Nightmare

By

Dorian Herestor

There was no moon. There were no stars.

There was no light.

Darkness fell upon Mirkwood. Complete. Unyielding. Devoid of mercy.

Where was he? Where was he? He couldn't find him! The dark, dank trees closed in around him, preventing him to see farther, preventing him from finding him. Where was he? Where was his son?

"Legolas!" he shouted. Only is echo answered back.

So dark, he couldn't see. Where was he? Where? He had to find him! So dark, so much dark. He had to. Where was he! A nearby owl hooted into the night. No! Where?

"Legolas!"

Footsteps. Light footsteps. Child's footsteps. To his left, to his right…

"Legolas!"

…In front of him, behind him. A light, bright, childlike laughter, sounding from everywhere.

"Legolas!" He shouted again, at the top of his lungs. "Where are you?"

The childlike laughter, louder, closer, bright, mischievous, full of life "Come and find me, ada!"

No. No! He couldn't find him! He couldn't lose him! Not there, not in Mirkwood!

"Come and find me, ada!"

No, no, not his son, not his son! He had to find him, he had to! Where was he? Where! The darkness grew, he couldn't see, nothing, nothing at all, the trees closed in on him, like a cage, like a cage to trap a wild thing in, to trap him, he had to find him, he couldn't lose him, the scent of dank and pungent putrefaction filled his nose, got inside his throat, so hard to breath, he listened, he listened, the light footsteps, the child's laughter, where was he where?

"Come and find me!"

"Legolas!"

"Ada, come and find me!"

"LEGOLAS!"

He looked around, but he couldn't see, couldn't see beyond the grim-faced trees, couldn't see in the dark, the terrible, terrible dark, the trees looked down on him, judging, what was that pounding on his throat, is stomach, no, his heart, he didn't know, the pain on his chest, like a poisoned claw, digging and gripping where his gut should be, so hard to breath, so hard to breath, he tried to follow the footsteps, the laughter, he tried, he did, but it was so dark, so, so dark, he tripped on a root, or was it a corpse, he couldn't follow, he couldn't, he had to, his son, so hard to breath, so hard to breath, where was he WHERE WAS HE HE HAD TO FIND HIM HAD TO SAVE HIM HE COULDN'T LOSE HIM NO NO NOT AFETER HIS WIFE HE COULDN'T LOSE HIS PRECIOUS PRECIOUS BOY NO…

"Ada, I'm here, come and find me!"

He looked around, but he couldn't see, the world gyrated around him, he could feel his own panic in the air, it was what kept him going, he had to find him, he had to!

Something more, something else, another sound, a high-pitched shriek, horrible, blood-freezing, the sound of heavy metal boots over dead leaves, grunts and shrieks and giant pincers closing around him. Orcs, spiders and Eru knew what, monsters, all in Mirkwood, all near, all after his boy, his precious, precious boy! He had to find him, had to protect him, had to save him, he couldn't die, no, no NO!

He ran.

He didn't know where, he ran through the woods, followed the sounds of the enemy, calling, shouting, crying his boy's name.

"LEGOLAS! WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Come and find me…"

No, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening, it couldn't, no, why why WHY?

"I'm here…"

"LEGOLAS!"

"Find me…"

"LEGOLAS! LEGOLAS! WHERE ARE YOU! LEGOLAS!"

Then, suddenly, nothing. Not a sound. Not the boots nor the shrieks nor the pincers. Not the sound of wind rushing through the leaves. Silence, absolute, muffling silence.

He stopped.

A void.

"You've found me, ada." Said a small, and painfully sad voice.

He looked down. And the dead blue eyes of his dead boy stared back at him.

The dead boy said: "You've found me."

His heart stopped in his chest. He stopped breathing. Everything went numb. He shook his head. "No. No no nononononono!" He fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks like waterfalls. He hadn't be alble to find him, hadn't be able to save him, not his wife, not his son, not in time. Not his precious, precious boy! "No nononoNO! NOOOOOOO!"

"Ada?"

"NOOOOOOOO, LEGOLAS, NO!"

"Ada? Ada!"

He jerked, ears ringing, heart thumping in his throat. Something was shaking his shoulder. He tied to yank whatever it was away. His heart was broken, he was grieving, he did not want some bothersome thing bothering him.

"Ada! Ada, wake up!"

Bothersome thing! Go away! He wanted to die alone.

"Ada, wake up!"

Ada. Father. Valar! Legolas! He realized that it was his son who was shaking his shoulder.

"Ada, wake up! Why're you cwying?"

Legolas, his precious, precious Legolas, gazed him with bright, worried eyes. Alive eyes! Disoriented, Thranduil held his son's face in his hands. Warm flesh, live flesh, real flesh! And real, and live eyes! A dream, ai, only a dream. His son was alive.

Thranduil looked around. A bedroom, his son's bedroom, and his son's bed. On the floor lay an open book. He must have fallen asleep while reading Legolas a bedtime story, he realized. It took every ounce of self-control for him not to vomit in sick relief right there and then for it all had been nothing more than a dream.

A small, warm hand pressed against his cheek. "Ada, what is it?" his son asked in a small voice. "Why are you cwying?"

He wrapped his arms around his boy's small form, rubbed his cheek on the elfling's head, savored every tiny heartbeat he felt through his skin, and prayed to every deity he knew for keeping his son safe. "For nothing, ion nin" he whispered in his elfling's ear, smoothing his fair hair. "I just had a bad dream."

And while holding his son in his arms, Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, wept silently, for he knew that his nightmare could, one day, become reality.

I know, dark little thing. Came to me after I spent a terrifying half an hour looking for my black cat Stinky at night. Yeah, Legolas is not a cat, but I felt pretty much what Thranduil felt in this fic, although I admit I might have exaggerated a bit on this.

I wrote the way I think a freaked-out person would think, don't know if I succeded in creating the right mood.

Please tell me if you find any typo or grammatical error.

Disclaimer: Every think belings to Tolkien.

ps: For those who ask, I think even an elf would be scared of trees in a situation like this. It's not like Mirkwood is the brightest and peacefullest forest ever.

Dorian Herestor