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Strider urged Nwalme faster. He could smell it; the rain. Within an hour of their initial departure the clouds fell over the sky in dark gray heaps and the air became saturated to the point where it stuck to bare skin. Strider rode Nwalme hard, down the trodden path and willed the imminent rain not to fall. He passed a worried glance towards Legolas who still had not stirred and noticed the sheen of sweat that traced his forehead.

"Hold on mellon-nin." Strider said aloud. He then unexpectedly felt Legolas attempt to raise his

left arm as he murmured unintelligibly. Strider grabbed Legolas' hand and repeated the words until he stopped his ranting. Now, fully concerned for Legolas' fevered state, and the impending downpour, Strider urged Nwalme on and searched for a waterproof shelter. He continued on as dark thick clouds formed spirals in the sky, blocking out the remainder of the setting sun. Strider's heart fluttered with anxiety as he paced his eyes across the Mirkwood forest for shelter.

Just at his threshold of irritation, Strider found a natural cave amidst the rock slant of a smaller hill. The rocks jutted out from the top, creating a stone canopy over the opening. With the flick of the reign Strider had Nwalme steer towards the cave, chuckling when he heard her knicker in approval of the location they headed towards.

Thranduil paced across the battlefield barking orders at his men. Some elves burned the orc bodies, while others tended to the wounded and prepared for departure. Lunil was running back and forth, refilling all the guards waterskins and rinsing the dirt and blood off their weapons. Thranduil had insisted he leave for home, but the boy was persistent in helping. So Thranduil allowed him to stay but still felt uneasy letting a small boy be among such death. The king looked over his shoulder and noticed Lindir, his best guardsman, approaching the king sorrowfully. Thranduil had sent the elf to tally the wounded and took a deep breath in preparation for what he had to say. The guardsman handed the king a water skin as he said, "My King, there are four injured although one clings to his fading light."

"Take me to them" Said the king as he walked in tandem with Lindir. "Is it possible to get them on horses to Mirkwood before sundown?"

"Yes..and no, my King" Lindir paused. "The orcs have also murdered three of our horses."

"The horses?" the king replied incredulously. Secretly the king was relieved that he had tied Nwalme away from the other horses.

"Aye. In my experience this is the first time that orcs intended to injure the equine. Feanero was able to stop the perpetrators but at a mortal cost."

Thranduil stopped in his tracks. "The young archer?"

"Aye." Lindir replied mournfully.

"Will he…is he…"

"Fading?" Lindir interrupted. "It pains me to say yes my lord. An orc was able to strike him down while he defended the horses."

Thranduil shook off the shock and continued a little quicker to the injured. Feanero was the same age as Legolas…the two had learned archery together. The king regretfully remembered that he originally forbade Feanero to join Legolas' rescue squad, because, while his archery was impeccable, his skill in combat was lacking. In his own defense, Thranduil only allowed Fearno to come because the elf had insisted. He said Legolas would do the same for him.

Thranduil and Lindir walked up to the huddle of elves that formed around the casualties. The healers had already accomplished emergency first aid on the fallen comrades and the four lay side by side. One elf guardsman, Arronel, had regained consciousness and fought to stand up. His injuries included a slashed bicep and broken leg. As Thranduil worked his way through the crowd, the huddle began to disband as the elves went to finish their assigned tasks; leaving the king, healers, and Lindir to look over the injured. Thranduil surveyed his men and looked to the healers.

"Sum their conditions to me," He stated. One of the healers was still tending to a pale Feanero and the other stood and bowed to the king.

"Of the four injured two are merely unconscious due to head injuries. I think that they will be in pain for a while but they will survive. As you noticed Arronel here has handicapping wounds but he will be fine as well."

"And Fearno?" The king asked with false hope.

The healer took a deep breath before he spoke, "He has been mortally wounded. Fearno was able to kill the culprits that were slaughtering our horses, but, he was unfairly stabbed in the lower back by a devilish orc. We've been attempting to staunch the bleeding but at this point he is too far gone." The healers looked to Fearno. "He cannot even be reached; his mind is in darkness."

