The sun stood proudly in the sky. It shone down on the fields and rolling hills of Middle Earth. The Fellowship traveled swiftly under this loving daylight. The previous night had passed without any significant events. This is if you forget Sam’s fear that a squirrel, which was jumping from tree to tree was a evil demon sent to destroy him.
Being out in the open was disturbing to many members of the Fellowship. Gimli didn’t like it at all. Being a dwarf, he was happiest in enclosed places where beings could not so easily sneak up behind one. Gandalf didn’t like it either mainly because of the warning in his mind. He has sensed the seeing stone’s gaze last night, remaining as a shadow in his thoughts. It was a menace, which was threatening their journey. He couldn’t quite make out the words that hung thickly in the wind last night, but he knew his old friend’s voice well enough to hear that the evil wizard was plotting something. To what end, he couldn’t quite see yet. Fear struck him that he wouldn’t be sure of the evil brewing until it was too late.
Gandalf felt no reason to alarm the group until he had something definite to tell them. They had enough to worry about, even though he knew Legolas could sense the danger as well. The elf walked as though he was walking on glass, ever watchful and listening.
Aragorn decided that this persistent sun was starting to take its toll on the company. Some woods nearby had shade which looked very inviting.
“Let us seek shelter within those trees.”
Boromir looked up to the sky, beads of sweat had formed on his brow and he could already feel the pain of a sunburn forming on his nose and forehead. “Agreed, Aragorn. The trail is long and this heat is draining the energy from us.”
Even Gimli gave no protest to taking shelter within more “stupid trees”. The hobbits decided that getting out of the open fields warranted some lunch and they quickly broke out the rations. They all sat like bumps on a log with an assortment of bread, meats and cheeses.
Gandolf sat his staff down and found this place to be quite peaceful. These woods seemed to be more welcoming than the woods they remained in last night.
Legolas also found them to be very nice and tranquil, perching himself in a low, sturdy branch. He leaned back with a long sigh, feeling the constant stress start to catch up with him a little. He closed his green eyes in order to absorb the feel of the tree which held him. His sharp elven ears picked up with conversation on the other side of the clearing.
“One must select a cheese with great care, master dwarf.” Merry decided this calm moment perfect to lecture the others of the fine art of cheese. After a very involved speech, the group packed up their belongs and continued on their way. Legolas was feeling so happy to be around the nature he was one with and began to sing. He sang to the trees, the streams and anything else which struck him as beautiful and worthy of a melody.
“Perhaps the elf would serve us better as the group’s minstrel.” Gimli joked.
“Do not overlook beauty, Gimli. One speak of beauty may save one when all else seems lost.” Legolas gave a small smile and continued ahead, leaping with the beauty, grace and absolute silence of a cat.
Aragorn laughed. ‘Tracking that elf would prove almost impossible.’ He thought to himself.
The white sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating and warming the flowering bushes which were all over the forest floor. This forest’s beauty was exceptional and nothing interrupted their journey except for the occasional small fresh stream.
Night crept down upon the company. When the beautiful light of day retreated this forest which had proved so lovely took on a different mood. A menacing tone overwhelmed them and if they had not journeyed so far into this wood, they would have retreated back onto the plains. Creatures of the night began to stir and the trees warned of an evil rising from the south.
“The trees speak of something ill. I can feel it through me to my soul.” Legolas tried to hear exactly what the trees were trying to tell him, but every wood speaks a slightly different language. Had this been his home, his beloved Mirkwood, he would have known what the danger was right away.
The trees sensed Saruman as he climbed up his great tower. They sensed the danger in the ancient parchment he carried.
Saruman stood atop his dark fortress of power. The words on the parchment he carried were faded, but he knew they had lost none of their potency.
Long ago, when wizards were first acquiring a sense of what their power was capable of, they devised spells of terrible power. Spells which were to be used against all the different creatures of Middle Earth individually. There were spells against dragon, dwarf, half-ling, man and elf. It took quite a bit of time to develop something to be used against elven folk. Their inherit magic defended them from being completely conquered. They always proved a resistant race. They resisted disease, the ages and power which would seek to capture them. It was always written that nothing could capture and hold a healthy adult elf.
After many attempts one wizard finally devised a spell. A spell which had to be so dark that the light of the firstborn would not be able to shine through it. Its words had not been uttered in recent memory because even the wizards grew afraid of the evil of this ancient script. Now, here Saruman stood about to unleash this ultimate evil against this fair child of Mirkwood.
The words of power flowed from his twisted mouth. The wizard held up his free hand to better focus his energy in order to send it out. It sped towards the elf with unnatural speed.
Something occurred within the Fellowship that they never thought they would ever see except in some vivid imagination. An elf fell out of a tree. Legolas had been sitting on a branch taking in the sounds and smells of the night when he cured up and fell right out onto the forest floor.
“A clumsy elf?” Sam questioned. He had never seen an elf do anything ungraceful, and this was unheard of. Sam worshipped elves for all their power and his fascination with them grew as he learned more from Legolas, asking him questions about elves every other mile along their trek.
The wind grew and Gandalf rose quickly for there was that voice again except this time the words were much more clear. Had he not knew of Saruman’s madness from his earlier encounter he would have thought himself mad for even thinking that wizard would do anything like this.
“It can’t be.” Gandalf stood in shock, something he had not done in over a hundred years.
“What is wrong?” Aragorn screamed to Gandalf as he ran to help Legolas. The elf felt very cold to the man’s tough. Altogether this was not uncommon since the skin of elves now and then can feel cold to a mortal, but this was a chill that went deeper into his companion. The elf’s breathing came in short gasps and he was awakening from his fall from the tree above.
“What is it, Legolas?” Legolas was relived to see the face of Aragorn looking at him with great concern.
“I’m not sure, Aragorn. Something is very wrong with me.” He shook and felt weak.
Then Gandalf knew exactly what was going on. The evil of old was being released to ensnare this gentle being’s light. When realization of the power being used hit the wizard, his eyes went wide and everything seemed to stop to him, the concerns of his companions going unheard.
Then the full might of the spell descended upon Legolas. The group stared upwards at clouds of smoke and fire forming above their heads, however only Gandalf saw the dark hand came down from the fiery clouds and reach into the elf’s chest, grabbing the point of great light contained within. This cold hand of pure evil ripped this light from the elf causing him to contract into a ball, screaming in agony as it pulled it out of his being and up into the menacing clouds of flame above them. Only when the spell was completed and the clouds dissipated did Aragorn notice that Legolas had passed out.