(A/N This chapter has some gory parts in it, nothing too bad, but a little more violent than what I usually write. Just letting you know.)

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This is all my fault...
Legolas had repeated those words to himself ever since he and his friends had been captured. He knew that Aragorn wouldn't blame him, and he knew that Gimli wouldn't blame him either, but that wasn't enough to keep him from blaming himself.

If I hadn't been so selfish, looking after myself when I should have been protecting them...
A hard shove from behind nearly caused Legolas to stumble. He shot an icy glare (something he had picked up from his father) at the man who had shoved him. He was satisfied when he saw the man startle at his uncanny stare.

Legolas turned his attention back to the road in front of him. Dronar had ordered his men to keep the prisoners separate from one another as they traveled and Legolas understood why. If one of them tried to escape, they would have a difficult time freeing the others without getting themselves recaptured or killed.

Despite this Legolas scanned the unfamiliar faces for those of his companions. He had counted twenty five men total, not including Dronar. Twenty one versus eight, Legolas did not like those odds. Had it been orcs Legolas wouldn't consider that a problem; but these were men, cruel and cunning, which made them dangerous. Unlike orcs they didn't blindly rush into things, they planned, thought things through before carrying them out. It would be difficult to escape them alive, but not impossible.

Legolas caught sight of Boromir up ahead, though he hardly knew him he was glad to see at least one familiar face. What the elf wasn't happy about was how openly Dronar despised both the Gondorian and Aragorn. Legolas knew without a shadow of a doubt that Dronar would kill them, when and how he did not yet know. What he did know was that he needed to get all of his companions out of Dronar's clutches as soon as possible.

If it wasn't for me they would not be here now, Legolas lowered his head as he walked. How could he not blame himself? For as long as he could remember Aragorn had always relied on him to be aware of danger. Legolas' senses far surpassed that of his mortal friends and he had sworn to himself that he would his abilities to aid and protect his friends.

Yet when they needed me the most is when I failed, Legolas knew that his lack of sleep is what had dulled his senses. His stubborn refusal to allow his body to rest had proved to be their downfall. He'd known that Aragorn had been suspicious of him, so had Gimli. It was normal for an elf to go a few days without rest, but Legolas had purposefully avoided rest of any kind.

Because if he allowed himself to relax, to let the barriers that protected his mind falter, they would come. The nightmares, the same ones he had while under the sleep that the Nazgúl had wrought upon him. Legolas had thought that they would leave him after he awoke, but they didn't. They returned to him again and again, night after night.

Only they had become worse, far worse. His father would still appear first just as before, then Aragorn, Gimli, and everyone else who had always come before. They no longer spoke to him, berated him or anything of the sort, instead they would appear out of the shadows, like phantoms with twisted smiles.

Then the torturing would begin, it was something new every night, a game the phantoms of his friends and family played, and he was the toy in their sick game. He'd always been immobilised in some way; chained to a wall, tied to a post, strapped onto a wooden bed, sometimes they held him still themselves, their clawed hands digging into his flesh.

Then the game would begin, the goal was always the same: Make him scream, if Legolas screamed the game was over. The worst part of these nightmares though, was that no matter how hard Legolas tried, he couldn't scream. Legolas hadn't been able to take it any longer, he stopped sleeping, avoiding rest whenever possible.

He hadn't told Aragorn about his nightmares, how could he? Especially when in each one, Legolas ended up killing someone. Every time he'd reach the end of his endurance inhuman strength seemed to overtake him, he'd break free from his bonds and lash out at the first phantom he saw.

Then he would scream.

His screams always felt as if his throat would tear itself in half, red would take over his vision and he wouldn't stop until whoever he was attacking was dead. As the red cleared from his vision he would see the face of the one he had killed, and they would not appear as phantoms, but as he always knew them.

That was when he'd wake up, frightened and trembling. Legolas never told anyone about his nightmares, he was going to tell Aragorn after the first nightmare, but after accidentally overhearing what his friend had told Boromir about going to Gondor, his nightmares didn't seem as important. Aragorn already had enough troubles without having to worry about him, Legolas figured that he would have to deal with it himself.

