I walked stiff-backed out of the forest to find Gimli poking at the dying embers. Somehow his dwarf ears picked up on my rabbit-soft feet—ears of a hawk indeed—and gave a grunt of a greeting.

I didn't bother with a greeting of my own, no, I barely noticed his own welcome. The flash of a knife, spraying crimson, the age-old light finally going out in a King's eyes, kept playing over and over in my mind.

I took up a spot just outside the ring of warmth the dying fire emitted, the rocky soil digging into my back. But I couldn't bear to look up at the dark, early morning sky. I didn't want to have to look at the stars.

So, I turned onto my shoulder and ignored the sharp pain of a gruesome rock digging into my flesh.

The wailings of my people wouldn't go away. No, their cries of learning of their King's death only resounded in my ears.

In my mind's eye, I saw once again how some fell to the soil in their grief, saw little children placing flowers outside the fortress' walls, saw the gray mourning clothing billowing in the breeze.

Without their knowing, I had stood above them, watching with an unmovable body as they flung their shaking hands in the air wailing:

"May the King find peace in Mandos's Halls!"

"Where is our Prince? Where is he in our time of darkness?!"

"Who would dare kill the King of Greenwood the Great?"

"Does our Prince abandon us?! Does he leave us to our own despair?!"

Tears streaked my people's faces, although some held hate and anger in their far-seeing eyes. Did they abhor the King-Slayer? Or did they abhor the Prince that leaves them alone in this terrible time—me? I'm afraid I don't want to know.

My pale fingers clenching at fallen leaves and dirt brought me back to the clearing.

The others slept around me (minus Gimli) not knowing the greatest King of the age had been ripped from this world. If they knew, what would they do? Offer me condolences? Argue for me to head back to become the ruler my people need? Or will they say nothing at all?

They will say nothing—they do not care about you.

I shook my head against Morgalen's words, but I didn't deny it. Morgalen—the elf that is me but not. The elf that manifested itself when the Ring had taken control. He's the Greenleaf that has gone rotten—the Blackleaf. I didn't know if Morgalen had always been hidden in the deepest troves of my mind, created by my darkest thoughts and memories or if he had been manifested by the Ring.

But still, my eyes fill with the visions of my Father's death. They floated before me while my fellow elves cried out for a Prince that is not with them. Flashes of a dwarf with a sword embedded in his chest, a man with his head crowned with brown hair several feet away from his body, a young woman with star-white hair had a fountain of blood quickly soaking through the front of her chest came and went. Will my father be the first death of many? My head says yes while my heart screams no.

Hot tears leaked from my eyes, spilling over onto my cheek, rolling until they met the soil. My shoulders shook with barely suppressed sobs—I almost didn't care that I could feel Gimli's eyes set on my back.

I've already lost one parent, why did I have to lose another?! Along with mother and father, who else will I lose in this folly full quest? What follows the events of our future?

I did not dare let my grieving mind dwell too long on the thought.

Instead, I thought to Sauron. Once I stand before him in Mordor, he must protect my friends. He must protect my people and keep them from a political downfall until I find my way back to them. Until the crown of leaves and twigs rest upon my head.

My shoulders shook while my grief continued to press down on me. I will not be the great and strong leader my people need. I will not be able to do what needs to be done. No, Legolas cannot do that.

Only Morgalen can.

So, with no other choice, I let down my wobbly mental shield to let the preying Morgalen in. He pounced like a wolf.

*********

I gasp wildly, sucking in air as my gritty eyes go wide. Cool, fresh air met my throat, my lungs—not musty damp air from grim towers, not bitterly cold sulfuric air, not even the putrid air of The Pits. No, just clean, refreshingly fresh air. It was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes.

My gasping soon turned to hacking as the sides of my throat stuck together from lack of water—lack of everything. Twisting my body around, I pound my fist on the mixture of grassy-rocky ground, trying to will the insufferable coughing away, but only succeeded in getting a bloody hand. Silver fell in smooth waves around me, shielding me from the world.

But I'm tired of being shielded from the world—my world—the world in which my friends reside in. Not a world where a Dark Lord and terrible creatures are my only company.

