Because of a slight misunderstanding and some quote unquote "snarky" words exhanged between myself and the host of this site, the last chapter was somewhat delayed in posting.  Though I hope you will be able to find it in your hearts to forgive me for the delay by my double update.  Two chapters for the price of one!  How can you go wrong with that?  Hope you like.  Enjoy!

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It was over two days before Legolas was well enough to leave his room in the Hall of Kings again. For two days he drifted along the edge of elven fading, lost in an almost catatonic state of shock from his disturbing vision of the dead girl’s violent rape and murder. Though he had only seen the girl’s death through the powerful gift of second-sight and not actually experienced anything in the true physical sense, he still suffered the effects of her rape as if her violation had been acted out on his own body, so real and vivid his vision had been.

For two days he drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to escape the seemingly unending string of nightmares and fits of tremors that assailed his weakened body as memories of the dead girl’s rape continually resurfaced to haunt him in his sleep and even in his brief waking moments. The only thing that helped keep the elven prince from succumbing to the powerful grip of elven fading that seemed to reach out and tug at his traumatized spirit was the constant presence of his friends and father by his side.

During that entire time Legolas tinkered on the edge of death, Thranduil was unmoved from his son’s bedside. For two days he sat there by Legolas’ side, holding him and gently rocking him back and forth in his arms whenever another nightmare resurfaced to pull and tear at his youngest child’s grieving soul, all the while constantly whispering soft words of reassurance and comfort into his son’s ear.

It was almost considered lucky by the others that dared stay and hold vigil at Legolas’ beside with the elven king that Thranduil was so preoccupied with caring for his son during that time to take much notice of anyone else. For if he hadn’t, it was almost certain several of them wouldn’t have made it out of that room with all the limbs they had originally walked in there with.

When Aragorn and the others had first returned to the Hall of Kings with their traumatized friend held in his arms like some kind of limp and shaking rag doll still sobbing in shock from his horrific psychic vision, Thranduil had all but lashed out and parted Gondor from her only recently regained king. The elven lord had been furious, vehemently blaming Aragorn, his Steward, and the twin sons of Elrond in his rage for their stupidity in putting his son in his current state.

It was a landmark occasion, for it was probably the only known time in all of Arda that both Thranduil and Gimli son of Gloin actually agreed on something.

Finally though, on the third day, as if finally regaining enough strength to overcome the intense waves of grief that assailed his confused and battered soul, Legolas broke free from his trauma-induced state of shock and returned to lucid consciousness.

But the immediate joy of the elven prince’s recovery was not to last for long. For a dark and frightening theory had begun to form in the ancient elf lord Elrond’s mind while he had sat there those two days next to Legolas’ bedside, waiting for the younger elf’s traumatized spirit to heal and recover from its traumatic experience. What if it was not only the shock from his envisioned, second-hand rape that had caused Legolas to come so dangerously close to entering the Halls of Mandos? What if it had also been the sheer strength of the elf’s vision that had done so much grievous harm to both his body and soul?

For nothing in this world comes without a price. And as Elrond began to fear and suspect with a growing sense of grim certainty, the price of Legolas’ ability to see into the psychic realm of the unknown with but a single touch was the price of his own life. Or rather the forfeit of some small portion of his life-energy to fuel his powerful gift a second-sight for every psychic vision he experienced – a gift whose price was slowly draining the elven prince of his very life...

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“Elf, this is possibly the most fool headed thing I have ever seen you do,” Gimli announced as he hurried to keep up with the elf’s brisk, limping walk, “I should probably go back right now and tell Aragorn, Elrond, or that blasted father of yours what you’re planning to do. I’m sure one of them would be more able to dissuade you from this madness by tying you to the bed.”

“Perhaps, but if you ever actually did such a thing, Master Dwarf, I would be forced to string you up by that beard of yours in such a way that you would have to cut it off to get yourself down,” Legolas replied unconcernedly, not losing a single step as he skillfully weaved his way through the dense crowd of people filling the narrow, snow-covered street he and his companion currently traveled down. Though the elven prince’s words were delivered in their banter’s usual dry sarcasm, Gimli knew better than to completely dismiss the hidden warning in the elf’s threat. He had had the misfortune of doing such a thing once before and had since learned not to repeat such a mistake.

Huffing under his breathe, the dwarf nevertheless persisted. “But, Legolas, you only just recovered from your last vision. It’s foolish of you to be going out again so soon after what happened last time.”