And look where that has gotten you, captured by men who have little to no regard for life.
After several more hours of walking Dronar finally called for a rest. Four men had been assigned to guard each of them and Legolas noted that his "guards" seemed to be wary of him. After what Thilald had said about elves Legolas was more than certain that a majority of Dronar's men were afraid of him. Thilald had even convinced Dronar to leave him alone just out of superstition.

This could work in our favor, Legolas thought as he was marched over to a spot away from his friends and forced roughly to his knees. Did they expect him to kneel the whole time they were here? Legolas attempted to move into a more comfortable position when one of the guards grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back to his former position.

The sudden movement caused a sharp pain in Legolas' back where the whip had struck him. It hadn't hurt as much as he thought it would, compared to the lashings he received in his nightmares it was nothing. Legolas shuddered and banished all thoughts of his nightmares from his mind. He could not afford to think of those things now.

Instead the elf focused on checking his surroundings. The men moved about the camp preparing a fire while others cleaned and sharpened their weapons. Legolas caught sight of the hobbits on the other side of the clearing, at least they were able to stay together. The four hobbits were huddled together, wide eyes taking in their surroundings. Legolas truly felt sorry for them; they'd never been in a situation like this before, seeing the fear in little Pippin's eyes instilled anger in Legolas' heart. He was the youngest out of all of them, he must be terrified!

He wished that he could at least go over to assure them that everything would be alright; but Dronar was determined to keep them separated, and Legolas didn't want to do anything to cause trouble for the rest of his companions. Frodo glanced in his direction and their eyes met. Legolas could see the guilt that was consuming him which only added to his rapidly growing anger. Legolas smiled, hoping that Frodo would see that this wasn't his fault, but the hobbit quickly averted his gaze.

Ai Frodo, this isn't your fault, you were only trying to keep us safe. Frodo's heart had been in the right place when he made the "deal" with Dronar to spare his friend's life; but his innocence had blinded him to the deceit that laced Dronar's words. Hobbits never had to face situations such as this, they were used to the comforts of their warm homes and cheerful faces, if someone gave them their word they had no doubt in their minds that they would keep it. That was what Legolas considered the most unfair for the hobbits, their innocence was being taken from them.

Their whole lives had been lived sheltered from the evil that dwelled in the world, Legolas knew that if they somehow got out of this, and managed to complete this quest of theirs, the hobbits would never be able to return to their normal lives.

It was cold truth that Legolas himself had been forced to accept many years ago, and something the world wasn't keen on letting him forget.

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Thilald made his way over to where his brother was sitting and gloating over their capture of the prisoners, as if he had done it singlehandedly. Thilald was the youngest out of them all, he was also small and lanky. He had a narrow face with dull brown eyes, his shoulder length hair was a similar shade of brown. Though he was considerably weaker than the rest of his brother's men, he was far swifter than they were. He was quick with a knife and could sneak past almost anyone unseen, as a boy he had stolen money and jewelry right from under people's noses.

It was those qualities that convinced Dronar to let him accompany his band of men on this endeavor of his. Dronar took "jobs" from whoever was willing to pay, and he did not work cheap. Whoever had hired his brother's services this time around must have had a lot of money on hand if he wanted four halflings (specifically the four they had captured) brought to him alive and unspoiled.

The young vagabond however, was nervous concerning the other four prisoners. There was something about them that seemed, unnatural. The way they all sat around the camp, completely emotionless as they kneeled before their captors, it wasn't natural. People whom Dronar took captive would tremble and refuse to make eye contact with those who guarded them. When the time came for Dronar and his men to have a little fun with their captives, they would crawl and beg for mercy.

The two men, dwarf, and elf did none of those things. In fact; they seemed determined to lock eyes with anyone who passed them, which soon resulted in every single one of Dronar's men avoiding looking at the prisoners altogether. But the elf though, he was the worst out of them all. It was those eyes, they weren't natural, it looked as if they could see into your very soul. Thilald feared that if given the chance, the elf would look into his mind and discover every secret he had, or worse take over his mind.

Dronar said those were just stories that parents told their children before bed, or to get them to behave. But after seeing an elf with his own eyes, Thilald had a hard time believing him. He could almost feel his gaze burning into his back right now...

Thilald glanced over his shoulder where the elf knelt, bound and surrounded by four men who had their backs to him. Just as he'd expected the elf was staring directly at him. Immediately Thilald turned away, muttering a curse under his breath. Dronar noticed his brother and waved him over.

