I fell tumbling and screaming into the mob of monsters, landing hard and rolling onto my hands and knees. It was hotter down here than my armpits during my trek across Middle-Earth—which is saying something. And all that heat was coming from these third-dragon, third-man/elf/orc, third-demon things. Or maybe they were a combination of some of the creations from Morgoth's days, maybe even part balrog. Whatever they were, they were humanoid, crawling on legs with a tail balancing them from behind, a tongue that glowed like molten rock—with the heat of it too—and an oval head like that of the race of man. But no eyes that I could see, only the smooth, seamless black scales that wasn't quite scales, but not skin either, that covered their entire bodies.

These demons that had haunted my fitful hours during the nights not-so-long-ago were right in front of me. This close, I could smell the burnt odor coming off them in waves, yet through the heat, it was almost hard to tell there was a smell.

I froze while the uur rauko did as well, staring at me with eyeless faces like a piece of trash fell in their midst. Then, growling and dripping molten fire, they pounced.

I shrieked, instinctively curling into a ball. Yet, of course, that did nothing against their talon-sharp claws and burning tongues. Unimaginable pain had me retreating into myself, pulling free that starlight and letting it loose in a burst.

Immediately, the demons yelped, jumping away. But it wasn't long before they were back. Not long at all. This time, as I flung out star-light, I jumped to my feet. When the uur rauko came bounding back after shying away, they were jumping over a few of their kinds' corpses.

But it didn't matter if I had killed a handful. There were hundreds still living, still hungering for my flesh. And I didn't come here to kill them, my bargain didn't claim that either.

I was here to command them. Using that piece of Sauron inside me.

No, I'm not going to use that thing. Not again. Not after learning it's the cause of my mortality.

I backed myself up against the incline of the pit walls, hoping that none would get behind me. As I did so, I caught sight of something that could save me, just over the uur rauko heads: a ladder. But it was on the opposite side of the pit and to get there I'd have to pass through hundreds of the fire demons.

Energy rushed through my veins like a stampede of running horses, I was alight with it. The light escaped through the air around me, radiating out towards those black beasts. I had that ladder in my sights.

They roared back, fleeing, scrambling over each other to get away from the searing star-light. Some fell, never to rise again, but the rest returned after the light receded.

Their hot breaths brushed my face as they pounced, me heaving for breath as I desperately tried spooling out my light. Why did it always feel like this? Like the light is always being restrained, never reaching its full potential—?

Oh yeah, because of the darkness Sauron placed within me. For something to be ultimately powerful, it must be pure. Not tainted.

Just as I felt their claws break through my skin, my star-light was flung out again, casting them away. I repeated the process several times, each time getting more exhausted, more injured. I fell to my knees as the uur rauko were blasted back once again, struggling to draw in breath, struggling to keep my eyes open, all the while feeling blood drip down me, burns on my shoulders and arms.

How long have I been doing this? A half hour? A full hour?

I couldn't keep going, already I felt like the world was tipping. Any longer—and I'll drop unconscious, then the fire demons will, well, eat me. Then I'll be of no use to anyone.

Tempted though I was to just give up and let them eat me—just so Sauron couldn't turn me into a terror—the small part of me that screamed I could still save people, still revive Middle-Earth to a place without evil threatening to ruin it made me want to live. So people can live happily in peace.

So, begrudgingly, I called out for that darkness. It was like an eager dog, rushing forward with its tail wagging at the word 'treat.' That silky darkness burst from me as if finally set loose from a cage, in a flurry of blooming black. Like with the lamb, it was an entity of its own, shooting for the uur rauko and spanning out like a sheet—

Then it settled, wisps appearing to evaporate off the surface, and smothered the uur rauko. But unlike with the lamb, the darkness appeared to be absorbed into them.

And slowly, then abruptly, their movements stopped—they went from their leg prepared to launch themselves at me, to sitting back on their haunches.

I straightened, hands out in defense as I felt my eyes go wide. That was... easy.

But then they started to shake their sleek heads, throwing off whatever hold I had over them. Little wisps flew from them—making the tiny snakes of living shadows slither back to me and up my legs. And they went right back to pouncing, toothless jaws open to melt my skin with their tongues.

Taking a step back, I grunted as I forced my hands out, physically pushing that dark power from me. Once again, it shot out like a spear, whorls coming off it, then spreading out over top the masses and coming down to suffocate.

It lasted longer this time, that darkness. The uur rauko managed to sit for a minute before escaping the control I had placed over them.

Each time I cast my influence on them, they were subdued longer and longer. It was like stretching, the longer you stretched the further you could go.

Until finally, I could walk and weave in between them. I didn't dare touch their hard scales... skin... whatever it was. I breathed heavily as I made my way in between the monsters, having to actually give in and touch them so I could crawl over them in areas. But eventually, sweaty and exhausted and bloody, I made my way over to the opposite side of the pit. To where that glorious ladder was.

Placing my hands on the wooden rungs, I bowed my head. Finally—

Claws raked through my back.

