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Everything in Me...

Chapter one

Condemnation

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It's down to this
I've got to make this life make sense
Can anyone tell what I've done
I miss the life
I miss the colors of the world
Can anyone tell where I am

3 Doors Down

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An eerie silence fell about the room, the dirtied faces of the Rohan men framing eyes that peered at the prisoner with a mixture of both fear and interest.  The prisoner stood tall and proud despite the chains that adorned his hands and feet; his eyes glaring out at them all, showing his hate, strength and power that his deceptive form possessed.  It was those eyes that held it all.  Eyes that, as whispered fearfully in dark corners, could, with one look, steal a person's soul and send it stumbling into darkness. 

"Legolas of Mirkwood," Théoden, King of the Mark, started formally while looking the prisoner directly in the eyes.  For his part Legolas merely glared back, his ice-blue gaze allowing his hate to be openly shown while using his only power over the people gathered within the hall of the Deep.  He had learnt in the last few days that they were nervous of his eyes, that they feared making contact with the deep intensity that they held. 

"You have been given a fair trial and a chance to make your plea.  Do you still refuse to profess your guilt?"

Legolas' eyes flared in anger at the last question.  How many times must they go over this? 

"To something as foolish as this?" Legolas answered with his own question, his tone a mixture of hate and disbelief.  "Your claims are lacking both substantial justification and any hints of evidence to-"

"SILENCE!" Théoden commanded while stamping his foot loudly to bring order to the Elf's unnecessary words and the stir of commotion that had traveled throughout the room.  "You will answer what you are asked and say no more!  Do you understand?"

"I do not answer to you or your people!" Legolas shouted back, his feeble grip on his self-control slipping away with each passing moment.  "I shall say all that I wan-"

His declaration was cut sharply off by a fist contacting with the side of his jaw, his head snapping back as a spot of blood automatically appeared at the side of his lip.  A scuffle erupted off to his left and, from the corner of his eye, Legolas could see both Aragorn and Gimli being restrained in their seats by their own guards, their bound hands useless in their struggles. 

To Aragorn's right sat Gandalf, looking tired and for once appearing his age.  His staff was gone, taken upon his arrival against his will and held somewhere within the King's makeshift chambers, far out of his reach.  Looking at the old wizard now, Legolas could not help but wonder what was wrong with him.  Why did he seem so very old, so weary?  Why was he not helping his and Aragorn's plight? 

Something had changed in the wise man since his arrival at the fort the morning before that Legolas could not quite place.  His eyes seemed vacant, all the fight and will to lead sucked clean out of them and leaving behind a mere shell of his former self.  It was frightening for the Elf to look upon.  To see the one that had held such power for longer then the Elf's immortal life thus far be so weak and fragile in appearance.  If he knew no better, he would have sworn that Gandalf was just like any old human, delaying the days until his passing while he constantly searched for a meaning to it all.

"Since you so stubbornly refuse to make your plea," Théoden's voice broke into the Elf's worried thoughts and brought his mind back to the conversation at hand.  "It would appear that your conscious has finally taken a grip upon you and refuses to allow you to spread more lies." Théoden started firmly and, for the surrounding Rohan men, convincingly. 

To all save one.

"My lord," Éomer cut in silently, moving in closer to his uncle's ear so to keep the conversation between only them.  He had been standing by the back of Théoden's chair, keeping an eye over the preceding even though he did not agree with them.  The notion that this Elf was evil seemed both folly and incredible.  Yet, as much as he wanted to help his three new friends in their struggle, he also held a duty and responsibility to his people and his uncle.  With that extent of inner conflict, he had restricted himself to just watching over the trail and making his own decision based upon the facts presented while also keeping an eye on the mob that seemed out for Legolas' blood. 

"Perhaps," he started cautiously, "you are being slightly hasty in your decision.  There really is no-"

"Hold your tongue, Éomer," Théoden spat at the man as if he were no more then a slave, "else you may be seen as one of them." 

Opening and closing his mouth in a loss of what to do, Éomer took a small step back, his teeth biting into his bottom lip in worry.  Casting a quick look over to Aragorn, he offered the human as much condolence as he could under the current circumstances. 