“Perhaps...” Legolas conceded with a small nod as he quickly side-stepped a pair of running, laughing boys that suddenly came barreling down the street towards them and almost plowed right into him without ever even noticing the elf walking there in front of them. “But this is something I must do,” he said, continuing to determinately limp down the crowded street towards the lower levels of the city with his bearded companion trailing close behind.

“But, Legolas, Aragorn doesn’t want you to concern yourself with these murders anymore,” Gimli said, struggling to keep up with the elf and stay by his side despite the thick flow of people around them, “He and Faramir will find a way to take care of this themselves–”

This seemed to finally earn some sort of response from the elven prince, for Legolas stopped so suddenly at those words that Gimli almost barreled right into him. Legolas slowly turned around and looked the dwarf in the eyes. “It’s too late for me not to concern myself with these murders anymore, Gimli,” he said, his voice suddenly low and laced with something the dwarf could not quite place but felt was something akin to smoldering rage, “You say Aragorn and Faramir will find a way to stop this killer, but they have been trying to catch this man for three years now. And they still have yet to find him. True, they may eventually catch this man, but at the cost of how many more innocent lives before that time? I felt this killer through my vision. He will not stop. He will kill again. It is not a matter of if, but when. And I cannot let that happen. I know what he will do to whoever he attacks next... Nay, Gimli. I cannot not concern myself with this. This is no longer just about seeking justice for those young girls he’s killed in the past. This is personal now...” And with that the elven prince then turned and briskly began limping down the crowded street again, his cane angrily tapping off every other step.

Heaving a begrudged sigh of resignation, the warrior dwarf shook his head in helpless irritation and took after his elven friend again. He knew he should have been more suspicious when he had caught Legolas trying to slip out of the palace unnoticed by anyone else earlier that morning. He had originally contributed this to Legolas only wanting to escape his rooms and his father’s incessant mothering for awhile and get some fresh air and exercise, and so had offered to join his friend on what he had assumed was just going to be a quiet walk through the city. Unfortunately, it was only after Legolas had successfully led him well beyond the Citadel that Gimli had finally learned of the elf’s true intention in the city that afternoon.

He wanted to visit the crime scene of the killer’s last victim.

Mumbling curses under his breathe, Gimli hurried to stay close to the limping elf as they continued their descent through the winding city to its lower levels. He knew he should have been more suspicious. He should have known Legolas was going to try and do something like this the minute he was back up and walking again. The elf could never leave well enough alone, especially when it came to his own welfare. He knew he should probably even go back and get someone else to help him convince the elf to give up on this crazy mission he was on. But he didn’t want to leave Legolas alone without anyone there with him should he experience another vision like he had in the House of Healing. Swallowing his misgivings at such a disturbing prospect, Gimli hurried his pace and took his place by the elf’s side as they both continued to weave their way through the densely packed streets.

Gradually, the streets began to grow less populated and empty as the two descended into the second level of the city and moved off the main road onto its smaller back streets. As the dwarf and elf continued deeper into one of the poorer sections of the city, the buildings began to grow noticeably more dingy and run-down. The streets also seemed to become more narrow and close, as if the buildings were trying to somehow move together and box in the two that dared venture into its complex maze of twisting alleys and decrepit buildings.

Looking around in bewilderment, Gimli suddenly realized he had never actually seen the poorer sections of the white city. For some reason he had always pictured the whole city as being the prosperous metropolis it otherwise presented to the rest of the world whenever one first entered the great city and beheld its magnificent facade of grandeur and wealth. It was rather disconcerting to be reminded in such a shocking way that even in possibly one of the wealthiest countries in the world like Gondor there were still those that suffered from poverty.

Glancing up at Legolas, the dwarf noticed that the elf did not seem to take as much notice to their change of surroundings as he did. The prince’s eyes remained set forward, his entire focus intent on reaching their ultimate destination. Gimli could almost see the determination burning in the elf’s ancient blue eyes.

As the two continued down through the dirty, trash littered streets, Legolas finally came to a stop at the mouth of a small dead-end alley. “This is it,” he said in a hushed whisper, slowly scanning the dingy alley before then taking several tentative steps inside.

“How did you come to know of this place?” Gimli asked, not moving from his spot at the entrance of the alley but watching the elf carefully from where he stood, “I’m almost certain Faramir or Aragorn would have become suspicious if you had asked them about the location of the last girl’s murder.”

The elf returned the dwarf’s question with an enigmatic grin. “I may have been in a coma for five years, Master Dwarf, but I still have connections with some of the guards of the city. One of whom now happens to be a captain...” he replied, not going into any further details. The dwarf merely grunted at this and watched as the elf then turned and began looking around the decrepit back alley.

