Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I owned Lord of the Rings, no one would've heard of it because I am no skilful author.

Author's Note

I'm putting this here to warn people- this fic isn't for anyone who can't handle/dislikes psychological stuff. Absolutely not. If you fall into those categories, don't bother mentally scarring yourself. If you are a horror fan, this shouldn't be too bad, just your average newbie attempt at horror. Another set of people this isn't for- anyone who simply clicked because Legolas is in this fic. If you clicked on this because it had Legolas listed as a character and didn't bother to read the description, you are likely to be horribly disappointed. Believe me, I expect hate reviews from Legolas fangirls. They're all gonna yabber at me in the comments. So will the purists, but meh. If I wanted to please purists, I wouldn't have bothered to write all but one of the stories I've written so far [as of January 24 2016].

Enjoy or not, favorite/follow or not, all I want is at least one review that tells me how I can improve at writing horror.

The forest was almost silent. A single hawk screamed overhead. A spider- a small, ordinary one- silenced another fly in its web. A black squirrel jumped over the of the three hunters.

One of the men shot at the squirrel- it was the size of a small dog, after all- and missed. The men didn't bother chasing it. The squirrel had escaped.

"D'you think we'll see any elves, Ungar?" one whispered, to break the silence if nothing else.

"Let's hope not. They'll kill us all on sight." said his brunette companion.

"Ay, maybe not. They're said to have lots of gold, now. Maybe they'll take us captive instead, and we can steal it," said the third.

"Sigurd the Great tried that, and no one knows what happened to him after that. They could stop him where a troll failed." the first murmured. The men continued in silence.

Five days later, an elf watched silently as the three men sat around a campfire eating breakfast. They didn't know he was there; he had made certain of that. His people were the reason human legends spoke of cruel, beautiful creatures whose magic lured them to dance to death.

Legolas smiled.

He wouldn't have to kill them, of course; he would kill them because he was not so cruel as to leave them with broken minds.

It started as a whisper. A faint feeling they were going the wrong way. The man told his companions so. Ungar and Satir scoffed, sure of themselves. He turned and followed the way he thought was home.

Soon, he saw a stream. He shivered, dread setting in as he realized his companions had been right. He turned and started walking back the way he'd come. As he walked, he kept alert for giant spiders in the trees.

The two men walked, leaves crunching underfoot. They hadn't waited for their companion. He must have the madness, they guessed. He'd never come. Better not to have a delusional person in the village anyway.

"You see that, Satir?" Ungar asked.

"No, what?" asked his companion.

"There. Look. I think there's something big in that tree," said Ungar, pointing.

"I don't see anything."

"You don- FIEND!" Ungar lashed out with his hunting knife, eyes wild. Satir jumped back, raising his arms.

Ungar was already running like a monster was after him.

The man walking heard the word fiend shrieked through the forest in a familiar voice. He ran towards it, hoping to save his friends.

He tripped on the root of a tree and tumbled, rolling and landing in a heap at the bottom of a dell. Lying on his back, he looked up. Seeing motion in the branches, he struggled to right himself. He screamed when he saw he was tangled in a green vine. He was frozen in fear, watching as a small shape sailed from the tree above and landed with unnatural silence.

It stood, long pointed ears silhouetted against the weak sunlight, smiling face barely visible in the glare. It looked young, maybe thirteen years old. It would be beautiful were it not mocking him.

"You're interesting! Your mind is strong, but it's so easy to make you see a false reality..." it said, smile growing wider as the ground began to twirl, leaves and stones swirling in a dry whirlpool as green vines grew to take their place, both vines and spiral carrying an irrefusable pull. He was yanked in two different directions, his body feeling as though it would be ripped in two. The young elf stood in the center, unaffected by either, and the man knew it was an illusion. He knew with his mind only; the elfling's terrifyingly beautiful laughter was out of place against the intense pain. The different forces sped, the ground spiraling faster and the vines twisting harder and the elfling's eerie laughter rising in ferocity until the human's mind went blank.

The brunette ran, feet beating against the ground as he fled the creature he'd thought of as his companion. The scene he'd left was horrendous, with his friend having changed in seconds into a bear-headed reptile on two legs. He shuddered, and ran faster, lines blurring.

Satir chased his companion, afraid the madness had taken Ungar. Satir paused, breathing hard as he realized he'd lost both his friend and the path. Then the scream rent the air.

The inhuman scream chilled the hunter's bones. The flapping of wings and skittering of insect legs told him he had to forget everything and run.

The brunette, Ungar, could run no longer. After the most chilling sound he'd ever heard had scared all the animals away, he'd run with all his might. He collapsed, gasping, lungs deflating. He shoved himself to his knees as a shadow slipped toward him and shifted into a figure.

The figure was obscured by the shadow he'd formed from. What was visible looked promising. Only a smallish teenager with shoulder-length hair. He relaxed, lying on the ground. Then there was a knife floating by his throat.

"Wha-!" Ungar gasped, pushing himself off the ground. An invisible force pressed him downwards between the shoulder blades.

"Shh-h-" said the figure, now in full view. "You can't change what's about to happen, so why fight?" The bright dagger slipped, dragging around his neck and hovering in front of his face- a caressing motion . The figure stepped forward once more. The human tried to shove himself backwards, but his muscles were far too worn from running for hours.

"Don't stay out until the red butterflies appear, isn't that what mortals say?" the elfling crooned, face twisting into a gorgeous smile. "Ai, well- look, it's past your bedtime~" And the elfling pointed over the human's head.

The brunette looked. He saw three large red butterflies whose wings appeared to be made of streamers. He drew in a sharp breath, cut off by a crushing force around his throat. He tried to fight, thrashing as best he could, but vines coiled around him...

The last man alive stumbled across his first-to-leave companion's body. At least, Satir assumed the shredded pieces lying around the tiny depression were once the village grump. The man's clothes were here, but not his kit, and there wasn't much else the dismembered pieces hung on the branches could be. He didn't want to see the scene any longer. This was the stuff of nightmares.

He retched at the edge of the place, and then ran, wishing he could leave the mental image behind as well as the actual scene.

As he ran, Satir didn't look where he was going. He was too concentrated on the kill behind him. He wasn't watching his step, and he tripped, tumbling over and over.

He looked at the brunette head he'd tripped over, and decided that visage would also haunt his nightmares. Then he looked up at a face more terrifying.

The blond elfling stood there, blood sliding the brilliant edges of his dagger. Its dusty clothes weren't much to look at, but its face-. Blood ran down that blue-eyed face, a random set of red streaks that had come from his companions.

"Ai? You looking at my art? Thank my teacher when you see him," the elfling said, smiling almost fit to tear his lips from his face. "But first, prepare to die..."