A thousand thanks as always to my reviewers Iwarren, Lyn, and Sofia.  And as for the rest of you lurkers... *sigh* What am I going to do with you?  As long as you're enjoying the story, I guess...

******

Legolas’ cane beat a frantic rhythm beside him as he hurriedly limped down the snowy streets of Minas Tirith as fast as he could. Everything around him was nothing more than a blurry whirlwind of movement and color. Nothing else seemed to even exist except the one destination single-mindedly locked in the elf’s mind. Panic gripped his heart and seemed to choke his throat. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe the fear was so great. If not for the handicap of his lame left leg, Legolas would have probably long ago broken into an all out run to reach his ultimate goal. But he couldn’t, and so had to struggle on as fast as he could with only the aid of his cane.

Flanking either side of the frantic elf, jogged Aragorn and Gimli. Neither said anything as they went, both sharing the same feelings of awful dread as their elven friend. It was only because of Legolas that they themselves kept from racing as fast as their legs could carry them in their descent of the white city to it’s lower levels.

“This way,” Aragorn pointed as he quickly veered to the right down one of the many side streets lining that main thoroughfare of the city as they finally passed the sixth gate and moved into the fifth level of the great metropolis. “It should be close now...” he muttered, unconsciously quickening his pace as he began hurriedly scanning both sides of the narrow but cleanly swept street he and his companions raced down. Gimli and Legolas quickly veered after him, hardly losing a step behind the jogging man.

Following close behind the king and his two companions were half a dozen White Guards of the Citadel, their armor noisily clinking together as they raced behind their liege down the narrow, snow-dusted street. A collective tension hung over all of them. Each of them knew the reason for their king’s sudden call to arms and his order less than an hour ago that every White Guard in the city was to immediately return to his post and be put on a mass emergency patrol over the entire city. They knew why their lord had done so. Valar! Half the palace already did and so did a growing portion of the civilian population.

The mysterious killer that had plagued the streets of their fair city for the past three years was back...

Meanwhile, at the head of the group, Legolas desperately prayed to any roaming Valar near enough to hear him that they were not already too late. In his latest psychic vision, he had seen Erien being attacked by a heavily cloaked figure and dragged kicking and screaming down into a dark alley. Helpless to do anything, Legolas was only able to look on in horror as he watched Erien be swallowed by the inky darkness of the alley, her attacker bodily dragging her from sight as he clamped a hand down over her mouth to muffle her frightened cries for help.

When he had finally came out of his vision, Legolas had immediately sent Gimli to alert Aragorn of this and go catch the girl before she left the palace. But Erien was already gone by then. And none of the other servants knew where she had gone.

So now, frantic beyond words to find Erien before her mysterious killer did, Legolas, along with Aragorn and Gimli raced through the narrow, snow-dusted streets of the city, desperately searching for the young servant girl that would soon become the killer’s latest victim if they did not find her soon with half a dozen White Guards following close behind them on their heels.

“Here! This is it,” Aragorn finally called as the group rounded yet another corner in the seemingly endless maze of streets and alleys and came to a stop in front of a small, humble looking house standing on right hand side of the street. “This is where the one of the other servants said Erien lives.”

Not wasting a moment, Legolas quickly pushed his way to the front of the group. “Erien! Erien, are you in there?” he called loudly as he began feverishly pounding on the house’s heavy wooden door, “Erien! Erien, answer me!” Finally after several minutes of this and still receiving no answer or hearing any sound of movement from within, Legolas frantically looked at Aragorn.

“She might not be able to hear you,” the man offered lamely, his own dread for what this lack of response could mean shining brightly in his eyes.

“Please... Half the street probably just heard the elf,” Gimli grunted, trying to peer into one of the house’s darkened windows. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” he said ominously, shaking his head and looking back up at Legolas and Aragorn.

“But we have to find her!” Legolas cried, his panic quickly beginning to boil over his princely self-control, “She’s going to be attacked and killed if we don’t find her soon! I saw it! She’s going to be the killer’s next victim!”

“Peace, Legolas,” Aragorn said, trying to calm the frantic prince, “We’re going to find her. Don’t worry. Harberd,” he then called, looking back over his shoulder towards one of the White Guards standing behind them, “Break down the door.”