I slight pressure on my shoulder has me whirling around. Aragorn holds out a water skin, his eyes wide with surprise, but his shoulders drooped in relief as I took the canteen and greedily drank. The bitter water felt fantastic against my throat and the onslaught of dizziness became bearable.

I was almost tempted to close my eyes—and I would've if not for my fear that this could all be a dream. That Sauron will pull away the illusion once again. But the water flowing through my mouth felt real. The winter hair cascading down my back and shoulders felt real—dirty but real. And my companions coming to gather around me with wide eyes seemed real. But... are they really real? Seeing is not always believing. Not anymore.

Gimli held out a hand to pull me up, but instead, I pull him down. As soon as I felt his skin, felt the heat radiating off his skin, I pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Lass—Lass I'm—not hewn from—rock," my beloved dwarf-friend gasped.

I pulled back, wincing. "Sorry, Gim. I just—I just had to make sure you were real."

He looked a bit flustered, messing with his beard and toying with his ax, but he nodded and grumbled something under his breath.

I caught sight of the horizon over the shoulders of my companions—gray started to bleed into deep purple, deep purple mixing with a black void holding bright pinpricks of hope. Dawn is only moments away.

I turned my gaze back over to Aragorn, cringing at the sight of Gandalf. "How long have I been... out?" I struggled not to say 'away.'

But I didn't need him to answer—I already knew.

"Seven days."

I didn't stumble in surprise like I knew they expected me too. No, I just nodded grimly, my lips pressed into a thin line.

I turned my gaze to Legolas, who still sat away from us all. His head wasn't cocked—not like the way Sauron made me remember. No, he just sat with his legs crossed, fists tangled in the grass. The sight of dried tears on his cheek made me step forward. What could make a prince shed tears?

But at my sudden movement, Legolas scrambled to his feet and took up a position opposite of the dying fire.

Fine, if he wanted to ignore me, I'd let him. For now.

"Gimli, put out that fire." Aragorn spun on his heels to meet the dwarf. It was a reprimand enough. The dwarf grumbled about warmth as he stomped on the dying embers.

"Where are we going?" Last I knew, I was being pulled free from Saruman's clutches. Are we heading straight for Mordor or stopping at a town or kingdo—

"Rohan, home of the Horse Lords. We should arrive within a fortnight. Mithrandir fe—" The ranger's voice got drowned out by the wizards.

"Lumornel—" The wizard's voice put me on edge. "Do you know who brought forth such a spell on you?"

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. Is he like his Istari brother? How do we not know he is casting dark spells to influence us? Will he take me back to Saruman?

A soft hand touched my arm, it was not a touch to harm me, not even to get my attention. It was only given to be a comfort.

I turned to see who had given such a gift and gasped.

"Melnare!" I threw my arms around the companion that fought to keep me mentally preserved.

Her hands came up to tentatively pat me on my back, as if she had no idea what a hug was. But soon she gripped onto me and embraced me like a mother seeing her child after they came back from war.

"You might as well go ahead and tell him, child. He'll keep pestering you if you don't." Her words brushed my ear.

I sighed and let go. "It's good to see you out of that cell, mellon."

She smiled. "Likewise."

With a heaving sigh, I turned back to the waiting assortment of species.

I braced myself for their reactions as his foul tasting name came to my lips, "Sauron."

Aragorn sucked in a breath and stumbled while Gimli muttered several colorful curses in dwarvish. Gandalf, on the other hand, didn't look the least bit surprised.

"It is no wonder why the Dark Lord would want to communicate with you... I already suspect he's contacted you in some way." He looked up in confirmation. I nodded. I couldn't stop the flood of memories from that garden. A scrap of claws. The buzzing of bees. Shining orange hair. A thumb on my cheek.

I shuddered.

Gandalf fished out his pipe. Got to work on making a spark. "The question is; why would he want to talk with you for seven days? Why now?"

My back straightened. I won't tell them. I won't.

Okay, maybe just part of it.

"I got him to agree to free Legolas of the Ring."

