"You seem to have misunderstood me, elf," the Necromancer. "When I'm done with you, you will have no will. You will fall before me, desperate, pained, soulless. If you dare try to resist me, I will destroy you."
"A fire burns within me, bright and strong. Though it may fall and wither, fuel will revive it once more, and the hot coals will never cool," Legolas said, narrowing his eyes.
"You believe you can overcome me, son of Thranduil?" the Necromancer sounded amused as he spoke. "You are weak. You are nothing. Prepare to fall, princeling."
"You dare to say that to me! You dare to promise the shattering of soul, when you dare not emerge from your cover. Face me, Necromancer! You hide behind your shadows! They follow your will because they have none of their own. You are intoxicated with your power over beings with no will to resist! Can you control a willful being without them ever seeing your face? Emerge, Being in the Shadows! Let me see your face, and then I will, perhaps, fear! Let me know your name, Necromancer, not the title you hide behind! You are too weak to show yourself, instead hiding and biding time. Let me fear you, Necromancer. But know: you will not win. Fearful or not, I shall not give in, never give in. You will do well to know that, Lord of Darkness."
Legolas was breathing hard, each breath heavy as he grew angrier.
"Or are you a lord at all?" Legolas continued. "The shadows obey you; you are not human! But what are you? What is more powerful than a human, but just as scared, just as weak! Dare you hide from your prisoner? Dare you hide from your servants? Do you try to incite fear? Or do you try to keep their respect? You will never have mine, Sorcerer of the Shadows, for I would never follow a being too weak to show who they truly are. You know my name, Necromancer. I did not try to hide from it or deceive you. Who are you; what are you, Controller of Shadow?"
"You have courage, elf, but it will not save you! You will not taunt your way out of danger, son of Thranduil-"
"I do not taunt, and I do not deceive," Legolas snapped. "I will never fear a being hidden in darkness. Step into the light, Necromancer! Show me your face, Being of Shadows! Perhaps I was wrong, and you are human, and that is why you hide, human. You are weak, greedy, foolish. Do you expect to command any free being while you cannot step into the light! Weaponless, I am proud. Despairing, I am strong. I do not give in to the shadows. I do not fall before a being veiled in darkness. Do you fear me, Necromancer? Is that why you hide?"
"Do not speak of me in that way, princeling!" the Necromancer yelled. His voice echoed around Legolas, who spun, trying to find its original source."
"And why not? You will not even show where you stand! Do you fear that I -weaponless, injured - am stronger than you and your darkness? Or do you fear my gaze, Necromancer? Have you ever faced the stare of a free, powerful being? Do you crumble staring into it? Can you break me, Wizard of Darkness? Can I break you?" Legolas fell silent, still breathing heavy, eyes burning with contempt and hate.
The Necromancer's shadows pulsed with hate and fury. Legolas stood still, even as the room reached sweltering temperatures. He did not move, did not struggle against Bolg. The Necromancer did not speak, and Legolas balled his hands into fists.
Bolg, furious at the disrespect for his master threw Legolas to the ground, antagonizing him further as his wounded back hit the hard stone. Legolas did not cry out or show his pain.
He was too angry to give into it. Legolas pulled himself onto his knees, forcing himself off of his back while Bolg tried to keep him down. He knew he could not stand, so he kneeled, forced into a traditional show of submission but nowhere near defeated.
"You cannot even face me alone, Necromancer. Control me with your power! Do not use a slave to hold me still. He cannot stop me! You cannot stop me! Try your best, One of Shadows!"
The Necromancer was silent. The shadows seemed to glare and come ever closer to where Legolas kneeled, Bolg's hands on his shoulders to prevent him from standing.
"You cannot step out!" Legolas spat. "You belong in the shadows, in your darkness! You are like a shadow yourself, Powerful Being of Darkness! You prod and pull, poisoning my land, my forest, with your creatures and dark magic, but you do not defeat us! You do not prevail! Dare you not step into Mirkwood! You captured me so that I could lead your troops! You are too afraid to leave the cover of darkness! You need a free being to even be courageous enough to step out of your own borders!"
The Necromancer's shadows pulsed again, stronger. Legolas could feel the intense heat against him, but the pain did not register in his irate state.
"Bolg," the Necromancer ordered, amazingly calm considering how his magic was hardly under his control. "Leave us."
Bolg hesitated, seeming to make the Necromancer even more furious.
"Leave!" he ordered, and Bolg released Legolas. Legolas pulled himself to his feet, not wasting a second. He stood alone, defiant, not trying to run or hide before the darkness.
Suddenly, the darkness exploded outward, ricocheting into Legolas and throwing him backward. He slammed into the ground, letting out a small cry as small stones imbedded into his torn back. The shadows held him to the ground, keeping him from moving. He struggled, trying to break free from the darkness, but it veiled around him. He could see nothing but the black, hear nothing but the pounding of the shadow's silence in his ears.