The king wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair as he looked down at the fallen elf he held dear. He couldn't help but remember the image of Legolas' battered body that compared well to Fearnos… He took a knee at Fearnos side and grabbed his cold hand. "Was he conscious when you found him?"

"Nay, a few guardsman found him shortly after the battle when they went to tend to the horses. The found Fearno with his horse, who was also injured .The mare had kicked and killed Faernos attacker and stood over him until we arrived even though she had a broken ankle and an arrow in her thigh."

Just as the healer ended his sentence Thranduil suddenly felt Fearno squeeze his hand. A few seconds later the elf left out a ragged gasp and shot his blue eyes open. "Legolas!" he choked. "How does Legolas fare?"

Thranduil took a few seconds to reply due to the mere shock of the situation but looked into Fearnos panicked and bloodshot eyes. "Hes on a horse to Mirkwood as I speak."

Fearno instantly relaxed and exhaled. "You are not with him?" he spoke just above a whisper.

The kings heart dropped. "No.. no I'm not but I.."

"Don't let him go. Don't let him fade." Fearno said as he closed his eyes.

"I wont." Thranduil stated.

But there was no reply.

"Legolas"

Was there a sound?

"Legolas"

The sweet sound of a feminine voice resonated like an echo that came from no direction.

'I am here' Legolas pulled a thought together. He didn't want the heavenly voice to disappear but it felt so far away.

"Legolas you are weary", the words said.

He had no sight and he could feel nothing. A worry crossed his mind but the voice cooed "Legolas" and again soothed his troubled mind. He relaxed in the dark and fell into the sound of silk, wishing to be lulled further into the tranquil night. The tone of an angel anchored Legolas' thought in this confusing darkness.

"Legolas you are safe"; the words tickled him like silk on bare skin. He floated in no particular setting with no particular thoughts; just to follow the enticing voice that beckoned to him, "Legolas".

"Stay where it is warm, stay where it is safe, Legolas."

He wanted to stay very badly. He wanted to stay with this angelic voice...

"Legolas"

For an instant, the voice scared him, and he tried to open his eyes and see light but could not. A panicked chill ran down his spine.

"Legolas"

Where was this voice? Who was she?

"Legolas. Do not let your mind wander"

He fought back against the voice, "Where am I?"

For a flashing second Legolas heard crashing rain upon trees tops and he felt a cold breeze send chills to his core. He was angered by the voice as he began to try and free himself of the darkness binding him. "Legolas", the voice purred.

"No!" Legolas cried. "Do not beckon me you personification of fate! I will not be fooled by your tricks any longer."

A freeze wrapped the elf and he fought to open his eyes. A shadow seemed to press upon him as the cold enveloped skin, sending shrills of overwhelming pain.

"Legolas" he heard again. "Legolas" The voice cried over and over. Each word personifying a weight that pulled Legolas down, but he fought. He tried to breath and allowed memories to cross his conscious. A fleeting thought of mother passed his eyes and for a second he was free from the fateful voice. He thought of lying in his Naneths lap as an elfling. Then he thought of Lunil and wondered how the boy fared. A picture of his father's worried face resurfaced and Legolas heard him beg for help. "Ada!", he shouted out. "Where are you?" A shot of pain came from his side and he looked down to see the bloody tail of an arrow protruding from his abdomem. Panicked, Legolas went to reach for the arrow but it disappeared and fever spots danced before his eyes. He re-lived the torturous hours in the orcs cave. A scream escaped his lungs as he thought about being trapped under the stone once more. He could not hear tress and he could not feel the sun. Nothing that happened seemed to make sense as memories flashed past his eyes and pain overtook his senses. Legolas clawed at the darkness and fought to find light. "Ada!"

The king sat with Fearno for a time. The other injured men were on horseback to Mirkwood with the remaining guards, while the king, Lindir, and Lunil, prepared to march the same course. Thranduil could smell the humidity in the air, it would rain soon. He clung to the Fearnos static forearm as dark thoughts spun in his head like a typhoon.