"What's the matter Thilald? You look like you've just seen a ghost," Dronar moved over to give Thilald room to sit on the ground next to him. "It's that cursed elf," Thilald growled, "I swear he's doing something to mess with our minds. You should have him killed before he turns us all on each other."

A man sitting across from them, who had a thick black beard that reminded Thilald of a bush, laughed at his statement. "Are you honestly afraid of that elf?" he asked taking a sip of ale.
"No!" Thilald exclaimed. "Of course not!" Amused chuckles came from the six other men gathered around a small fire. Dronar placed a hand on Thilald's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Trust me brother that elf is completely harmless. He couldn't hurt a fly, even if he was really trying." More laughter ensued from the men while Thilald's expression remained cold.
"He's too dainty! Just look at him," another man, one with short dirty hair and a crooked smile, sneered as he nodded in the elf's direction, "Small and skinny, he looks more like a fairy than the elves our father's tried to scare us with."

Thilald sighed as the men continued to laugh. Was he the only one who believed that the elf was dangerous? Why wouldn't they believe him? Turning to the man who had just spoken, Thilald tilted his head to the side and asked, "Tell me Helmund, when you tried to shoot the Ranger, who was it that managed to deflect your arrow with one of his own just seconds after you fired it?"

Everyone fell silent after that, save Helmund who didn't look the least bit concerned with Thilald's observation.
"So he's handy with a bow, so what? He doesn't have his weapons now, what's he going to do? I think you're letting all those stories get to your head boy, perhaps you should go home to your mother, she can protect you from the terrible fairy elf."

Thilald was about to get up but his brother's outstretched arm kept him in place.
"Watch your tongue Helmund, just because I said you were my best archer doesn't make you anything special around here." Dronar narrowed his remaining eye at Helmund, who cowered under his leader's gaze.
"Listen closely Helmund; there are only two men here who are allowed to give orders and who are to be respected: me and my brother. If I find you disrespecting Thilald again I'll cut your tongue out and we'll see how eager you are to run your mouth afterwards, understood?"

Helmund nodded warily and shrunk away from Dronar. Thilald glanced sideways at his brother and smiled, "Thanks."

"You know that one of these days you're going to have to learn how to stand up for yourself Thilald, I may not always be around to do it for you." Thilald nodded, his smile faded. Dronar patted his back lightly, the slightest trace of a smile on his face.
"Don't worry brother, I don't plan on keeping the elf alive for much longer, but first I'm going to take my revenge."

Thilald looked at his brother after glancing in the direction of the dark haired man. Dronar glanced at Thilald curiously.
"How did you know that he was a Ranger?" He asked. Thilald shrugged in response and for a moment said nothing.
"When do you plan on killing him?" Thilald asked finally turning back to Dronar. His brother grinned as a dangerous gleam shone in his eyes. "Soon Thilald, very soon."

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Frodo's feet dragged through the dry leaves as he was forced to keep up with the long strides of the men. He hadn't spoken a word since their capture, and for the last few days he'd been refusing any of the food their captors offered, no matter how much Sam and the others begged.

All Frodo wanted was to die, that was what he deserved wasn't it? He let his friends be captured and he would be responsible for their deaths. Although Dronar hadn't said aloud that he was going to kill the others Frodo knew that he was going to any day now. Whoever had ordered Dronar to capture him and his fellow hobbits did not want extra prisoners.

Where were they being led to anyway? Where did this man or whatever he was live anyway? Did he truly know about the Ring or did they have a suspicion only? Too many questions and not a single answer. Frodo wished for what seemed like the millionth time that he hadn't ever offered to be the ring bearer, how could he protect something as powerful as the Ring if he couldn't even keep his friends safe?

I wish that I could just wake up and find that this is all a bad dream.
It was a wish that Frodo knew was impossible.
At dusk Dronar once again called for his men to stop. Frodo and the other hobbits were shoved onto the ground (away from the others of course) and watched as the men began to set up camp.

Frodo searched the busy camp for their friends and saw Gimli being forced to his knees. Dronar always made them kneel, the hobbits were free to lay down if they wished, in fact they were hardly given any attention by the men. How long had it been since they had been captured? Frodo had lost count, but it must have been a week at most.

