The 100 Theme Challenge!

These are a series of prompts that I found on the internet, and I thought it would be fun to try and come up with a little story of each one. I am not sure if they will all be interconnected. They will all center on Legolas, of COURSE, and involve him and his relationships with others. There may be references to my other stories in them. Please read, review, and most importantly, ENJOY!

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#1: Introduction

by Caelhir

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Year 2951 Third Age of Middle Earth

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The moon was a ghostly face grinning widely at the sleeping earth, casting its pale rays upon the ground. The stars winked softly, shining upon the still plain, where there was movement.

A man rode alone over the plain, muddy overcoat flapping against his legs as his horse cantered in a relaxed manner. He had long ago given it its head, allowing it to set its own pace. This made for a more enjoyable ride for both of them.

The horse was strong and sturdy, his powerful legs flexing and rippling as his soft reddish-brown form slipped through the night, the moonlight on his coat dimmed slightly by the mud coating his sides. Any casual observer would easily be able to see, even through the caked mud, that this was a fine animal, born and bred amongst the finest of Rohan.

The man himself also had a regal bearing about him, his head held high. His seat on the horse was one of well-practiced horsemanship. He rode as though it was second nature.

Where he was going he thought grimly, was a place that fairly reeked of the Shadow's influence on the once-fair land. He had heard many times of the beauty that could be found under the boughs of Greenwood, named for the life that thrived there, but now it was called Mirkwood, for it was a dank and gloomy place.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, foster son of Elrond of Imladris, called Aragorn, had never seen a more desolate place. Elrond had asked him to go to King Thranduil, who had sent a missive for the aid of a healer form Imladris. Several of Thranduil's warriors who had been patrolling the shadowed forest had been set upon by spiders. But these spiders were "like nothing the patrols had ever seen before," or so Thranduil had said.

Now, as Aragorn approached the dark edge of the deep forest, his horse snorted and tossed its head. Stopping, Aragorn slid off of its back and placed a hand on its neck. Taking the reins in his hand, he led the beast onward into the forest.

The weight of the shadows creeping all around him was oppressive. Aragorn shivered and drew his cloak more tightly around him. The air was still and musty, and though it had not been stirred by anything for far too long. He proceeded carefully; Elrohir and Elladan, who had been to Greenwood (Mirkwood, Aragorn told himself. It's called Mirkwood now.) had not failed to tell him of exactly how many foul and terrifying creatures lived in the plagued wood.

Aragorn had, of course, rolled his eyes and played along at the twins' mentions of the horrific beasts, many-eyed monsters and terrifyingly deadly creatures which supposedly inhabited the woods in which Thranduil reigned. But now as he walked under the leaning shadowed trees, senses on hyper-aware for any movement beyond his own, he thought that there was some merit in the twin elves' words. Perhaps not to the extent of the twelve-legged, six-eyed scaly dragon-like beast which Elrohir had been telling him of, but there was certainly a chance that they had simply been extending and exaggerating what they themselves had heard or been told by others. Aragorn strongly felt that Glorfindel had had some part to play in the story-telling, for Aragorn knew that the golden-haired warrior had been to Mirkwood many times.

Aragorn's head snapped around at the sound of crackling leaves. He was no longer alone, and could not afford this lapse into memory now. Loosening his sword in its sheath, Aragorn patted his horse's neck soothingly, for it had reared its head up at the noise that echoed through the mysteriously quiet trees. The fact that the human had been able to get this far into Mirkwood caused Aragorn to hasten his walk, for Thranduil's patrols were second in vigilance only to Galadriel's in Lorien. For the wood-elves to be absent was an ominous sign.

They continued to walk carefully for another hour. Aragorn could not tell exactly the amount of time that passed between his entering the forest and his present location, but he knew it must have been at least that long. Mirkwood seemed to be trapped in a permanent twilight-like state, neither light nor dark at any given time.

