I paced on the dirt floor, my shadow—cast from the flickering candle—followed my every move on the wooden wall.

My nerves were alive with anxiety, triggering my sweat glands on my hands and neck. Every noise—the wind howling outside the small home, Gimli's snoring, the scuttering of a squirrel on the roof set me looking over my shoulder. Although, there weren't many other noises, since every living thing—spare the wild animals who weren't in the way, was dead.

That thought wasn't encouraging.

How am I going to go about this?

I threw my hands in the air and muttered a curse.

Running on the courage that would no doubt leave me soon, I stalked into the main room where Aragorn slept. Him, Gimli, and Mithrandir shared the front room while Melnare and I shared a spare one. The hobbits decided to sleep with the men. Legolas had the only room with an exterior lock.

Gently nudging his shoulder, the ranger awoke with a jerk. His eyes searched for danger and his hand strayed to the knife I knew he kept under his makeshift pillow.

"Is everything all right?" His voice was still hoarse with sleep.

I nodded, shifting foot to foot. "I'm going to do it now. Confront Legolas, I mean."

He sat up on the dingy couch and ran a hand over his unshaven face. His brown eyes found mine. "You don't have to do this. I can be the one to talk to him."

"No," I shook my head. "I'm the only one that can possibly get through to him."

But could I?

No, stop. Just try.

He assessed me for a moment, as if making sure I wouldn't change my mind. Hurry up before I do.

"I'm going to do this whether or not you want me to," I blurted.

He saw the truth in my eyes and nodded. "Go, do so with caution. He can still hurt you." His hand traveled to his injured arm. My brows furrowed.

Aragorn stood and retrieved the key for not-Legolas's door.

"Be careful," he set his hand on my shoulder. "Middle-Earth needs you."

I smiled and place my own hand on his shoulder. "Middle-Earth needs you too."

Then I shook off his hand and began my dooming walk to Legolas's room.
**
The bronze key slid easily into the lock. The sound of the lock clicking into place seemed almost deafening.

With a final breath, I turned the knob.

I can do this. I can do this.

No, I will do this.

The door pushed open with barely a squeak. Cool air puffed at my skin and bright candle light greeted me eyes.

We had laid his prone body on the bed—so my eyes went there.

But the blankets were rumpled and the bed empty—

Legolas appeared in front of me as he pushed the door shut. His arm pinned me to it.

"Legolas—"

"My name is Morgalen," he snarled. The harsh elven words bounced off my face. I flinched.

Deciding to use our native language, I said, "no. Legolas is in there." Gathering my courage, I put my hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. "Let me talk to him."

He recoiled at my touch.

"He's gone," he growled. But there was a twinkling light in his eyes that wasn't there before. And I couldn't—wouldn't believe him to be lost forever.

"Lego—Morgalen, let me talk to him," I pleaded.

But not-Legolas—Morgalen shifted his feet into a fighting stance. His hand went to his belt—to where a knife normally hangs. But the orc knife wasn't on him, it was on the dresser.

He realized it at the same time I did.

"No—" Both him and I lunged for it at the same time. My fingers grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and belt. I pulled him back away from the weapon and leapt in front of it.

My fingers grazed the hilt and—

With a snarl, my feet were kicked out from under me.

And then Morgalen had the knife.

He didn't give me time to stand or scramble away. No, he stood over me and angled the knife towards my soft belly. The candle light made him almost a silhouette, only the faintest of yellow illumination kissed his face.

"Come with me." The words were not a question.

I made to move, but his foot pressed on my knee. "W-where?"

He pressed the tip of the blade to my stomach.

"Mordor. Just you and me. If you do this, I won't kill your friends." 

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my skin. "No."

Blood welled up from where he pressed the knife in. "What?"

"You heard me." If I wasn't so afraid he'd gut me, I would've pointed my finger in his face.

For a moment I really did think he'd kill me—his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched dangerously. I braced myself for the plunge of the knife.

But none came.

I opened my eyes to find the light shifting in Morgalen's eyes. The glinting anger left and the twinkle of something pure came out of hiding. His jaw unclenched and his muscles relaxed—

But it was gone when Morgalen shook his head, as if clearing it.

"Legolas!" I yelled. "It's me! Lumornel! Fight him!" 

"I told you," he left me and went to the far wall—the farthest he could get away from me, "he's not here!"

I stood and took a step. Shaking my head, I said, "Legolas, I know you can hear me. So, fight him. Break free."

Morgalen tried taking a step back, but the wall stopped him. The golden Ring peaked out from his tunic, whispering lies of darkness in his ear.

"You need to hand the Ring over to Sam."

"NO!"

I clenched my hands to keep them from trembling.

"Listen to my voice, Legolas. Whatever this demon is telling you, don't listen. It's all lies." My voice steadily grew stronger.

I dared another step.

"You know as well as I do, friend, that nothing good comes out of the Ring. It well tell you one thing and do the opposite."

Another step closer.

"If you continue to hold the Ring, it will kill your friends."

One foot forward. A fist clenched

"Aragorn."

Another foot. His eyes shifted away

"Gimli."

I gained another inch.

"The innocent hobbits."

And another. He scooted up closer to the wall.

"Your Father."

Morgalen—Legolas flinched.

"Me."

I could almost reach him now, I could see it in his eyes. Morgalen's anger and desperation was clear.

"It'll kill me, Legolas."

"I'll slice your throat, mortal, if you don't shut your mouth." The words seemed dangerous, but his voice almost shook.

"It will lie to you and kill everyone you care about."

I stepped closer—our toes almost touched.

"You may as well blame Sauron for your Mother's death." He stiffened, like a deer caught with an arrow.

And then I dashed my hand out and fished out the chain that hung damningly around his neck.

Yes!

But his hand grabbed my wrist. My skin went cold.

My heart stopped in my chest as I beheld his glaring eyes—

A pulsed emanated out of him and into me—

Dark whispers filled my fear clouded mind and then hurredily left—

Milky white filled my vision and my senses left in rush and then—

I wasn't in my own head, but in Legolas's. And I appeared to have been dunked into an ancient memory.

The memory was thick and muted. As if it had since been clouded over with fear.

One thing was sure—Legolas did not want me, or anyone else, to know about this. This was his secret, for his mind only. And now I see it.

********
"Memory is not what the heart desires"
                 —Gimli, Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

Thoughts?!

So next week you'll finally find out that secret Legolas was hiding... And that 'nightmare' that effects him so much...

Why are emotions a thing?

Novaer, mellyn!

~Awatin~