Merry would probably know, he thought turning towards his cousin. As usual Merry was studying their captors; Frodo didn't know what he was trying to accomplish by watching them all the time, but he knew that Merry was an observer by nature. He watched and studied things, learning how and why they did what they did.

It was usually best to let him do his thing. A man came over and tossed a small bag of food in front of them. The hobbits hands had been retied to where they were in front of them instead of behind their backs so that they could eat, yet Frodo still wasn't hungry.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's quiet voice turned Frodo's head in his direction.
"Won't you eat? Please?" Sam was holding up a small piece of bread, offering it to him with a hopeful expression. The thought of eating something made Frodo feel sick to his stomach. He didn't want food, he wanted his friends to be safe.

Seeing that he wasn't going to accept the bread Sam put it aside for later, Frodo knew that his friend would try again later. Pippin was nibbling on his bread, trying to make it last as long as possible. They were only fed twice a day; which had greatly distressed Pippin who had already been having a hard time adjusting to only three meals a day.

Frodo worried for Pippin most of all. The youngest hobbit was frightened out of his wits. He was scared for himself, for Frodo, and their friends. Poor Pippin had cried himself to sleep the first night of their capture, he hadn't been able to get the image of Boromir's bloodied face out of his head, and he feared for what was to come for him.

Frodo wanted to comfort him but he didn't have the heart to. No words came to him, and his own hope for escape or rescue was beginning to dwindle. Merry hadn't touched his share of bread either, he continued to watch the men go by, his brow wrinkled in concentration.

Merry leaned over suddenly and whispered,
"Something's not right."
For the first time in days Frodo spoke,
"What do you mean?"

"Look at them, Dronar's men." Merry gestured towards the men with his head, not at all surprised that his cousin had just spoken. Frodo did as he was told and looked at the men, there didn't seem to be anything different about them. The only odd thing he noticed was that they seemed to be building a large fire in the middle of the clearing instead of making several small fires around the camp.
"What are you talking about Merry?"

"They're excited," Merry's voice rose slightly, "Can't you tell by their faces?"
Frodo tried looking at their captors again, this time he studied their faces until he saw exactly what Merry did.
"They are excited," Frodo whispered back, "but what could they possibly be excited about?"

"I don't know," Merry replied turning his attention to Dronar as the one eyed man walked by, a cruel and almost eager smile on his lips.
"Something bad is about to happen Frodo," Merry straightened himself and watched as Dronar neared the other side of the camp. A knot of worry twisted Frodo's stomach when he saw where he was headed.

Dronar bent down and grabbed Aragorn by the arm, hauling him roughly to his feet and forcing the Ranger to follow him to the center of the clearing. There were only a few trees near their camp, but there was enough open space for all twenty five of Dronar's men to gather around their leader.

"I think we've all been waiting a long time for this, haven't we boys?" A chorus of cheers and enthusiastic shouts greeted Dronar's words. Frodo couldn't see Aragorn from where he sat, too many men were in the way. He stood up and since everyone's attention was on Dronar, no one hindered him.

Frodo quietly crept up behind the gathered men, his chest tightened when he saw Dronar clutching Aragorn by the arm, showing him off as if he was a hunter bragging about his latest hunt. The glow of the fire cast strange shadows across the faces of the men, making Frodo shudder.
"This fool of a man thought that he could kill my men, steal my prisoners, and humiliate me without consequences!" Dronar continued, cries of outrage and curses filled the air, throughout it all Aragorn remained silent and impassive.

"Well tonight, we get to have our revenge!"
A wild, almost animal like roar came from the men that chilled Frodo's bones.
Dronar started making his way towards the edge of the clearing and the crowd followed, all shouting and throwing insults at the Ranger.

As the men moved by him Frodo caught sight of Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas. The three were kneeling on the ground side by side with two men holding each of them in place. None of them were bothering to hide the fear in their eyes, not fear for themselves, but for Aragorn.

It was the first time Frodo had ever seen them truly afraid, and that in itself frightened him. Frodo forced himself to turn back to where Dronar and Aragorn were. The knot in Frodo's tightened when he saw that they were standing beside a tree, Dronar was watching with a smirk as two of his men approached, carrying a rope between them.