It was perhaps thirty feet long and dead-ended into the back of a building that faced out onto the opposite side of the other street over. There wasn’t much there. Several empty wooden boxes lay discarded on the one side of the alley. Dirt and other trash littered the ground, but that was about it. Legolas looked around in dismay. For some reason he had hoped there would have been more for him there to work with.

“So, elf, what are you planning to do?” Gimli asked, noting the prince’s momentary hesitation and wondering once again if whatever the elf was planning was such a good idea.

Legolas only shot Gimli a quick glance out the corner of his eye before turning back to the wall beside him and stretching out his hands to let his fingers gently brush across the rough stone surface. “I am going to try and see if I can sense something from this place,” he explained as he slowly walked along the alley’s left side, dragging both his hand across the wall as he went, “Maybe something I was unable to see from the things Aragorn and Faramir found before...”

“Other than the knowledge that this killer brutally rapes his victims before strangling them to death?” Gimli offered. Legolas, meanwhile, looked less than enthused by the dwarf’s smart comment and sent him a slightly withering glare out the corner of his eye. “Look, lad,” Gimli sighed, slipping back into grim seriousness, “I’m just trying to say that what you’re doing is dangerous. We both know what happened the last time you tried using your powers to catch this killer... I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. What if Lord Elrond’s right about your powers? What if they are draining your energy every time you use them like he says they might? You’ve only just recovered from you last vision. If you have another one like that again, you could die...”

“Then that is a risk I am willing to take!” Legolas snapped, angrily turning back around to face the dwarf still standing at the entrance of the alley, “This man is not going to stop until he is caught. He will rape and murder again. I have seen and felt what he does to these girls. I know what horrors they experienced just before they died. What vile, unforgivable things he did to them. No. You can stand there and say anything you want to me, Gimli, but I am not going to stop until I find this man and make him pay for these atrocious crimes. If it is in my powers to do so, I will use them to catch him. I do not fear for my own safety. I cannot stop myself from having visions anymore than I can stomach the thought of me standing here and not doing anything to stop these murders. If I can somehow use my powers to prevent the murder of another innocent life, then I will do it.”

A heavy silence quickly descended upon the small alley. The dwarf stood frozen in place, shocked by the intensity of his friend’s words. Never before in all his long years of friendship with the elven prince had he ever heard Legolas speak with such utter conviction and underlying wrath as he just had. The elf’s eyes were like two points of molten sapphire staring back into his own, his tightly clenched jaw quivering slightly with barely restrained emotions. It was in that one moment that Gimli stood silently staring into his friend’s hardened blue eyes that he realized he would never be able to convince Legolas to give up pursuit of this man. This man’s foul deeds had violated the elf’s very soul. Legolas would not stop until he saw justice for every innocent life ever taken by this murderer’s lust and desire to kill.

As if knowing he had finally gotten through to his friend and made the dwarf understand why he couldn’t just forget these horrible crimes like Aragorn and everyone else wanted him to, Legolas turned and once more faced the wall beside him. Taking up where he had left off, the elf once again began running his hands up and down the rough stone surface, desperate to pick up anything with his unique ability of extra sensory touch. But he could feel nothing, only a hollow sense of empty nothingness. Like trying to mentally feel around in a dark, empty room. He continued this process around the alley’s entire perimeter, stretching out all his senses as he went to detect even the smallest twinge in the back of his mind that usually signaled the onset of a psychic vision. But nothing ever came.

Frowning in frustration, the elf turned and slowly limped to the center of the small alley. Very awkwardly, with the help of his cane, Legolas carefully lowered himself onto one knee. Ignoring the chill that seeped in past his thick winter cloak and seemed to course up through his emaciated body like a wave of ice water, the elf set his cane aside on the ground beside him and sat back on his heels. Like a child making a snow angle, Legolas then stretched out both his arms to either side and began slowly dragging his hands across the icy ground.

Gimli, meanwhile, could only stand and stare in rapt fascination as he watched the elf suddenly kneel in the middle of the small alley and begin feeling around on his hands and knees. “Legolas, what are you–”

“Be quiet,” the elf ordered, quickly cutting off the dwarf’s inquiry, “I’m trying to concentrate.” The dwarf immediately complied, but continued to watch his friend from where he stood with growing concern. He didn’t like what Legolas was doing. The elf was still extremely thin from his five year coma and easily susceptible to cold. He had also been considerably weakened by his earlier vision in the House of Healing only several days before (despite all his attempts to pretend otherwise). Gimli wasn’t quite sure how much it would take for Legolas to get sick kneeling on the cold, snowy ground like he was, but he doubted it was much.