He knew that Aragorn and Legolas were close – how close he was uncertain – and so, looking at Aragorn, he could see the panic clearly in his eyes as he watched his friend straighten himself up from the blow to the head.  Aragorn seemed fatigued, haggard and worried.  Dark circles ringed his eyes for, as Éomer knew, he had not slept since the departure of Edoras.  There had been little time for rest before the battle, and Éomer himself witnessed Aragorn's feeble attempts of trying to clam the somewhat irrational and confused Elf the night before.

It had been a sight that Éomer could have lived happily without seeing.  Legolas did not understand the ways and customs of men and so the thought of going on trial in a human land had almost driven him to the point of having a nervous breakdown.  The charges against him did naught to console the archer either, and, as much as Aragorn hushed him or simply hugged the Elf to his chest, Legolas seemed to not be able to get his head around the proclaimed arraignments. 

To his credit, Legolas did look much better now; his shaking had stopped and he was able to get out a full sentence without stuttering or emitting a slight hiccup.  The Elf had regained his usual composure, not allowing the shame-seeking humans to see his fear or confusion as he stood tall and proud behind the trial gate.  It almost seemed as if the Elf held an air of royalty to him; his face so well trained into not displaying any emotion that it seemed proper that he had had a great deal of experience with the entire façade.  Even when Théoden resumed speaking, Legolas would not allow even the slightest sliver of uncontrolled emotion to pass over his face. 

After having successfully silenced his nephew, the king turned his attention back to the Elf who was wiping blood from his mouth with chained hands.   "Your unwillingness to admit to your guilt is all the evidence that we need to prove it."

"That is ridiculous!" both Aragorn and Legolas shouted at the same time, one leaning over the wooden pole that he was chained behind, the other once again trying to leap from his chair. 

"You can not make such empty assumptions!" Aragorn continued as the two guards gripped his shoulders and forced him back into his seat.  Who was Théoden to judge Legolas?  Unbridled dread clutched at his heart as the acidic taste of bile rose in the back of his throat.  Eyes darting over to Legolas, he saw the faintest glimmer of terror pass over the pale, schooled face of his friend and now, more then ever, he wished that it were he in the Elf's position.

What had happened these past days?  How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

"You will stay silent, Aragorn," Théoden shouted over the curses flowing from the Ranger's mouth as he struggled against the larger and more advantaged guards that loomed above him.  "Or you shall be made silent!"

"I will not-"

"Aragorn!" Legolas hissed at the man, stopping his sentence in the middle of his statement.  Indeed, Aragorn was trying to help, but in reality all he was doing was putting himself in a more dangerous situation while condemning Legolas with his outbursts.  Théoden was already furious and the last thing that they needed was to have the king enraged. 

Théoden once again looked to Legolas, his stare harsh and cold and the archer found himself returning the glare threefold. 

"I have made my decision." Théoden started bluntly as he continued to let his gaze pierce the Elf and vice versa. 

An excited buzz went up in the crowd as the king made his declaration.  It was as if they were waiting for it, their lives hanging on every word that their leader spoke.  Their minds seemed enable to focus on anything but the conviction that the Elf was to receive, their hate and blood-lust overwhelming their senses to a point of utter madness.  Again, Legolas could see in their eyes that they wanted him dead – or to suffer – but he dared not say anything on the topic.  Not after last time...not after what had landed him in this mess in the first place. 

"Legolas," a hush fell to the point that even the mortals could hear each and every heart beat within the room, "you have been trialed for of both being a spy of Saruman and having practiced the Dark Arts of Necromancy by Psychomancy." Théoden said coldly, his words bouncing off the now dead silent stone room.  "For such crimes against the people of Rohan, you have, through your silence, condemned yourself and proven your guilt.  The punishment for such crimes is death...death by flame." 

*****

Tbc... 

For those wondering, Psychomancy means, and I quote from the Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology, "by men's souls, affections, wills, religious beliefs or moral dispositions."

So, was that as different as you were expecting?  I hope so.  All will be explained soon...you will just have to read to find out! *pokes tongue out*

As always, please review.

Minka.