"What are they going to do to him?" Pippin's voice startled Frodo, who hadn't noticed the other hobbits standing behind him.
"I don't know," Frodo replied. The four hobbits crept closer, watching as the two men began tying a knot in the rope. When they held it up for the others to see Frodo was confused to see that they had made a loop with the rope, it reminded him of a leash.

What are they going to with that?
Frodo looked over at Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas. e color drained from his face when he saw the look of pure terror on their faces. They knew what was about to happen, and if it scared them then Frodo knew that he should be scared as well.

"Dronar's talking again," Sam whispered to Frodo. When he looked Frodo could see that Dronar had his hand grasping Aragorn's face, just as he had done to Legolas, and had stopped shouting but kept his voice loud enough to where the others could hear.

"I'm going to give you a choice, you can get on your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and I can assure you that you will have a quick, painless death. And..." Dronar twisted Aragorn's head to the left where he could clearly see Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas. "Your friends will not have to suffer either. All of you can receive a swift death or I can prolongue your deaths and make them as slow and painful as possible. It's your choice."

Frodo watched Aragorn, in his mind he was begging for the Ranger to fight back, to not just stand there and let Dronar do whatever terrible thing it was that he had planned for him, but Aragorn did nothing but stare silently at Dronar, his answer clear.

"Fine," Dronar growled, "have it your way then!"
The two men who held the rope pulled the noose over Aragorn's head just as Dronar stepped back. The rest of the rope was thrown over a tree branch that hung a good ten feet off the ground, there were two men waiting to grab the end of the rope when it landed on the ground.

"What are they doing?!" Pippin looked as if he was about to start crying, Sam's eyes were wide with horror, and Merry looked as pale as a ghost. Frodo couldn't tear his eyes away from Aragorn, the man's gaze was calm, but his entire body was tense. One of the men checked to make sure that the noose was tight around Aragorn's neck before nodding towards the two men who held the rope.

Suddenly they yanked hard on the rope; once and then a second time. That was when the hobbits realized what the men were doing, and Frodo felt as if he was going to be sick. Aragorn was hanging completely off the ground, his eyes were squeezed shut and face twisted in pain as the noose around his neck tightened, choking him. His body jerked as he struggled to free himself from his bonds while the men around him laughed.

Just then the two men let go of the rope and Aragorn fell onto the ground. He lay on his side curled in on himself, Frodo could hear him gasping as he tried to bring air back into his lungs, and could see his pale face in the light of the fire. Frodo wanted to scream when the men pulled on the rope, hoisting Aragorn above the ground, laughing as he fought to breathe as he was strangled by the rope.

The men laughed, tears ran down the hobbits' faces, the three warriors on the other side of the clearing fought against their captors.

The rope was released and Aragorn fell. He was barely given a rest before he was dangling by his neck once again. As if it couldn't get any worse, Dronar was now standing behind the Ranger, a whip in his hand. Raising his arm Dronar cracked the whip against Aragorn's back, his mouth opened in a strangled scream. The whip lashed against Aragorn's back and bound arms for a second time, then the rope was released.

Frodo willed for his legs to move, he wanted to run over to where his friend lay on the ground, to protect him from the men who beat him.

No, these are not men, Frodo looked at the silhouettes of the men who cheered as Dronar struck Aragorn for a third time. These are monsters.

Dronar whipped Aragorn for a fourth time before backing away, signaling for his men to raise the rope again.
"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Pippin screamed startling the other hobbits. A few men turned to look at him and laughed at his protests, one stomped over and shoved the youngest onto the ground.

"What are you going to do about it rat? Are you going to stop us? Are- OW!" The man hobbled on one foot, grasping his leg and muttering curses. Merry was standing between the man and his cousin, he had kicked the man in the shin, and was ready to do it again if he threatened his cousin again.

"Why you little, come here!" The man grabbed Merry by the arms which spurred Sam and Frodo into action. Merry struggled against the man while Frodo and Sam tried to fight him off. A scream from Merry caught the attention of Dronar and the rest of his men, all looked towards the hobbits and for a moment Aragorn was forgotten as he lay on the ground, struggling to regain his senses.

