The Dying of the Light: Part VIII
Author: Elvensong

Chapter 8: Calling From the Dark

            The light of the moon competed with the darkness of the night. Creatures were stirring, calling to each other from across the lands.  Among all the activity of the night traveled one Elf.  Many of the beasts took notice of this mythical creature for many of them had never seen an Elf.  In some areas of the three lands, Elves are legend with no one sure of whether they truly exist or are fictional, belonging to the bedtime stories of children. 

            In the moonlight, its fair hair appeared like strands of silver flowing behind it as it moved gracefully in the night air.

            Legolas emerged onto an open plain from the fields, which he had traveled through for quite some time.  Unfortunately, he had a bad feeling about walking through this wide, open area in the dark of night.  He decided to take a rest for the next couple hours before the sunrise.  The strength would do him well on his journey.

            He sat down quietly and blended himself in with the grass. The Elf gazed at the scene around him and discovered nothing of real interest.  He knew the road ahead would prove more challenging and he appreciated the moment of silence and solitude to use to gather his thoughts. 

            The call from whatever force was reaching out to him was gaining strength.  Its call would not silence for a moment and was something that could not be ignored.  It acted on Legolas like an instinct, something raw and primal.  He had no power to resist it and felt he would be incomplete as long as it was out there beckoning him on.

            After resting for a while he decided to keep going under the faint light of the rising sun.  The creatures of the light slowly retreated into the shadows to hide from the new day. 

            As the day grew hotter the open dry plain scorched in the sun and Legolas’ fair skin was beginning to feel affected by its rays.  The air smelled dusty and dry, almost chocking off his air, as the sun grew ever higher.

            Ahead stood the tower of Saruman.  Just ahead his foe stood high and he will go to face him and solve his plight, for he could not live trapped and suffocating in the spell’s evil grasp. 



            “That stupid Elf! That damn stupid, stupid Elf! Curses to him and all his blasted kind!” Gimli took Legolas’ disappearance in the night well. Much better than everyone thought he would.

            “Are you surprised he did not stay, Gimli?” Gandalf gave the Dwarf a stern look.

            “No. I knew this would not leave him alone, but he could have, I don’t know. Written a note or something.”

            “I don’t think he gave his leaving much thought. It probably just pushed him to leave suddenly.” Aragorn packed up his stuff and began to head towards Mordor.

            “You’re just continuing the quest?” Gimli stood firm. The Hobbits watched the scene while eating their first breakfast.

            “We must. It is our first duty.” The ranger knew the Elf could take care of himself. There was no reason to halt their efforts.  Legolas would catch up to them when his personal battle was ended.

            “The Fellowship cannot break apart already.  We must stick together or else who knows what will come to tear the rest of us apart.” Boromir also made no move to pack up and head towards Mount Doom. The Hobbits began to feel that popcorn would be in order for watching this drama.

            “It is foretold that the Fellowship will come apart before all is finished.  We must fight through all hardships, including the loss of one of our numbers.” Gandalf stood firm on his believes, but he knew this was a matter not to be solved in an instant, and not to be solved by the fighters for the ring, but the bearer thereof.

            “What say you, Frodo?” Galdalf turned wholly to the Hobbit.  Frodo quickly looked up, his mouth full.

            “What shall we do?” Everyone hushed, waiting for his decision.



            After the days journey, Legolas felt as if the sun had drained every ounce of strength from him and he was very relieved to see it depart over the distant horizon.  However, he had to keep going, he could see the very tip of the black tower in the distance, reaching for the stars.  As he traveled, he noticed something quite odd in the sky nearby. A flickering of light, which looked almost like a distant star.  Something was odd about this piece of the heavens.  It would shine brighter than all the others start and seem as close as can be, then would go completely black and disappear from the sky altogether. It kept drawing the Elf’s eyes to it and it came and went in the darkness.




            Saruman sat in his chambers drinking some sweet wine.  He had done well with his new army today, training them and working on blending out the kinks in their structure.  Soon he would have an army greater than any which had ever walked on the lands of Middle Earth.