The guard nodded and quickly came to stand in front of the wooden door. Lowering his shoulder like a battering ram and bracing himself against the door post, the guard then threw his weight forward, connecting with the door with a deep thud. It held fast, but with the guard’s second assault, the door’s lock finally gave way and flew inwards, revealing the darkened interior of a humble living apartment beyond.

Harberd followed the door inwards and stepped to the side to hold the door open for his king as Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli quickly filed into the house behind him, followed closely by the other five guards. Standing together, the three friends solemnly scanned the dimly lit room.

The room was small, but clean and tastefully furnished. On one side of the room was the set up of a humble kitchen; a stove and a few cabinets and counter space for cutting vegetables and such other things. Several pots and other cooking utensils hung from pegs on the side of the wall. Across the room stood a large wooden table with several chairs scattered around it. Near that on the far wall was a small fireplace. Its pit was cold and dark, contesting to the fact that no fire had been lit in it for quite some time despite the fact that it was now the beginning of February and snow lay heavy on the ground outside. An ominous chill hung in the air and seemed to seep down to the very marrow of those that stood in the open doorway of the dark and silent room.

“Search the house,” Aragorn said, his voice ringing loudly in the still silence of the house as he turned back to face his guards, “Leave no room unchecked.”

The guards nodded and quickly disappeared deeper into the house to do as they were ordered, leaving Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli alone in the small outer room to anxiously wait their return. Within less than only a few minutes, they returned, their faces low and solemn. “The house is empty, Sire,” one of them said, confirming their worst fear, “There’s no sign that anyone’s been here for most of the day.”

“I already feared as much...” Aragorn sighed disheartedly, “I want two of you to stay and stand guard by the door to wait and see if the girl happens to come back, and I want the rest of you to search the area. Ask the neighbors and any of the other people in this area if they’ve happened to see the girl today and know where she’s gone.”

“Yes, Sir!” the guards chorused and quickly filed out the door to do as they were ordered, leaving the three friends alone in the empty house. For a long moment of silence, the trio just stood there, none of them knowing what to say after this disappointing turn of events.

“Well, what do we do now?” Gimli asked, scuffling his feet heavily across the floor.

“There’s really nothing more we can do right now,” Aragorn replied with a heavy sigh as he looked around the room slowly, “We don’t know where she is. Erien could be anywhere right now. All we can do is wait and see if she comes back or if someone can find her.”

“Well that’s not good enough!” Legolas snapped angrily, his frustration and desperation to find the missing girl clear, “We do not have that kind of time. We cannot wait to see if she just comes back on her own. We must find her while we still can. She is going to be attacked, I tell you!”

“And we do not doubt you on that, Legolas,” Aragorn replied, “But right now there’s nothing more we can do that we haven’t already done. Erien is missing. There’s no way we can protect her if we do not even know where she is. And besides, she also left the palace not that long ago. She might have stopped off somewhere on the way home...” he tried to reason in a hopeful tone.

Legolas however did not seem to share the man’s optimism and instead scanned the small room they stood in. “Well, if you’re just going to stand here and wait for her to show up on her own, or be found dead in the back of some alley, then perhaps I might be able to find out where she’s gone,” the elf said, slowly limping over towards the small fireplace.

Ignoring his friends closely watching from behind and focusing his attention on what he was trying to do, the elf began to slowly run his hands along the top mantle of the fireplace, searching for any sign of Erien’s presence. Getting no reaction, he then moved to let his fingers graze across the wooden armrests a rocking chair sitting off to the side of the cold fireplace. He got no reaction from this either. Nor did he receive any kind of vision from a small pile of discarding yarn and knitting needles sitting there on the rocking chair’s seat, or from the nearby end table, or the brush he found laying atop that, or the stove as he desperately moved across the room to search there, or anything else he felt that the missing girl might have touched to leave something for the elf to sense with his psychic powers. He continued this for several long minutes of empty silence, but still nothing came to him. As each visionless object was set aside and a new one picked up for examination, the elf’s frustration began to steadily build and grow.

