Legolas walked through the room. He could not see through the black, but he could feel Sauron's presence before him. At once, the shadows deserted him, clinging to the stronger force, treacherous and betraying.
Legolas dropped, graceful, poised, looking every bit of the prince he was meant to be, to one knee, bowing before his master.
"My Lord," he said, voice strong and emotionless. There was a laugh. Legolas bowed his head, not seeing the figure laughing as he was veiled in the shadows.
The laugh surrounded him, taunting him, sick with power. He bathed in the sound and its glory, feeling the almighty, unstoppable strength and power.
"How you have fallen, Legolas Thranduilion. You swore defiance and now bow at my feet."
"My Lord," Legolas said, not offended at the words, not caring what he had previously sworn. "I was weak and naïve. Forgive me."
The darkness reached forward, forming something that nearly appeared to be a hand. It reached into Legolas' hair, stroking it and brushing its fingers through it. Legolas leaned into the slight touch, shuddering at the raw power before him.
"You will serve me well, Legolas of Mirkwood, and you will serve me soon. A… rescuer draws near. She will take you to Mirkwood if you allow her to."
"And I will then be in position to destroy it," Legolas said.
"Of course, my servant. Destroy it and its king. You are to rule, Legolas. And you are to conquer."
"Yes, my Lord."
"The she-elf expects you to be injured and broken. She believes you to be as weak as your predecessors. Do not fail me, and do not alert her."
"Of course, my Lord," Legolas said.
"Arrogant!" the Dark Lord spat. "You will fail if you do not attempt to conceal yourself! Your grievances have been healed – dare I release you in this state?"
"Whatever you wish of me, Master, I will do," Legolas promised.
"And you could fail, elf! For you are weak." The Dark Lord spat the words, but then a thoughtful silence that Legolas did not dare interrupt followed. After a few moments, the Deceiver beckoned Legolas to stand.
"The shadows shall take what has been returned. I fear without pain you cannot complete a goal."
Legolas stood, still and stoic. He held no fear for himself – only fear of his great master. It made him tremble and shake, but he stood his ground, silent, strong.
The Necromancer began to chant, his words blurring into a mix of Black Speech.
To Legolas' amazement, the words were understandable to his ears. The pain of hearing Black Speech's harsh sounds were gone.
"Ghâsh agh burg krimp agh durb!" Sauron's voice echoed through the thin walls.*
Legolas could hear the words clearly.
"Fire and dark bind and rule…"
Legolas fell to the ground at Sauron's feet. He let out a piercing scream, pain devouring him from every part of his body, attacking him, killing him.
Legolas curled on the ground, shaking and trembling before the Dark Lord. He felt only the pain, not hearing the chants or his own screams.
And so intent on the pain was he that he did not hear Tauriel's voice exclaiming with shock and surprise and pain.
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Tauriel heard a loud shriek of pain and terror. She knew – immediately – that it was Legolas, and, unable to stop herself, she let out a cry of astonishment.
Haste and fear lending speed to her, Tauriel stepped forward, towards the scream.
Kili grabbed her hand as she prepared to run off.
"It is a trap!" he exclaimed. "Do not fall to the Necromancer's treachery."
"You ask of me to protect myself when my companion falls before the Necromancer."
"We are not strong enough to defeat him!" Kili said, desperate to keep Tauriel from racing to her companion's defense and her own death.
"Yet I must try to save him! I do not ask you to follow."
Tauriel tore her hand out of Kili's and stepped forward. She entered the Necromancer's domain, feeling the oppressive darkness fighting against her. It wanted her to fall, to die, to collapse.
She would never do that.
Tauriel ran through the rooms somewhat blindly. She knew not what she searched for – other than Legolas, of course. But where he was or who was hurting him?
She did not know.
Tauriel could only follow the terrible screams.
She could hear them echo around her, reverberating in her ears.
They spoke, through screams and screeches, of terror and pain. He was afraid; she knew that, and it terrified her because she had faced many battles with him and had never seen him show his fear.
She would never forget the sound of his screams.
Tauriel raced forward, finally coming to a doorway of stone that seemed to reverberate from the screams.
Trembling and unable to hear anything but the cries of soul-ripping pain, she entered the threshold.
Throwing herself through the doorway, she saw the shadows swirling around the room, insatiable and cold. They pressed against her, making her shudder.
Legolas' screams had stopped. There was only silence.
"Ai!" she exclaimed, shocked at the sudden explosion of silence. The shadows seemed to retreat, baking from the room and fleeing out of the room.
As they recoiled, the darkness released Legolas, and Tauriel watched as he fell, collapsing, boneless, to the stone ground.
He was sprawled on the stones, unmoving, not seeming to breathe, not seeming to live. Tauriel found her legs refused to support her in front of Legolas' lifeless body. The only motion from him was the steady stream of blood pooling out under him, already thick around him, soaking into the tips of his hair.
Tauriel stumbled forward, falling to her knees in front of him.
"Legolas," she whispered, tears lodging a stone in her throat. She touched him gently, barely brushing his torn clothes with her shaking hand.
Then she screamed.
He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead!
After all they had done to save him! After all they had tried!
She and the dwarves had broke into Dol Guldur… only to find him dead…
Seeing the blood pooling around his body, Tauriel flinched backwards, wrenching her hand away from it before the blood touched it. Tauriel looked at Legolas' body, seeing the effects of the torture.