Screaming, I fell back from the ladder. Growls rang in my ears as they climbed over each other, all to get a taste of me.

"STOP!!" I yelled, voice cracking, as I whipped out darkness around me in a giant flurry of action. Furious, and oh so very tired and just wanting to sleep, I forced that darkness out with as much force and domination as I could. I put every ounce of my emotions into it. All noise went silent. Everything.

Struggling to breathe through the sheer agony, I slowly turned around—the uur rauko were still. In the back, I could see waves of them stilling in their hurry to get to me. Then they were all like statues, staring at me with eyeless heads and glowing tongues.

"Just... go away," I whispered, their claw marks on my body screaming.

And then... the uur rauko started moving away, milling about each other like I wasn't even there.

Barely breathing, I whispered, "lay down."

They all settled themselves on the ashy ground.

Breathing trembling, I turned back towards the ladder, hands barely able to hold onto the rungs as I climbed up and out of that terrible pit.

*********

Eight sunsets later, Sauron stood before a giant pit, the setting sun glowing upon his armor. Alagosson stood at his left, standing proudly tall in that quiet way of his while he held his hands behind his back. The Mouth of Sauron stood on Sauron's right, closely watching the bright figure down below. Alagosson often wondered if it was the slits in the helmet the Mouth wore that enabled him to see.

But it wasn't just the Mouth watching the figure down below, it was all three. Some orcs would stop their work to have a look-see, right before their orderlies whipped at them to get back to work.

Below, in the glow of demon tongues, the Tree-Shade harnessed the darkness like a hurricane. Black swirled around her, feeding off to the uur rauko whenever the demons needed more discipline. More often than not, Sauron thought she was showing off that darkness. He was almost sure she didn't need it visible anymore to have it working amongst the demons. He also began to notice little changes in his new slave. Her shoulders drooped more, yet a spark that undeniably came from the piece of his malevolent soul in her glittered in her eyes. With every passing day of her calling forth the black shadows, she grew more tainted.

"They are bending to her will as stalks of grain bend to the wind," the Mouth observed as the figure below made the uur rauko move as one—as they would do in battle. "She is ready. Give what you made to her—"

"Not yet." The words were so loud, yet not loud in the way that made people cover their ears. It was loud in the way it screamed for attention. Filling the surroundings so much it felt as if his words were filling the minds of those around him.

"My lord—"

"She will receive it when I hear the reports of an army marching our way."

Alagosson raised his chin, no longer looking at the woman but out towards the desolate landscape of Mordor. "An elven army arrived in Gondor less than a fortnight ago—it will not be long before they are at our gates."

"Not long at all," Sauron mused, picking up his heavy boot to smash a scurrying mouse. He twisted his heel into the dirt, a scrunch reverberating through his foot, through the air. "Let them come. Our armies are more than ready. The moment their army marches, I will be informed."

Alagosson nodded, his hard eyes passing over Sauron before he stalked towards the fortress of Barad-dûr.

The Mouth let his gaze follow the elf. "I don't trust him. He stinks of something vile."

"Yet he performs his orders more quickly and efficiently than you."

*********

Noon's sun set the white city shining like a diamond on display, nestled into the side of a lofty mountain. Legolas barely had to squint to see the kingdom, not that they were now close enough to make out faces moving along the seven layers of the realm. Outside the city, giant stacks of... something emitted enormous plumes of black smoke. Upon closer inspection of the city, Legolas could see ruin. Gates and walls had fallen to rubble. Buildings had been decimated. No doubt the black, smoking piles were orc bodies burning.

Horns were blown as the patrols finally saw them, no doubt soldiers were being called into action, even though Thranduil had sent a scout—doubling as a representative—ahead to warn of their coming and that the elves meant no harm.

And soon enough, Legolas was gazing up at flags flapping in the wind, an overcast sky framing the emblems vibrantly. Through the rippling of the fabric, he saw the crest of Gondor. A white tree against a black night.

Minas Tirith. Here at last.

Before the ruined gate, just outside of the city, Thranduil, Legolas, and a handful of warriors left the rest of their regiment. There wouldn't be room for an entire regiment of elves within the city. At least no room for the people's sense of comfort. With an army of elves dwelling too close to the people, no doubt the citizens of Minas Tirith would raise their concerns high, building tension among the ranks. Which is not what they wanted.

They passed through the rubble of the cities lowest gate, the stone gray and white. Soldiers stood straighter as the foreign army marched on their soil, their metal helmets gleaming in the soft light. As a mass of rock rubble passed behind them, a massive of rock greeted them. It was like the prow of a ship, extending hundreds of feet into the air.

As Legolas and his small company entered, citizens stopped what they were doing. Many were dressed in clothing almost resembling rags, but there were some who dressed in fine clothes. All bore signs of weariness and sorrow.
The elves could still see blood in between the cobbles of the roadway. As their horses' hooves hit on the stone paths, they drew more of a crowd. Children weaved in between the adults, popping out at the front to watch with wide eyes as the elves passed before them.