Finally resorting to running his hands over the section of counter space in the small kitchen area, the elf finally gave out a long, frustrated cry of defeat as he was once more met with failure. Screaming his frustration and helpless rage, Legolas blindly reached out and grabbed a small cup sitting there on the edge of the counter, and before he even realized what he was doing, angrily threw it up against the nearby wall, shattering the cup into a million tiny pieces of broken glass.

Unable to stop the flow of helpless tears that suddenly sprang up in his eyes and threatened to overflow his defenses, Legolas buried his face in his hands and leaned down over the counter so that his elbows could rest on the solid wood surface as building sobs began to shake his emaciated frame.

Left only to watch this frightening display of tried and frustrated emotions, Aragorn and Gimli could only look on in dumbfound shock as they watched their friend lean down over the counter and break down into uncontrolled sobs of helplessness and defeat.

“Legolas...?” Aragorn called softly, taking a few tentative steps towards his friend, “Legolas, are you alright?”

“I can’t see anything!” the elf’s muffled wail sounded behind his hands, “I just can’t see!” he screamed, balling his hands into fists and smashing them down on the counter with a loud bang.

“Legolas it’s alright. Come on. Come sit down,” Aragorn said, coming to stand by his friend’s side, “You look terrible. You need to sit down. Come on,” he coaxed, gently bringing the elf around enough to listen to him. “Come on. Let’s go sit down,” he said, reaching out and gently taking hold of the elf’s arm.

Too emotionally drained to put up any form of protest or even remind the man that he didn’t like being touched, the elven prince slowly straightened from over the counter and let Aragorn lead him towards the large wooden table sitting on the other side of the room. Drained and wearied to the core, Legolas barely even acknowledged Gimli pulling out a chair for him before numbly dropping down into it. Hunching down in his seat, the elf leaned his head down onto his hands over the table, letting his fingers bury themselves into his thick mane of gold and white streaked hair that fell forward to partially obscure his face.

“Do you need anything?” he heard Gimli ask from somewhere close beside him.

“No,” he replied huskily, his voice completely drained of all energy and emotion.

“Here,” Aragorn said, coming up on the other side of the elven prince and holding out a dampened rag he had gotten from the girl’s kitchen to Legolas. The elf wordlessly took the offered cloth and held it to his eyes, immediately feeling a bit more calmed and refreshed as he let the cool, damp cloth soak against his heated face. As he did this, Aragorn and Gimli quietly took a seat beside their elven companion, the man across from him on the other side of the table and Gimli close beside Legolas to his right. Neither said anything and allowed Legolas the time he needed to compose himself enough to talk to them.

Finally after several long minutes of silence, Legolas finally felt like he was once again calm enough to remove the cloth from his face, and set the rag aside on the table. Shamefully raising his eyes from off the table, the elven prince slowly looked up to meet his friend’s worried gazes. “I’m sorry..,” he finally said after a time, giving himself another moment to collect his thoughts, “I don’t know what came over me just now...”

“You do not need to explain yourself, Legolas,” Aragorn said softly across from him, “I understand how you must feel right now. This situation is starting to take it’s toll on all of us.”

“I’m just so frustrated right now,” Legolas nevertheless tried to explain as he once again propped his head up on his hand and distantly stared down at the table with a tired and forlorn expression on his face, “I can never seem to make my powers work when I need them to. It’s like I can only wait until a vision actually comes to me. I have no control over my powers... I just want to find Erien. I don’t want anything to happen to her like what happened to those other girls. I don’t know what I would do if something actually happens to her,” he struggled to explain, “I just want to actually help someone for a change instead of being unable to do anything. But I can never seem to see anything useful. And I’m just so tired...” he murmured, unconsciously rubbing the heel of his hand into his reddened eyes with a tired shake of his head.

“Legolas, maybe you should go back to the palace and rest,” Aragorn suggested, his voice soft and full of concern for his elven friend, “I can tell you are tired and suffering from exhaustion. When was the last time you’ve rested? Gimli told me about your earlier trip down into the city this morning, and then you just came here with us. You’re still weak from your last vision in the House of Healing – you’ve only just recovered! You’re exhausted. You can’t keep running around like this. And then this latest vision with Erien... Legolas, please. You must take some rest. You remember what Elrond said about you having these visions... They’re slowly weakening you.”