Cuts dotted his body, deep and flaming red. They looked rough –a sharp blade could not have caused them. Rather, they appeared as though they had been scratched open.
Tauriel caught sight of his bandaged wrists. Convincing herself to flip the elf over onto his back, she reached out and carefully turned him over.
His face was even worse – closed eyes, muscles taunt with pain. However – Tauriel did know that if Legolas still responded to the pain, then he had not been broken before his death.
That made her feel better – a little. It made a single candle light in the hundred leagues of darkness that surrounded her soul.
She looked at his wrists, peeling the bandage back. Thick, scabbing gashes covered the whole wrist. She knew that they had been bandaged to prevent Legolas from dying too soon.
T'was strange that the Necromancer had cut his wrists. As torture goes, that was relatively painless.
Tauriel swallowed hard as the truth assaulted her mind.
Legolas had tried to kill himself.
Perhaps he had thought she abandoned him and saw no reason to live.
Perhaps he knew he would fall and his pride wished him to go on his own terms.
Tauriel had once survived a time she feared he would fade.
Now, she knew that this had been so much worse.
For the first time in so long, he had seemed happy.
And a unspeakable evil had broken – nay, shattered – that.
Tauriel grasped his wrist tightly, wrapping her hand around the still warm flesh. She dissolved into pained cries, not caring who heard her.
After all, she had promised Legolas' escape, not her own.
If he could not leave, then why should she be allowed to?
She felt a slight movement in Legolas' wrist. Ignoring it, not allowing it to touch her through her grief, she hardly noticed.
Then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Tauriel let go of his wrist, looking at Legolas with red-rimmed eyes full of wonder.
She had just felt his heartbeat through her lament.
His heartbeat.
He was alive.
Immediately, she put an ear to his chest, listening for his breathing. A soft whoosh echoed through her ear, but it was obviously pained.
"Legolas," she breathed, tears of joy and pain and horror rising in her eyes.
The elf – her prince, her friend, her companion – was alive.
Tauriel whispered his name again, needing to hear something other than the shattering silence.
Legolas groaned in response, his eyes fluttering as his consciousness returned.
Then as she watched, his eyes opened.
And dark pupils looked up at her, blank and lifeless, no light hidden in the depths.
Tauriel felt her joy be shot by a thousand arrows, each piercing her heart as well.
Yes, Legolas was alive, but Tauriel feared that his soul was not.
And as she laid there, too shocked and pained to move, she saw the pool of blood expanding outward.
It took until it reached the toe of her boot for her to realize that even if he was alive, it could not be for too long if he continued to bleed out onto the shadowy stones.
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Gandalf heard the chanting in Black Speech. With horror, he recognized the words almost immediately.
He had never heard them spoken, but he had heard of the spell.
Morgoth had used it, back in the days before Sauron had rose to power, when Gandalf had first entered the world to aid Middle Earth.
He had spoken the words of unspeakable evil, words that no human would ever dare to speak.
They were meant to destroy and kill, commanding shadows that felt no allegiance to man or life. They were born of darkness and used the caster for their own benefit, if they could manage it – twisting him into the shadow-world.
The words Sauron uttered were the words that had been used to create the first orcs.
They had twisted elves –fair, high elves – into the abominations that only wished to cause pain and suffering.
The words had made elves – elves! – long for torture and to eat the flesh of other living beings.
Gandalf knew that the elf would not hold out for much longer. Already the elf had been near-madness if not there already.
As the screams continued, Gandalf saw another elf – a maiden – streaking past through Dol Guldur. Gandalf knew that she must have been trying to rescue the prince.
A dwarf – Kili! – emerged behind her, grasping her wrist and speaking urgently with her.
Elbereth Gilthoniel! What was Kili doing here? He was supposed to have entered the Lonely Mountain. Had the dwarves failed?
And why were they travelling to apparently rescue the Prince of Mirkwood?
Gandalf watched in astonishment as the elleth broke away and ran, feet making no sound on the stones.
Gandalf tried to catch Kili's attention, banging on the bars of his imprisonment.
Finally, Kili looked over and his mouth dropped rather comically open.
As Kili raced over, Gandalf heard Legolas Greenleaf's cries cease.
Bending his head forward,Gandalf whispered a prayter for the fallen elf, hoping that he might have lived through the spell that had twisted many beings before him into servants of the dark.
In his heart, Gandalf feared that hope was fruitless, and as the elleth's cries broke the sudden silence, he knew that the unspeakable had happened.
Gandalf feared that the prince, already through so much in his short life, wasn't going to survive his hardship.
The best Gandalf feared to hope for was that he was not too far gone to find peace in the West, and that he could join his family there.
If not, then the elf was fated to wander the shadow world after his death, wraith-like and destroyed, his soul lingering on, a slave to darkness.
T'was a fate he would wish unto no being, but fate had proven – time and time again over the ages – that not even a Maia could challenge its wishes.
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Hey, guys! Sorry it's been so long – school kind of exploded on me with work.
Good news was that the Chemistry test I spent last night studying for instead of writing this was a success – 103/100!
*I know the Black Speech line is weird and probably completely wrong grammar wise... However, Black Speech is not a finished language, and I did not have many words to choose from or sentences to fix my grammar off of...
Tell me what you think! Please review!
Thanks to all my reviewers!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or LotR!