            He was suddenly distracted from the brooding by a calling from the other room.  A call from the oracle of power sitting in that room underneath a fine silk cloth.   The seeing stone was awake and summoning its master to it, to warn of evil approaching.  Saruman quickly rushed and began to open the power of the stone, to see what it was telling of. 

            Then Saruman saw it.  The evil, disgusting creature that he had thought destroyed.  The Elf against whom he had cast everything, both with magic and with army.  It was near and journeying ever closer, bent of retaliation.

            Saruman opened his eyes and called to him the two Orks who had returned from the battle with that, very alive, Elf. 

He knew what he had to do.  No more sending of Orks and creatures to do what he alone could go.



            Legolas was now coming ever closer to the tower. The smell of the army breeding there was growing stronger in his lungs by the moment.  He would face them all just to find out what had happened to him.  The Elf’s need to know was consuming him. 

            Suddenly there was a flash of light in front of him and for a moment he was blinded.  When his eyes slowly returned to normal there stood the dark Wizard dressed in white.  Legolas knew who he was, and knew that he alone could give him the answers his soul cried for. 

            “Saruman.” The Wizard smiled.

            “Legolas.  You are quite bold to venture here, alone and weakened.  For you have lost something, something quite dear to your heart.”

            Legolas’ eyes widened.  He could not bear this torture, this Wizard commenting so calmly on something so horrific. 

            “You stole my light, my soul! I have come to reclaim what is mine!” Legolas stood firm.  Under normal circumstances he would have drawn his bow, but he knew no weapons would be able to combat this enemy.

            Saruman laughed.

            It was a dark sinister laugh which would shake any creature to its foundation. 

            “You are nothing, Elf.  Even if you did have any power, you still would be no challenge to me. Don’t you realize why I came here myself. It was for sport, Elf.  Because I knew the seeing stone’s prophecy about you could not be accomplished with you in such a weakened condition.”


            “You have” the wizard smiled slightly, “had, an unusual power within you. Since it was not normal it might have had some element with in the seeing stone did not find comforting. So, I thought the easiest way was to evoke the power of the Kassno, the most ancient of all Elvish curses.  One only reserved for the worst of Elvish punishments.  It was so feared, there was never any real documentation of it being carried out, except for small rumors that every Elf that endured it died in the process.”

            Legolas felt his soul shake and his heart descent into the deepest pit of misery.  There was nothing he could do, he was powerless.  Suddenly, he felt very mortal. 

            “I don’t know how you survived my attack with the Ork army, but you will not survive me, Elf. Prepare for the end and the death of an immortal.”


Saruman then began to cast a spell. A great and terrible spell which consumed all around it.  Its powers were borderless and knew no limits.  The hair on Legolas’ neck began to feel charged and stood up.  This may be the end, but he would not go down without a fight.  In desperation, he quickly pulled out an arrow and fired at Saruman’s chest.  It dissolved into thin air before it had even completely left his bow.  His weapons were silently gone and pain began to form in his chest.  A blinding pain which spread into every section of his body.  Every muscle began to tense and he legs gave out from under him and a darkness began to consume him, eating away at his soul.


The Wizard smiled, seeing the Elf fall to the ground.  He did not need to finish watching the power consume him.  He had seen it done over thousands of years to thousands of creatures from every corner of the lands.  He disappeared and returned to his tower.  He looked at the parchment that still sat on his desk and picked it up.  He took it into another room and began to conjure up a way to use it against the entire race of the Elves.


Cold and darkness were all he could feel and see.  It was consuming him and he felt himself dying.  The cold grasp of death was working its way through his body until it would have him completely.  He would still not give up.  He was the Prince of Mirkwood and he would not give up as long as there was breath in his lungs.  He used this last energy and screamed from the edge of the abyss.


“You” he felt himself falling towards the depths below “shall” he thought of his family and hoped they would know only peaceful days “not” images of the Fellowship come into his mind, he knew if any could vanquish evil, they could, even without him “conquer” the last spark of energy went out, his body was falling, already lifeless, but somehow he managed to control this last moment of consciousness “all!”

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