“I am fine, Aragorn,” the elf protested indignantly, somewhat irritated by the man’s notion that he was too weak to do anything but lay in bed all day like some kind of helpless invalid. “I am not going to leave until I know that Erien is alive and safe.”

“Legolas, please,” the man persisted, “I already have half the guards in the city out looking for her as we speak and the other half on patrol looking for this killer. There is nothing else we can do right now but wait and hope that they find her or she comes back on her own. All you will do is make yourself ill by staying here. You have already sacrificed more than anyone else on this case. Please. Go back to the palace and rest. I will send a messenger to you the minute I receive any word on Erien. I promise.”

Legolas sat for a long moment of tense silence with an unreadable expression on his face, staring at the king of Gondor as if deciding wether to be angry or thankful for his friend’s show of concern for him. Finally though, after another long moment of stagnant silence, the elf let his face slip into an expression of weary exhaustion.

“You are right, Aragorn,” he sighed tiredly, “There is nothing more I can do here. The most I would do is just get in the way. I will go back and rest. I feel like I haven’t slept in months.”

Aragorn, at first, was rather taken aback by the elf’s easy acquiescence of his suggestion to go back to the palace and rest, but then nodded his head in satisfaction, relieved to hear that he had actually managed to convince Legolas to listen to reason for once and not continue on with this dangerous crusade he was on. He had almost lost his friend once to one of his psychic visions. He was not about to lose him now just because the elf was too stubborn to be concerned with his own welfare. “That is good to hear, Legolas. Would you like me have one of the guards outside escort you back to the palace?”

“No. That won’t be necessary,” Legolas replied wearily, slowly getting to his feet with the help of his cane, “Gimli will come with me,” he said, glancing down at his bearded companion who, since sitting down, had remained silent throughout the entire conversation.

“Don’t worry, Aragorn. I’ll go with him and make sure he doesn’t get himself into any trouble,” the dwarf assured, standing up beside the elf.

“Alright then,” the man nodded, also getting to his feet and turning towards the door, “I must see to some matters at the guard barracks about these extra patrols. I promise I will send a message to you the minute I hear anything on this, Legolas,” he assured one last time as the three friends slowly moved towards the door of the empty house.

“Thank you, Aragorn,” Legolas replied as he and his two companions moved through the open door and past the two guards stationed on either side of the missing girl’s house and into the snow covered street beyond, “We will see you later then.”

Nodding and holding his hand up to his friends as a sign of parting, the man then turned and strode down the street, leaving the elf and dwarf behind to stare after him. As Aragorn finally disappeared around a corner, Legolas turned and began to walk in the opposite direction his friend had just gone. Gimli was soon to follow and quickly took his customary place by the elf’s side as the two slowly walked back in the direction of the Hall of Kings.

Nothing was spoken as they walked, their heads too full of thoughts to speak. Worries of the missing girl’s whereabouts weighed heavily on both their minds and seemed to fill the air around them with a building tension of fear and growing distress.

Gimli glanced over at his friend as they walked together in silence, stealing a quick look at the despondent elf out of the corner of his eye. Legolas looked terrible. There was no other word to describe the elf. Legolas’ eyes stared ahead distant and empty, none of the elf’s natural inner light shining out from within. Dark circles ringed both his eyes and his skin looked unnaturally sickly and pale, contesting without a doubt to the terrible weight of stress that was slowly beginning to weigh down on the elf’s already weak state despite his attempts to pretend otherwise. Though the elven prince walked with a determined step in his limping gait, the dwarf could tell Legolas was exhausted. He leaned heavily on his cane, using it more as a crutch than just a walking aide.

The elf was weakening. He could see it. Even if Legolas still refused to. Though his latest vision of Erien’s attack had not been as bad as the one experience in the House of Healing several days before, Gimli knew it had nevertheless taken a heavy toll on his friend. Not only from the fear of finding the girl before her murderer did, but from the actual experience of it.

Perhaps Elrond’s fears for the young elf’s weakening health were not so unjustified as Gimli had at first so desperately wanted not to believe when he had first heard the ancient elf-lord’s ominous prediction.