Frodo knew why Merry had screamed, the man had grabbed his injured arm, and after realizing that the action was causing Merry pain, the man tightened his grip.
Boromir and the others had noticed and were trying harder than ever to escape their captors, and they were succeeding.
"Hey! Someone help us over here!" A man shouted who was struggling to hold onto Boromir.

Several man ran over to help, cries of pain could be heard as someone was elbowed in the face or kicked by the struggling captives. Dronar was struggling to restore order but chaos had broken loose in the camp. Merry was still screaming as his tormentor continued to tighten his grip on Merry's arm, Frodo and Sam were being held back by two other men, and others were just now subduing Boromir and Gimli.

Then it happened; with a shout of rage Legolas threw off the men trying to subdue him. He twisted himself out of their grasp and charged across the clearing, straight towards the man holding Merry.

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Helmund was thoroughly enjoying himself, the Ranger was being tortured to death, and the filthy halflings had actually tried to stop them! The halfling who had kicked him was being punished himself, Helmund didn't know why the creature was screaming so much, only that it had something to do with his arm.

He was so enthralled with the pain he was causing that he didn't hear the warnings his comrades shouted at him. Suddenly Helmund was knocked onto his side, the halfing was released as something crashed into him. The archer barely had time to think before a boot slammed into his face. Blood filled his mouth and several teeth were knocked loose.

The boot slammed into his face again, there was a loud *crack* as Helmund's nose broke. The boot came down again, this time crushing his windpipe. His vision started to blur as his headed was and face was stomped on again and again....

The boot came down one last time, and Helmund saw no more.

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Once Legolas realized that the man lying before him was no longer breathing, he backed away, looking at the mutilated face before him. He hated killing this way, yes he had only been trying to help his friend, but the way he had beat that man to death was wrong, so wrong. Elves, when forced to kill, ensured that their opponents' deaths were quick and painless. They did not relish in the taking of another being's life, save orcs.

Legolas tried to tell himself that he'd had no choice, the man was evil, twisted beyond help. But why did he feel so guilty? A deathly silence had filled the camp, no one moved or spoke, all shocked speechless by what they had just witnessed. Legolas himself could not tear his eyes away from the man he had just killed, his breath came out in quick gasps and his body trembled.

So lost was the elf that he didn't hear the men creeping up behind him until Sam shouted, "Legolas behind you!" By the time Legolas turned around it was too late. Five men crashed into him, and more followed. Legolas thrashed and twisted his body, the men grabbed his legs and held them down. Legolas' face was pressed against the earth, a hand forcing his head to remain in place. Knees dug into his back and despite his struggles the elf couldn't free himself.

Slow, clapping hands caught Legolas' attention and he knew immediately that it was Dronar though he could not see him. "Impressive elf, very impressive." The clapping ceased and the men holding down Legolas hauled him to his feet, two men held onto his arms and a knife was placed against his neck, the only thing keeping him from fighting back. Dronar stood in front of Legolas, his fake smile didn't do much to hide the fury in his eyes.

"It seems as though I underestimated you elf, I thought that the only thing you could do was shoot that fancy bow of yours, yet you managed to kill a man with your hands bound, incredible." Dronar began to circle him, Legolas could feel his gaze moving over him and his unease grew. "You are a strange creature elf," Dronar continued, "you clearly posses some kind of inhuman strength; yet instead of using it to save yourself you waste it for the sake of a halfling!"

Legolas kept his expression neutral and tried to ignore the beast circling him. He hated this man, in all his life Legolas had never truly hated a certain individual, but now that he was experiencing it for the first time he realized what a truly horrible feeling hate was. "You heal so quickly too, why this wound of yours has nearly healed."

Legolas shuddered when he felt Dronar's fingers brushing against the lash on his back. The man disgusted him. "Do not touch me." Legolas growled.

"So he can talk!" Dronar's comment received several laughs from the men, but it seemed as though many of them were afraid to make fun of the elf after seeing what he could do to a man when angered. "Answer this for me elf," Dronar came to stand in front of Legolas, a smile on his lips. "Can elves be killed, or can they walk away from any injury unscathed?"

Legolas' only reply was a dwarvish curse that he had learned from Gimli, something that should never come out of a prince's mouth. Not understanding what he said Dronar's smile faded and he turned to his men saying, "Remove his shirt."