Legolas, meanwhile, seemed completely unconcerned by any such thoughts of his own welfare and only leaned down lower, flattening his palms to the icy ground as he slowly shuffled forward on his hands and knees. Slowly running his hands in small circles over the stone pavement and ignoring the stinging cold that was steadily numbing his fingers to ice, the elf stretched out all his known senses to the task at hand, desperately searching for any possible clues his psychic abilities might detect. For several minutes he continued his futile search, desperately running his hands across the ground hoping at any moment to see a brilliant flash of light in his mind quickly followed by a psychic vision. But no such vision ever came.

Finally heaving a heavy sigh of frustration and defeat, the elven prince slowly leaned back from over the ground and sat back on his heels, dejectedly staring down at the ground with an expression of complete failure on his face. He could no longer feel his fingers from running them across the icy ground so long, and the knees and hem of his cloak were now soaking wet with icy slush. The cold February winds seemed to cut right through his shivering body like a sharpened knife through silk, but the elf hardly seemed to even notice it.

“I can’t see anything...” he finally murmured under his breath after a time, not bothering to look back up at his friend who was still worriedly watching him from the mouth of the small alley.

Gimli hesitated for a moment in answering, not quite sure how to respond, especially after just witnessing his friend’s strange display of crawling around on the ground trying to feel for some kind of psychic clue. “Well, the girl’s murder would have been over four days ago...” he said, beginning to slowly walk towards Legolas who was still sat there kneeling on the icy ground staring down into his lap, “Is it possible that whatever causes these visions of yours can somehow... fade... after a time?” he asked, finally come to stand by his friend’s side.

“I don’t know,” the kneeling elf said, still not looking up to meet his friend’s worried gaze.

Gimli frowned. He could tell Legolas was frustrated and angry and probably somehow blaming himself again for not being able to use his psychic powers to gain any useful information in helping to stop this mysterious killer. “Com’mon, elf,” he sighed, motioning for Legolas to get up and stand, “Let’s go back to the palace. It’s starting to get cold. We should go back before that father of yours finds you missing and demands Aragorn send out a search party after us.”

Legolas said nothing but obediently reached for his cane lying there on the ground beside him and shakingly got to his feet. Together, without a single word exchanged between them as they went, the two began to slowly make their way back through the winding streets to the main thoroughfare of the city that would lead them back to the Citadel. The trip back was long and arduous, the elven prince’s disheartened mood from failing in his fruitless mission in the city earlier that day seeming to weigh down on both their spirits like a heavy weight.

When the elf and dwarf finally reached the familiar stone halls of the Hall of Kings, the two quietly made their way through the winding stone corridors to the upper living quarters of the palace. None of the passing servants they met in the halls seemed to take any notice of their return, nor did the two meet anyone else they knew to hinder them in their progress back to their rooms or question them about their previous whereabouts. Finally reaching the doors to Legolas’ chambers the two both entered, the unspoken understanding that Gimli was not about to leave his friend just yet already known and automatically assumed.

As the dwarf closed the door to the room behind them, Legolas slowly limped over to his favorite armchair near the window and tiredly collapsed into its welcoming embrace with a weary sigh, not caring that he still wore his soaking wet winter cloak. Letting himself sink into the comfortable, overstuffed cushions, he suddenly realized he hadn’t realized just how much his trip into the lower levels of the city had exhausted him until he had actually sat down and relieved his stinging leg muscles of his weight. It seemed as if he still had not yet recovered all his strength from his previous vision in the House of Healing. Somehow thinking this only reminded the elf of his failed attempt at finding more clues in the alley earlier that day and quickly let his melancholic mood take hold of him once again.

Turning back from closing the door to Legolas’ room behind them, Gimli finally turned to fully face his friend and look him in the eyes for the first time since leaving the alley. “Alright, elf,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and leveling a stern gaze at the brooding prince, “You can stop moping around now. I know you’re upset about not being able to see anything back there in that alley, but you need to stop blaming yourself for not being able to do anything about these murders. You are not the only one that feels frustrated about this whole mess. Aragorn and Faramir feel exactly the same way you do right now.”