Legolas kept his gaze ahead, letting his eyes rove upon the massive city. Aragorn would be somewhere in there, Gimli and Gandalf too—he hoped. Every battle held the chance of someone he knew dying, he just prayed he'd be lucky enough this time to have no one die. He had been told what Aragorn and the others had planned, knowing how important it was Lumornel did not know.

Lumornel.

Legolas closed his eyes, only opening them when he was composed. Yet he still gripped the reins tight enough his fingernails bit into his skin.

I'll get you back, Lum. With every breath of me, I promise.

The group passed through another armed gate—this one actually intact, all except for the giant wooden doors—that led to the second level. Legolas let himself take in his surroundings, cataloging everything, all the destruction. Up and up they went, passing through many levels, and finally—the seventh level. The Citadel of Minas Tirith.

A white tree stood with spindly, white, naked arms reaching high—it hadn't been touched by battle; a good sign. Only a few flowers bloomed on its branches. Just behind the tree and its guards, the tower of Echthelion soared sky high. The King's House was just beyond—

A group of people were striding across the courtyard.

Aragorn smiled widely, bowing his head in acknowledgment towards Thranduil high upon his elk. Gimli eyed the elf king warily but gave Legolas a greeting. Of course, Mithrandir strode straight for Thranduil, saying a quick greeting before getting down to business. Legolas eyed the last person—a tall blonde male that looked eerily familiar—

"Greetings, Prince Legolas. I am Faramir, brother of Boromir."

Legolas quickly dismounted, trusting his horse to stay put, and greeted him. "Your brother was a great man. May Mandos care for him well."

Faramir nodded, a sad tinge in his eyes. "He dwells in the halls of the afterlife now, living  far happier than us."

Before Legolas could respond, Gimli swooped in like a falling leaf. "Elf-friend! Your pretty face has been sorely missed! We could've used that bow arm of yours once or twice, particularly to get Lord Denethor to loosen his hold on his obstinate ideas."

Legolas laughed, walking to his short friend under the watchful eyes of his father. "No doubt your ax would've worked better! Maybe even threaten that you've got something deadly under that beard of yours."

"I could offer him crumbs that have been saturated in dwarven sweat! That'll sure make him stay away!"

"That's enough to make anyone stay away, my friend." Legolas grinned ear-to-ear.

Gimli leaned on one foot, peaking around Legolas. His eyes surveyed Legolas' company, brows raising towards Thranduil.

"Where's the lass? Has she..." He trailed off, noticing Legolas' face harden.

Aragorn stepped in, adopting a grim expression. "Sauron's called in his bargain."

The elf nodded. "Two fortnights ago. Our bivouac was ambushed and, in the confusion, she was taken."

He set his jaw. He had pleaded with his father to let him take a contingent and hunt down Lumornel's captor and bring her back. Thranduil had stated otherwise; that Lumornel would be out of his reach. Along with other reasonable points that Legolas didn't hear.

"Lumornel?" Mithrandir questioned as he joined. "Ah, yes. I expected as much would happen."

Legolas couldn't control the flare of anger that rose in him, however, he managed to push it down.

"It seems we just missed a battle," Legolas stated, his hard gaze going over the tiered city below.

"Aye," Gimli stated. "We were besieged by Mordor's forces. But they were no match for my ax! Ha!"

"Once the tides turned in our favor," Aragorn began, "and it became evident that the orcs could not win, they retreated. If Eomer hadn't agreed to bring the cavalry of Rohan, or what's left of it, we'd all be dead. As it was, we barely made it out with our lives."

"Where is Rohan's new king?" Thranduil asked from his elk, having not dismounted. "Has he perished?"

"No, your majesty, Eomer King is overlooking his sister after she was gravely injured on Pelennor fields." Faramir lowered his eyes in respect, bowing slightly.

King Thranduil's eyes narrowed in thought. "A battle has taken place on Pelennor fields?"

"Yes," Mithrandir answered. "I'll debrief you on the matter in a more undisclosed setting if you wish."

Thranduil inclined his head.

Legolas eyed his two friends, silently telling them to do the same. They both gave nearly imperceptible nods.

Almost as if they all shared the same thought, the three hunters turned and faced the gloomy horizon. Towards Mordor. Where shadow and ash hung in the sky like a canopy of leaves, only the glowing red of a volcano penetrating through. Somewhere, in all that desolate ruin of evil, was Lumornel. Being tortured or worse, Legolas didn't know.

Legolas opened his mouth and softly spoke the question he had been wondering long before ever arriving in Minas Tirith.

"When do we march?"

"The day after the 'morrow, with every soldier three kingdoms can muster."

*********

"He stands not alone"

           —Legolas, the Two Towers

Tell me what you're thinking....
•what's gonna happen next?
•what about Lumornel falling more into the darkness?
•Alagosson?

Next week, maybe, probably, very possibly, I'll start updating twice a week. Monday and Thursday? Or Monday and Friday?

Anyways, gotta blast. *cartoon thing where I run away really fast and all that's left of me is a cloud of smoke*

Novaer, mellyn
~awatin~

^^i should probably start changing that to '~phoenix~'^^