Aragorn decided to stop for the night, as it had been midnight when he had entered the forest, and he would need to be alert to be able to help Thranduil. He followed the sound of a river until he found it, rushing through the trees. It was a thing of beauty, water turned black by the light, and it seemed to sparkle and dance invitingly. Aragorn suddenly realized just how thirsty he really was.

Tying his horse's reins to a low branch and unsaddling it, he set up a rudimentary camp. Pulling his flask out of an inner pocket, Aragorn stepped over to the river and looked into the water. His reflection appeared distorted and odd in the rapid water. He lowered his flask into the water.

He gasped at how icy cold the water was. He had not been expecting it! He quickly filled his flask, and withdrew his hand. He retreated to his bedroll and was about to take a drink when he heard the same crinkling, cracking sound as before. He froze, looking warily around, the settled back. He lifted the flask to his lips and drank deeply.

Out of nothing, out of nowhere, spiders exploded into the clearing. Aragorn choked on the water, swallowed, and leapt to his feet drawing his sword. Plunging into the mass of spiders, he hacked and swiped at them, killing some and only dismembering a few. He staggered: lightheadedness attacked him, and he leaned against the tree. His mind screamed at him to get up, to fight, to kill, but his body did not respond. Had he been stung? He hadn't felt it, but he supposed it was possible.

Further thought was impossible as Aragorn slumped to the ground. The spiders, who had retreated, seemingly sensing that their prey was weak, surged forwards to finish him. He despaired quietly and waited for death. He prayed it would be quick.

A flash of dark gold flared in front of him, and the spiders' stings and bites never came. Flurries of movement in front of him confused his muddled brain, and his vision finally went dark.

Aragorn's hearing came to him first. He could hear movements around him, soft and quiet, unlike the sharp hasty movements of the spiders. He shifted slightly to test that he could feel and that he was truly still miraculously alive.

The soft movements above him stopped and a voice spoke quietly to him, half sneering, half-laughing.

"So the mighty warrior awakens!"

Aragorn groaned before he could stop himself. He had been warned by Glorfindel that the wood-elves were private, slightly xenophobic people, with strong prejudices and dislikes firmly in place. Of course his luck would bring him to meet one who seemed to have very strong anti-human feelings.

Without opening his eyes, he said, "THank you. I assume you were the one who fought the spiders?"

The light voice, laced with humored venom, answered smoothly.

"Of course. You seemed too sleepy to do it yourself, and far be it from me to be the one who allows anyone to die on my watch, human or not." There was a slight pause, as though the elf was deciding what to say. "I may not like your kind, human, but I do respect your life."

Aragorn said nothing, merely cracked open his eyes to see the canopy of the forest rustling above him. He sat up, and leaned against the tree, still slightly dizzy. Looking for the elf he had been speaking to, he found that there was no elf in sight. he looked around dazedly before the languid voice said, "Up here, human."

Looking up, Aragorn saw a pair of bright eyes regarding him for the shelter of a tree. The face was in shadow, but there was no doubt that this elf was one of the King's warriors.

With a slight rustle, the elf dropped form the tree like a cat and sat on the ground, a good twelve feet away from Aragorn.

The elf looked to be a little older than Elrohir and Elladan. He had dark golden hair, darker than Glorfindel's, and ice-blue eyes. He had his head cocked to one side, and seemed to be studying Aragorn even as the human regarded the elf. He was dressed in the dark apparel of a hunter, clothing that blended into the background of the forest. Equipped with a fine bow and a quiver of arrows, the elf also carried a set of two long knives, strapped to the quiver. More convenient for killing spiders than a sword, Aragorn supposed.

"What is your name, human?"

The elf seemed less vicious now, and more curious. Aragorn replied, but used his Imladris-given name instead of his true name. The elf had saved his life, after all.

"My name is Estel. I am from Rivendell. Lord Elrond-"

"You are human."

The elf's voice was flat, emotionless. It seemed to Aragorn that the elf was perplexed about something.

