unassuming for sure and yet he feared what lay in the room beyond. Did the Master of Darkness himself reside beyond that thin plank of wood? Was the foul, rotten heart of Mordor really so close at hand?

As he reached out for the handle, he did not feel compelled to ready Anduril for battle. No, what awaited him was not a test of his battle skill but rather a test of the strength of his heart. It frightened him that his soul might not be strong enough to withstand whatever abhorrence lay inside that room, for no matter what power he yielded, that was an ever-fragile thing.

Turning the handle hesitantly, he pushed open the door and immediately recoiled, retching at the foul stench. Crashing into the wall opposite, he doubled over, his sword clattering to the stone floor and choked on the smell of decay and evil.

Straightening out with renewed determination, he stepped once more up to the door, Anduril lying forgotten on the floor. This time he did not shrink away, his morbid curiosity over-riding his disgust. He had to see what waited for him in the room.

The door creaked as it swung on ancient hinges but opened smoothly nonetheless to reveal the horrors beyond.

The floor was painted red with fresh blood; it covered every flagstone, every wall. A massacre had occurred here. Piled on either side of the small room were countless bodies, some fresh and bloody, others already rotting, and Aragorn felt his legs tremble unsteadily beneath him. Bile rose up in his throat but he resisted the queasy feeling, swallowing thickly.

Placing one foot boldly over the threshold, he very nearly slipped on the slick stone. He grasped the door jamb for support then tried again, more slowly this time. Soon he was steadily, and carefully, making his way along the path between the two piles of bodies. Most of the corpses were indistinguishable, their faces ripped apart or completely torn away by some force of evil. The only thing identifying them at all were the black tunics emblazoned with a silver tree crowned with seven stars – unmistakeably the emblem of Gondor. These poor souls were Men; Rangers, Aragorn knew instinctively. His own people.

Aragorn paused when he glimpsed the faces of Men he recognised. Lying amongst the slaughtered were the leader of the Rangers of the North, Kinnale, and his young son. The loyal scout and tracker lay nearby, their bodies torn apart, yet their faces remained intact as though to purposefully torment him with their identities.

Dizziness assailed him and he desperately fought back the darkness that crept towards the centre of his vision; he didn't want to end up lying unconscious amongst the rotting slain. That thought very nearly broke him and he again clamped his hand over his mouth. He wanted to close his eyes, to escape all this horror but he found that he could not.

Continuing along his path, Aragorn headed now for the door on the other side of the room, praying that it did not conceal further nightmares.

Before he could reach the door though, his feet slid underneath him and he crashed to the floor, hands bracing him from falling on his face even though his fingers slipped in the blood. In disgust, he reached up and grasped the handle and wrenched the door open, hoping beyond hope to finally escape the horrors of the Dark Lord's tower.

Beyond the room of blood and death lay something infinitely worse.

He hung in the centre of the otherwise completely bare room, heavy chains were cuffed to wrists, which had been chaffed and cut by the rusting metal all the way to the bone. His thin chest heaved with every breath, the slash wounds that ripped apart his skin tearing painfully with the motion. Blood trickled down his body, dripping from the broken toes that only just scraped the floor. His head was bowed, chin resting on his chest, eyes bruised and closed, lips pale and open partially as he breathed in deeply in spite of the pain the necessary action must have caused.

His eyes wide and filled with tears, the man climbed to his knees and shuffled forwards, one hand stretched out towards the pitiful figure.

"No," he breathed shakily. "No. No. Not this. Please not this."

Bright blue eyes blinked open at the sound of his voice and pale lips parted further as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came so instead the injured, naked being simply shook his head helplessly, a pitiful figure rendered mute by pain.

"Please no." He climbed to his feet having to grasp the door to pull himself upright and keep himself that way. "I'll get you out of here." Determination set grey eyes. This could not happen. Not now. Not to his guardian of all people. He needed the Elf. Selfish desire and sheer horror gave him strength renewed.

"No!" the blonde Elf ground out through his broken jaw, thick blood dripping from between barely parted lips to slide down his chin and join the vast pool that had formed on the floor at his toes.

Ignoring the mumbled warning, he stumbled into the room anyway and reached for the blood-slickened chains that bound the thin chaffed wrists of his long-term mentor but before he could proceed in attempting to free them the flat side of a sword was slapped against his knuckles and he withdrew quickly in the face of the shadow-creature garbed entirely in black who now towered over him menacingly.

Stumbling backwards in an effort to escape, he almost fell against the being that now stood in the doorway waiting for him and he cried out in horror.

"Elessar," the huge, dark figure hissed a word he did not understand.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked in a trembling voice as he fought not to run into the far corner of the room and cower like a child until the creature went away.

"You know."

And he did know. The being reeked of decay and malevolence and his identity was undeniable even to one who had never before set eyes upon him.

Before him stood the ruler of Middle Earth – murderer, dictator, tyrant: Sauron. He was afraid, so afraid that he found he could hardly breathe. But this was what he had come here for, was it not? Confrontation of the Evil he despised so greatly.

"Release him," Aragorn commanded of the Dark Lord.

"Your guardian?"

"Yes. Let him go free."

The black figure cocked its hooded head to one side in question and asked aloud, "If I consent to do as you ask, to release this one precious to you, will you join me, Elessar, join my ranks in the Black Lands?"

He hardly needed to consider it. The answer slipped from his lips without hesitation or thought. "Yes." Ripping the heavy crown of Gondor from his head, he threw it at Sauron's feet, noting for the first time that a black-gloved hand already gripped Anduril tightly. Now the Dark Lord had everything. "Take me in his place, I beg you."

Although he couldn't see beyond the vast black hood, he imagined Sauron smiling underneath. The Dark Lord bent in a stiff movement to pick up the crown then turned his head towards the towering creature still lurking in silence behind where Legolas remained chained. With one single nod, one unspoken command, the Wraith raised its enormous sword and pierced straight through Legolas' unprotected heart.

The prince's final scream mingled with Aragorn's. Both had been betrayed. Aragorn, the hope of Mankind had surrendered to the Shadow. And all for nothing.

To Be Continued…