“No they don’t...” Legolas muttered dispassionately, turning to stare out the nearby window, “They don’t have the ability to possibly end all of this with just one touch or vision. They do not have the ability to see and actually feel what atrocities this man has committed and know there is nothing they can do to stop him from killing again...”

Gimli snorted. “Now I think you’re just letting that bump on the side of your head swell that already inflated ego of yours, elf,” he said, forcing Legolas to curiously look back up at him for his bluntness. You don’t think Aragorn and Faramir feel the same way you do for not being able to catch this man?” he forged ahead saying, knowing he finally had his friend’s undivided attention. “They have been trying to stop him for over three years now! Granted they do not quite have the same perspective you have for these murders, but I’m sure they feel exactly the same way you right now. It is their responsibility to see to the safety and protection of this city, and right now they are failing in that responsibility just as you are failing to use these psychic powers of yours to find any clues. You are not the only one that is trying to stop this man. You are not the only one to want to see them stopped before anyone else is hurt.”

Legolas sat for a long moment of silence, quietly mulling the dwarf’s words over in his head. It was true what Gimli had said. Aragorn and Faramir did not have the same perspective on the horrors inflicted on these girls as he did. He had felt it. He had seen it. He had actually lived through it and experienced the degradation, humiliation, and fear.

But it was also true that he was probably giving himself too much credit in sympathizing with the victims and watching to see their rapist murderer caught. The King and his Steward were responsible for the protection of their city and its people, and right now they were failing in that duty. It was only then that Legolas suddenly realized how frustrating this situation must also be on his friends; to not be able to stop this man they have been trying to catch now for almost three years.

The elf slowly broke eye contact with his friend and looked back out the frost covered window. “You’re right Gimli,” he finally said with a sigh, “As usual...” he then added softly with a wan smile. “I was not thinking of the others that have been trying to catch this man for far longer than I have even known of these murders. It’s just that I feel so... helpless right now... Aragorn and Faramir came to me hoping I could somehow help them, and I failed. I’m just so frustrated with these powers! Every time it seems I might be able to use them to help someone, they never work. It’s like I’m cursed to only see visions of things I am unable to so anything about or prevent,” he said, bitterly staring out the window.

Gimli stood for a moment staring down at his friend with a softened gaze of understanding now shining in his dark little eyes. He was almost about to open his mouth and say something else to try and comfort the sullen elf, when a soft knock at the door suddenly interrupted him.

Legolas slowly turned back from the window and looked towards the closed door of his room. “Enter,” he called.

The door slowly swung open at the sound of his voice to reveal a young servant girl standing there in the doorway with a laden tray in her arms. “Good afternoon, my Lords. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you. I just saw you returning from your trip down into the city earlier and thought you might like something to warm yourselves with seeing as how it is so cold out today,” she said with a timid smile, motioning down to the tray in her arms with a nod. On it sat a small pot of tea and several iced pastries for them to snack on.

Legolas smiled brightly at the girl’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Erien,” he said, “We would love some refreshments right now.”

Reassured by the elf’s warm smile, the girl walked into the room and set the tray down on a small table standing just off to the side of Legolas’ chair. “Is there anything else I could bring you, my Lord?” she then asked, looking back at the elven prince.

“No, but thank you, Erien,” Legolas replied, “I think Gimli and I are fine for the moment.”

 “Would you at least like me to take your cloak, Sir?” she persisted, looking down at the prince’s sopping wet cloak, “You could catch cold if you do not get into some drier clothes soon.”

Legolas could not help but smile at the girl. Though he had never known Erien before his untimely accident over five years ago since at the time she still had not yet joined the palace’s domestic staff, Legolas had found that the girl had taken an almost immediate shine to him after his unexpected awakening, and always seemed to pay extra attention to his needs more than anyone else in the household. (Gimli always joked that even in his less than fair state of appearances at the moment, Legolas still managed to ensnared the hearts of helpless young maidens everywhere.)

In fact, he had been told, Erien had been one of the first ones there when he had so startlingly woken out of his coma. Apparently she had been the one sent by Elladan and Elrohir to go fetch Aragorn and Elrond while they and Gimli had stayed there trying calm him while he had been in the grips of his very first psychic experience. Even since then, Erien had become something of a personal servant to the elven prince; having always been the first to answer his calls during those first few weeks of his recover and rehabilitation and still taking it upon herself to look in on him periodically throughout the day to see if he needed anything despite the fact he was once again mobile and self-sufficient.

Legolas shook his head affectionately. “Are you worried that I might become ill, Erien?” he asked teasingly.