The wizard's robes swirled in a mirage of gray and brown. "You fool!"

I flinched.

My heart pounded in my chest as my wide eyes carefully watched his staff and hands. Every sharp gust of wind seemed to carry away his tolerance for my company.

Melnare stepped in front of me, nearly taking out my toes. "She was only doing what she thought was right!"

"And now Sauron knows who holds his Ring!"

Oh. Oh.

... oops.

Before I could even get a word out to defend myself, Gandalf came upon me like a pack of wargs. "What did you give him? What did you foolishly bargain?"

I couldn't help my eyes from widening. How did he know?

You foolish girl! He knows how Sauron works, he knows how The Maia thinks.

"What did you bargain?!" I took a step back when he appeared in my face.

I opened my mouth—but quickly closed it.

Didn't I just spend a week with Sauron, talking when he forced me too? And before that, go through nearly the same thing with Saruman?

Why should I answer this maia? He could be the same as the others—evil, cunning, cruel.

Or he could just be the wandering, thoughtful wizard the stories depict him as.

I clenched my jaw. That's just what that young girl reading her books up in the mirkwoodian trees would think. But I'm afraid that old me is gone, killed by those with horrid intentions.

So, I took a step forward and got right into the Wizards' face, almost stepping on his booted toes. "What I did does not concern you. Nor will it ever."

"Lumo—" Aragorn protested my snarl, but warg cries interrupted his words.

Thank Eru!

I groped behind my back for my duel short swords—but there was nothing there!

A strangled noise escaped me. Where did my beloved knives go?!

I swung around as a metal and leather collided with my arm, no doubt leaving a bruise for me to nurse later.

The small dagger that Father—my mirkwoodian father—gave to me lay in the grass.

It was like the world slowed and I was transported back in time. The air stilled and the image of the knife laying in the grass froze. Dark spots of blood freckled the leather sheath, dirt smeared the handle, and stray bits of grass had hitched a ride from who knows where.

"I have no use for it now, it is yours." His deep voice floated back to me on a phantom breeze, as did the brush of his encouraging hands and the sting of his reprimanding yet helpful words.

Oh Father, how I miss you.

And Mother—I miss her soothing words and warm soup. I miss helping her sew clothing for the gentry and debating about what flower goes best with what flower.

I might never see them again.

With that saddening revelation, I reach down and took the long dagger.

Quickly snapping the belt into place around my waist, I scope my surroundings for the person who delivered the little piece of home to me.

My eyes landed on Legolas. But he had a scowl on his face as if he regretted handing me the weapon.

What has the Ring done to him? What has the evil of Sauron done to everyone else?

Has evil corrupted all the world? Is there a Saruman in every corner of Arda, waiting for some helpless victim to stumble in their way?

Again, my ever wandering mind strayed back to the prophecy. But in times she will be greatly needed, no need will she be.

Well, I can be of 'need' now.

I wielded my heirloom weapon in a vice grip, determined to take some orcs down with it.

*********

"A king is he that can hold his own or else his title is vain"

                                --Maedhros

Thoughts?

... So I saw the newest Pirates of the Caribbean movie... the one with Will's son... (I liked it perhaps more than I should've) ((more specifically Henri))

Let's rant for a moment about Wattpad Premium thang. SOO I have not clicked on the darn button because I'm so darn angry at it. Wattpad?! Yeah, you, app in the corner. I like you because you were free and EVERY thing on here was free. Now since I have not clicked on said button I have not had actual proof that the premium thing costs money. But guess what? I don't have money to be spent. Soooo... I'm just going to angrily ignore said button and hope wattpad gets rid of it. Yeah, I know the people behind wattpad need money, but can't they keep making money the way they were before??? Just please don't make me have to pay money to publish a story. Otherwise, I'm quitting Wattpad. *rages silently*

I have a really great(ish) story idea floating around in my head. I just need to figure out how to tie it all together

Got a question: how can normal humans be better than other humanoid species? (such as shape shifters and people with wings and elves)

I really need to go to sleep but I can't.

Novaer mellonamin!

~Awatin~