Then the Necromancer spoke.
"You do not know who you speak to, elf!" he roared. Legolas opened his mouth to retort, but the shadows choked him, pressing on his chest and preventing him from speaking.
"You pretend to know me! You say I hide in shadow! I am more intelligent than your games! You cannot convince me to reveal myself to you before I am ready! But you do know me. You have heard whispers of my name! Your own father has fought against me, and I nearly enslaved the free people that you so insolently say I fear! Human, you call me! I have twisted humans into wraiths and elves into orcs! I have tortured beings into death and beyond where even the West could not heal them, and they are left in shadow!"
Suddenly, the shadows melted into flames. Legolas stared, eyes wide, unable to breathe as the shadows crushed his chest and held down his body.
The flames twisted into a form. A ring of fire formed into an eye, and Legolas found himself staring into the eye of Sauron the Deceiver.
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Tauriel had been restless. She couldn't stand just riding along, trying to reach Dol Guldur before Legolas was destroyed. It was terrible, and she could not bear the silent wait, even with Fili for company. So she had ridden ahead, telling Fili what she planned to do. He had reminded her to be careful, but the look of compassion and sympathy in his eyes had proved he understood.
Tauriel tuned into what the trees were feeling as she rode along. She had always relied on nature to calm her, but now, even the trees' sympathy and love could not stop her hands from shaking.
They spoke of freedom and hope, but deep down, she could tell that they feared what was to come. Like any being, though simple, the trees could tell that there was darkness breeding in Middle Earth, and it was reaching out over its borders. They were not made to think as other beings do. The trees did not think of good and evil. After all, what would be evil?
Even the fire that destroys trees and plants also gives fertile soil for the forest's rebirth.
The trees hated to see the agony faced by immortal beings. They called out with empathy, trying to heal and save as nature is supposed to.
The tall beings feared and hated the pain caused in Middle Earth. They were meant for peace, and they wished that it would stay that way.
The trees lived for fertile soil and a strong sun. That was all they longed for. Trees were never greedy, never jealous. They never had an ulterior motive. Tauriel loved that about them, and she used to spend hours conversing with them, caressed in their boughs, safe and secure.
Nature was peaceful yet strong. Every part had a purpose. The Eldar fit into their purpose, living among and even in the trees, safe in the branches. Men coexisted with the nature, falling trees to make their cities but respecting it all the same. Dwarves ignored the forest, preferring to burrow deep underground.
The Eldar had never understood that, hence why the races had never quite coexisted together. They were too different.
Orcs and goblins did not fit into nature. The abominations came from the north where land was barren and trees sparse. They had no respect for the knowledge a forest held, and they toppled and destroyed trees and life.
Nature hated no being; she could not hate a living thing, no matter its purpose, but nature also tried to warn her people, the Firstborn, of the other races and their activity. No other race had the connection that elves – especially wood elves - had with nature. Tauriel did not know how she would have made it so far without losing her sanity without the trees to calm her over the centuries.
As she rode on, ahead of Fili and the others, she began to notice a change in the trees. They spoke of intense sadness – no longer whispered of a warning. Worried, Tauriel stopped to listen. They rustled and groaned the story of an injured elf.
Tauriel swallowed hard. She knew they spoke of Legolas. He was hurt. Of course, she had suspected as much – no, she had known he would be hurt – but to hear of its actual happening was terrifying.
She followed the whispers, spinning off the path and going a short distance into the forest. Before long, she came to a clearing that resonated with grief and pain. Dismounting, she stepped towards a large birch in the center of the clearing. She could see that the underbrush was trampled – by wargs, no doubt, and to her horror, she could see the remains of ropes on the tree.
Legolas had been tied there recently. Placing a hand on the tree, she asked the trembling being what had happened. Through simple language – old, traditional, and to-the-point – it spoke of pain and suffering, horror and hurt. It regretted its inability to help and cried out with grief for the tortured elf.
It led her around the trunk. There, on the white bark of the birch, dried blood stained the bark and stones. Tauriel stumbled backwards, not ready to see the clear signs of torture. What had Legolas gone through?
It was so much blood. She could see him – crying for pain, feeling betrayed and alone. Perhaps, he had tried to take comfort in the birch, but the comfort had not prevented him from bleeding out onto the stones.
She turned back, unable to look any longer. Stepping away, she remounted the horse, cantering back to the path. Feeling sick and airy, she decided to wait for the dwarves. Tauriel no longer wanted to find the remnants of torture and suffering or hear the whispers.
She sighed, praying that Legolas would be able to stay strong. Tauriel was coming to save him, and at the very least, she knew she was on the right path.
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Hey, guys! One more chapter for the new year! I was just going to start it, but it kind of wrote itself, especially Legolas' monologues It's really fun to insult Sauron.
Please review! Tell me what you think!
Thanks to all readers and reviewers!
Disclaimer: I do not own! Tolkien owns all!