“No, my Lord,” she replied with a cheeky smile, “I just worry that you might ruin the upholstery of that chair if you do not take that soaking wet mess off your body soon,” she quipped, earning herself a light-hearted chuckle from the elven prince.

“Is that so?” he laughed, “Well then I have nothing with which to argue such a case against,” he chuckled, obediently standing to divest himself of his wet winter cloak from over the rest of his clothes and hand it to the waiting girl before once again settling back into his chair.

Draping the offensive piece of clothing over her arm to take down to the laundry for cleaning, Erien then politely curtsied to the dwarf and elf. “I will take my leave now, my Lords,” she said, turning towards the doors to Legolas’ room. “If you require anything else, Miriel will see to it. There are matters at home that I must leave and attend to,” she said, momentarily pausing at the door to call back, “Oh, and Lord Legolas,” she added, poking her head back in before finally disappearing out the door, “Your father, Lord Thranduil, was searching for you earlier this morning. He seemed rather distraught when he could not locate you. I just thought I should warn you...” And with that, she was finally gone.

Legolas groaned loudly at this last proclamation and leaned his head back against the chair. Gimli just laughed.

“And what prey tell, Master Dwarf, do you find so amusing?” Legolas inquired, suspicious of the other’s sly laughter.

“Nothing...” Gimli chuckled under his breath, but then seemed to reconsider his answer. “It just amazes me how easy those of the fairer sex always seem to fawn over you... especially when you are in the position to receive any kind of motherly coddling from them...” the dwarf said with as much control as he could manage at the indignant look sent his way from the less than amused elf sitting beside him.

“I do not need coddling,” Legolas protested peevishly, “And ladies do not “fawn” over me.”

“Of course they don’t...” Gimli agreed with as much solemnity as he could muster as he fought to keep a straight face. Unfortunately though, the scathing glare he earned out the corner of his friend’s eye quickly broke any resolve he might have had to keep up his facade, and quickly broke down into loud, guffawing laughter.

Legolas meanwhile just rolled his eyes, wondering for probably the millionth time in his long friendship with Gimli why Eru ever decided to curse him with such a creature as a friend that seemed to possess such a fond love of tormenting him. As Gimli finally started to regain some control of himself, Legolas shook his head in exasperation at his friend and absentmindedly reached out beside him for one of the pastries Erien had brought for them.

The elf had his mind set on snatching a particularly delicious looking apple tart sitting on the far side of the tray before Gimli could spot it and claim it as his own when his fingers happened to accidentally brush across the metal tray. A searing white bolt of light immediately shot through Legolas’s brain, slamming against the back of his skull.

Crying out loudly in surprise, the elf collapsed to his knees beside his armchair, clutching the left side of his head. His eyes stared ahead blankly, his pupils darkened to the color of the sky right before the unleashing of a violent summer lightening storm.

Gimli was instantly there by the elf’s side, quickly wrapping a thick arm around the prince’s gaunt shoulders in a vain attempt to comfort Legolas in his throes or at least let Legolas know he was still there with him until he was finally able to break out of whatever psychic vision he was having. Finally, after what seemed like forever to the frightened dwarf kneeling beside his seizing friend on the ground, the elven prince finally began to quiet, his muffled cries falling away and his breathing slowly beginning steady.

Panting weakly, the elven prince blinked his eyes back to blue and shook his head as if coming out a deep trance. “Gimli? Gimli?” he called out blindly, his voice weak and shaking as began frantically groping around for anything to help him stand. The elf’s whole body was now shaking, his eyes wide with fear and unmistakable panic.

“I’m right here, Legolas,” the dwarf assured gently, squeezing the elf’s shoulder for emphasis of his presence there beside him, “It’s alright. It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Help,” Legolas whispered, oblivious to the dwarf’s reassurances and desperately trying to pull himself to his feet, “Help. Get Aragorn. Please. Go get Aragorn. Now! Quick!”

“Why? What’s the matter? What did you see?” Gimli demanded, panic instantly beginning to swell inside him as he watched the elf continue to desperately try and get to his feet.

“Erien...” Legolas whispered weakly as if all his energy had been completely drained from his body, “Please. Go get Aragorn. Tell him he needs to find her quickly,” he said, turning panicked blue eyes up at his friend. “She’s going to be the killer’s next victim...”

******

To Be Continued...

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Uh oh... This can’t be good... Is Legolas going to be able to save Erien in time before she’s attacked by this mysterious killer? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see! ‘Till then!

Like it? Hate it? Tell me! I’m dying to know!