Legolas tensed as his shirt was torn from him and thrown onto the ground, he saw the whip in Dronar's hand and knew what was coming. To make matters worse something hanging around his neck had caught Dronar's eye. "What's this?" The man lifted the stone leaf and inspected it in his hand. Legolas tried to back away but the men holding him kept him from doing so.

"Not a very impressive trinket, I doubt that it's worth anything." Legolas kept his breathing steady despite the fact that he wanted to scream. "Still," Dronar continued, "it might be worth something in some far off village. I think I'll take it."

"No!" Legolas lunged forward as Dronar yanked the stone leaf from his neck. Dronar dismissed the elf's rage as he pocketed the stone. "Tie him to that tree," the man ordered, sounding almost bored. Legolas continued to fight against the men who were struggling to bring their prisoner where their leader had ordered them too.

When they started untying Legolas' hand the elf knew what they were going to do to him. He would be pressed against the tree, and his arms would be wrapped around it, then they'd tie his hands together again. It had happened to him before, in his nightmares he had been tied the same way, only this wasn't a nightmare. He was going to be whipped, not just one lash but as many as Dronar decided, he wouldn't be able to wake up, the wounds would be real.

Fear flooded the elf's senses and took over. He struggled andfought, desperately trying to free himself. His friends had never seen him like this; and all of them were afraid. Then he saw it, saw him. Dronar, holding the whip and sneering, only it wasn't Dronar that Legolas saw, it was his brother.

Lasstor...

All of his captors had changed, no longer Dronar's men, but the phantoms from his nightmares. No, no not this! Not again!

Had he fallen asleep? What was happening?! How could the phantoms have entered the real world? It was impossible! Unless this was one of his nightmares? How was he supposed to know?!

"I'm going to enjoy this," Legolas faced the phantom Lasstor, his eyes were completely black and his teeth were like the fangs of a wolf. Clawed hands cracked the whip they held on the ground. "What can you do to stop me? Nothing. I will always be stronger than you, and you will never have the courage to face me."

Silence.

Everything else around Legolas faded. No noise, no phantoms, no world.

All that was there was himself, Lasstor, and the color red.

Then he screamed.

He tore himself free and ran. Each step seemed to crush the earth beneath him, the only sound that could be heard was his scream. Then he collided with Lasstor, he fought blindly as red completely overtook his vision. His hand wrapped around something; a knife. He rose it over his head and brought it down on Lasstor's chest.

The blade sunk itself into his brother's chest but it wasn't enough. Legolas pulled it out and stabbed him again.

And again....

And again....

Until the red faded from his sight Legolas stabbed him over and over. This wasn't the same as when he killed the other man, that had been a matter of protecting his friend. This was all for vengeance.

When the red finally cleared Legolas released the knife, letting the bloodied blade fall with a soft *thump* onto the grass. He looked down at his hands, they were red with blood. Finally Legolas faced what he had done.

Dronar's eye stared blankly at the sky, his lips parted with blood trickling from his open mouth. His chest was covered in scarlet, black holes could be seen where the knife had been plunged and then ripped out of his body.

I killed him, Legolas did not feel the same horror he had felt earlier, instead all he felt was sick satisfaction. Was this vengeance? Is this what hate wrought upon those who fell under its influence?

Blinking once Legolas searched the dead body for the two items Dronar had stolen. He took the stone leaf and held it tightly in his hand, then he took Aragorn's sword before stepping away from the corpse.

None of the men dared to move. In one night two men had been killed, and one of them had been their leader. The only who moved was Thilald, who ran to his brother's lifeless, bloody form. "Dronar? Dronar please, don't do this to me." Tears filled Thilald's eyes as he gripped Dronar's hand. Legolas watched him in silence. When Thilald met his gaze his eyes were filled with grief, and anger.

"You killed him!" Thilald shouted, "you killed my brother!" Legolas didn't respond as Thilald turned to the men surrounding them. "Kill the elf! KILL HIM!"

Legolas raised the sword in his hand but he never had to use it, and the men never had a chance to move forward. A bright, blinding light flooded the clearing. Sending several men to the ground. Legolas closed his eyes and averted his gaze, when he opened them there was nothing but darkness, save the pale light illuminating the last person Legolas had expected to see.

Gandalf?