"Yes," Aragorn answered carefully. "I am a human. Lord Elrond adopted me. That is how I am from Rivendell."

The elf seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before nodding in acceptance. "Go on," he said quietly.

"Lord Elrond has sent me to King Thranduil to assist in the matter of warriors who have been stricken ill by spiders."

"Ah, yes," said the elf. "That is what I was told. Though I did think they'd send an elf..."

He trailed off, glancing about him, then standing suddenly, he offered a hand to Aragorn.

"Come, these woods are dangerous. We must go to the palace."

Aragorn took the proffered hand and pulled himself up. As soon as he did so, the elf let go of the human and stepped away from him.

"I took the liberty of packing your horse." The elf whistled a tune and another horse, light and agile, tripped softly into the clearing. "Come, let us go."

The two rode in silence until Aragorn, able to stand it no longer, asked, "What is your name? Who are you, and why did you help me?"

The elf did not answer, but simply stared ahead, icy eyes piercing the gloom, but not seeming to see anything. Aragorn was on the verge of asking again when the elf spoke.

"Seeing you drink the water, then be set upon brought back many menories for me, human. Do you have any brothers?"

"Yes," Aragorn said quietly, "Two."

"Well," said the elf, nodding slowly, "I have...a brother as well." He seemed to hesitate slightly before confirming the number of brothers he had. He shook his head and continued. "We were very young, and he wandered away from the palace. Well, he ran away, actually..."

The elf told Aragorn about how his younger brother had drunk from the same river that Aragorn himself just had, and a similar situation had occurred, only in place of spiders, there had been a wolf.

"...and my brother had no chance whatsoever to defend himself. He drank quite a lot more water than you did, I think, and with him being so young, well, it affected him quite heavily. Our father shot the wolf, though, and we raced to his side. I despaired, thinking my brother was dead, but our father figured out that he had drunk from the Caimaduin, the sleeping river."

At Aragorn's startled look, the elf laughed softly. "Yes human, that is the famous Caimaduin for which Greenwood is known. You are lucky you were only asleep for a few hours."

Aragorn pondered this, then realized that the elf had not answered his question at all, he asked again, "Who are you?"

The elf seemed to consider him for a moment before saying, "You are from Rivendell, so I can only assume you are not a dark man, and with everything I have heard here and there for many years now, I can safely assume that you are the heir of Isildur?"

Aragorn nearly toppled off his horse in shock. The elf was more intelligent that Aragorn had originally given him credit for!

"How-how-?" he croaked, "How-?"

The elf regarded him seriously.

"We in Greenwood, called Mirkwood, are more perceptive than many seem to think. Elrond's secret has not been known to many, only to some, and I am not aware that he knows of my knowledge of you. And for some reason," he said slowly, "I do not think you are like Isildur. I think you are stronger than he, and I am an exceptional judge of character."

Ignoring Aragorn's astonished gasps and incoherent spluttering, the elf continued.

"I am Thoronsul, son of King Thranduil, and I am very glad you have come."

Aragorn's mind reeled again. The son of the King? The Crown Prince of Mirkwood? He had heard Thoronsul's name spoken with respect bordering on reverence by the elves of Imladris. This elf was rumored to have killed an entire band of orcs who had held his mother hostage at one point, as well as many other great deeds!

Finally finding his voice, Aragorn said, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Thoronsul, son of Thranduil. I am at your service."

"And I at yours, for many of the warriors who lay ill at this moment are my friends, and one is my brother, Legolas."

Legolas had been mentioned a few times to Aragorn by Elladan and Elrohir, the latter mostly. He had never met the wood elf for himself, but had heard many times of his character and deeds from the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor (who seemed to think that Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were only good for trouble and killing orcs) and even Elrond himself.

As Aragorn and Thoronsul rode onward to the palace of Mirkwood, Aragorn felt that this moment would be very important to his future. For now, however, he was content to ride in silence, thinking about the task ahead, and the winding road of the future.

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If you see errors, please point them out (kindly!). Review please!