Hi guys, sorry this fic has stewed so long, I have one more chapter written after this, and it is one that I am not completely happy with so it may be a week or so before it gets posted. That being said, I have started to get more free time for writing so will be trying to pick up the pace, especially as Christmas comes and goes. It is my aim to try and have at least one of my ongoing fics competed by June next year so keep an eye out for regular updates!

Much love,

Kiad

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Legolas moved silently through the trees towards the sounds of a solitary figure walking through the leaves. He perched himself on a high branch, well above the forest floor and watched as a young man paced in a straight line muttering to himself.

"Golden haired, pompous, stuck up elves!" He muttered as he paced. "Estel this and Estel that and Legolas can't be alive it's been too long." The young man sighed and stopped pacing, sagging against a tree as if all of the fight had left him. "I miss you Legolas." He whispered. "I can almost feel you here with me now. There hasn't been a day go by where I haven't thought about you. You should just stop playing hide and go seek and just come back to me." Legolas sat frozen on his branch. Estel couldn't have seen him. He was too high up and too well camouflaged for any eyes to have spotted him. He thought about the young man's words and his heart desperately wanted to go and comfort his friend. He could feel their bond pulling and tugging now they were so close to each other and yet… he was still so far away.

Estel would never accept him like this. He was mutilated and damaged. He was Ulwarth and Eglain but, he was also Cúthalion and Inglor and Estel was his friend. His mind only half made up he slowly climbed down the branches of the tree, watching as Estel tensed as he spotted him. He landed on the grass without a sound and turned to face his friend for the first time in years. It seemed to take his friend a moment or two to register what he was seeing and then he whispered.

"Legolas?" He nodded. Tears welled up in young man's eyes and Estel moved forwards to greet him. He tensed and took several steps back from his friend, throwing his arms out for Estel to stop. He was getting too close and the smell of his warm man blood was already starting to register in the back of his mind. He screwed his eyes shut and stopped breathing, tensing his whole body as he fought the urges to kill.

After a moment or two, he opened his eyes and saw the future king of Gondor had stopped his advances and was looking at him in an odd way. He opened his mouth to try and explain but, all he emitted were strangled choking sounds that burned his throat. A mixture of Black Speech and Elvish, battling for dominance in his mouth. He tried again to receive similar results only this time he managed to stutter out a 'No', a 'Stop and a 'Kill' in a very crude version of the common language, spitting out black poison as the speech of Mordor rolled off of his tongue at times when it was impossible to control.

Unbeknown to him, his canines had grown past his chin similar to tusks and his eyes were now completely black with no sign of iris or pupil. The nails on his remaining fingers and on his bare toes had grown into claws and his skin had turned a greyish white, contrasting with the black that now rolled down his chin and the eyes which were branded black on his palms. The only things that registered in his mind over the course of the next few minutes was first the beginnings of fear entering Estel's grey eyes and the thought of throwing himself out of a tree to rid Middle-Earth of his filth. He turned with a loud cry of pain and anger, and jumped back into the safe haven of the treetops and watched as Estel pelted back towards the camp where he was staying.

How could he have been so foolish to think that anyone would want him like this? Why had he let himself believe that he could go back to his friends and that everything would be okay? He needed to kill something. He turned and raced away from where he knew the camp to be, sniffing and listening for some sort of enemy. A small red fur ball shot out of nowhere and in seconds, he was on the forest floor staring at the twisted, mangled body of his catch. His eyes darkened and he forgot who he was once more as he began to devour his prey raw and still warm. The carcass twitched in his hands as red blood ran down his arms and much later that night, he would cry himself to sleep clutching the pelt and a collection of small bones from a small, red squirrel.

What did you think? Let me know in the comments section!