He remembered a time when the forests of Mirkwood used to be safe. They used to be called by a different name; a name that Thranduil could no longer bear in mind. He faintly recalled green grass and air that didn't poison the mind. A time when the elves of Mirkwood did not hide or whisper of demons. He remembered his sweet wife and her blue eyes that transcended so perfectly to their son. Legolas. The Kings stomach churned at the mental image of his disheveled prince. Legolas had warned him; told him of orcs interrupting trade and ravaging forests, but Thranduil denied the possibility. He denied so much… but there was no way of seeing around his sons tortured body. No way of stowing away the dead elf before him. The Valar has sent him a message, and Thranduil has heard it. There is evil in middle earth. There are orcs in Mirkwood forest… in HIS forest. They were killing men under HIS protection and slaughtering HIS family.

The king let go of Fearons limp hand. "No more will die because of my actions" he promised.

"My lord?" Lindir inquired, as he stood over the king. Lindir was concerned for him; he looked burdened and held an intimidating darkness in his stare.

The king rose to his feet but kept his head bowed. "We leave for Mirkwood immediately."

"But my lord, I feel a great storm is upon us wehave started to prepare your tent. Also, there were orcs who fled, we must find them and smite them."

"The water will be our camouflage as we ride back to my kingdom. I cannot stand here any longer. It stinks of death." The king turned to Lindir. "The sooner we close the gates to my city, and I see my son, the sooner was can put this all behind us."

"Pardon my lord, but can we put this behind us?"

"Speak carefully Mellon- nin, this is not an hour for my methods to be questioned."

Lindir turned towards the king and cleared his nervousness with an audible gulp. "Allow me to ride out with a group of your warriors. We can eradicate the remaining orcs from our boundaries."

Thranduil stared at Fearons corpse. "I am not willing to risk any more lives."

"But my lord it is a necessary risk. If we do not act now…"

"Enough." Thranduil spun on his heels, looking down at his confidant. "Prepare for departure. I want Fearon strapped to a horse. He will receive a proper burial."

"Aye, my lord."

Thranduil said a silent prayer over Fearon, his eyes closed in concentration. As he prayed he could hear the clumsy footsteps of, who he assumed to be, Lunil. He looked up, his suspicions confirmed, at the boy. For the first time he noticed the unkempt appearance of the little man. He was clothed in oversized linens that seemed older than he was, and utterly covered in dirt from head to toe. "Is there nowhere I can send you boy?"

Lunil looked hurt, his eyebrows furrowed in anxiety, "I don't want you too."

"I feel that, as a parent, it is a responsibility of mine to return you to your mother. Don't you think she misses you?"

Lunil dropped his chin to his chest and began to sob. "I think she does", he said to the ground, "but I owe a debt to the elf, to Legolas. Fix the wrong I've done to him."

The King sighed in exasperation. "Very well; return with us to Mirkwood, but soon after, I will return you to your mother."

Lunil raised his head and nodded with a small smile. Thranduil took his hand feeling an abnormal empathy for the boy. "Are you hungry?"

Lunil bounced his head in approval immediately, his bright eyes made Thranduil laugh.

Strider tried to comfort his friend. A storm raged all around them as he tried to keep a shivering Legolas warm. The protruding rock offered protection from falling rain but was no help against the flood waters slowly rising. Strider worried for Legolas' wounds, he was able to staunch the bleeding from the arrow wound but the rain made any other task near impossible. A fire could not be made and it was too dark for much else. Strider turned his face to the sky and cursed the storm. Legolas cried out for his father several times and Strider felt foolish for his anger. He needed to wait this out until morning.

"Please, hold on Mellon-nin."

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Lemme know how you liked Legolas' 'nightmare' world. I'm trying to give you a sense of his confusion and struggle… but its harder to put into sensible words than I thought.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Criticism? Like it? Don't like it? PLEASE! Review!