Legolas’ powers were slowly draining him of vim and vigor... He could see it in the elf’s eyes...

But the dwarf had no more time to ponder these foreboding thoughts as he was brought out of his thoughts by Legolas suddenly veering off the path leading up to the main archway of the Hall of King’s front courtyard that stood just up the road in the near distance.

“Hey! Elf! Where are you going?” he called after the retreating figure as the elf veered down a side street on the left hand side of the road, leaving the dwarf behind to stare at his friend’s retreating back. “The palace is this way!” Gimli called after Legolas again, “You’re going the wrong way!”

“I know...” Legolas shouted back over his shoulder, not bothering to pause or even stop to face the confused dwarf as he continued to determinedly limp away from his friend down the empty side street, “That’s because we’re not going back to the palace...” he explained over his shoulder as he continued to slowly limp away, “We’re going to try and find out where Erien went,” he said, drawing a startled gasp from his friend.

“But you just told Aragorn that you were going back to the palace to rest!” Gimli shouted after the retreating elf in complete disbelief at what he was hearing.

“I lied,” was the elf’s shouted reply, “If Aragorn thinks I am just going to forget this and stand by and let another girl be brutally raped and murdered, then he deserves to be fooled. Come with me if you wish, but either way, I am going.” And with that, the elf finally disappeared down the street, leaving the dwarf alone staring after him.

For a moment, Gimli did nothing. But then with a loud, feral growl from between his clenched teeth, the dwarf threw his hands up into the air in defeat and took off after the blonde- haired prince. “Damn you, elf!” he roared as he sped away down the empty side-street, all the while silently cursing Aulë for ever cursing him with such an infuriating creature as a friend that seemed to always go out of his way just to make his life difficult. “From now on I’m not letting you out of the palace without a lease!” And with that, the dwarf disappeared down the darkened side street after his elusive friend.

******

Dark shadows were beginning to lengthen across the snowy ground. Though it was no later than the fourth hour of the afternoon, the sun was already beginning to slowly sink below the horizon, setting the Western corner of the sky ablaze with fading colors of red and gold. Night came early to the southern lands of Gondor in the snowy winter months.

Walking beside each other through the complex maze of twisting side streets, moved two lone figures through the sun’s last few golden rays and the night’s lengthening shadows.

“So where are you leading us, elf?” the shorter of the two figures grumbled irritably as they moved through the narrow streets, “I feel like we’ve just walked around the entire palace three times.”

“I assure you we have not,” replied the taller of the pair, his cane tapping a steady beat beside him.

“Then where in Aulë’s name are you taking us?” Gimli huffed in exasperation, looking up at his elven companion in annoyance, “We’re almost near the back entrance of the palace now. No one ever uses this way except servants and domestic staff.”

“Exactly,” Legolas said with a nod as he and his friend moved out from the twisting streets of the city into a small open area – almost like a mini courtyard of sorts with several different side streets radiating out from it– standing in front of a large wooden door set into the towering stone wall of the Hall of King’s outer bulwark. No other living soul seemed to be in the entire area except for the elf, dwarf and several lone guards standing watch on the high battlements of the wall above. “This is the way all the servants and other palace personnel enter and leave the palace. It’s so they have their own, less conspicuous entrance whenever they go about their duties. Erien would have taken this way to leave the palace. We’re going to try and retrace the steps she would have had to have taken to go home, and see if we can’t find her.”

“Elf...” Gimli shook his head with a heavy sigh, “When are you going to give up on this? The palace’s entire staff leaves through this door. There’s no way we know which way she would have gone after leaving the palace. And you’re powers haven’t exactly been all that cooperative the last couple times you’ve tried to do something like this...”

“You want me to just forget about Erien just like Aragorn does, don’t you?” Legolas said incredulously in a slightly wounded voice as he turned to look his friend in the eyes, “You want me to just stand by and let her be raped and murdered just like him?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, elf,” Gimli replied defensively, “And that’s not what Aragorn wants you to do either. Neither of us want to see any more girls get hurt or killed. We’re just worried about you, lad. I don’t think you really realize how dangerous of thing these psychic powers of yours really are.”

“But, Gimli, I have to try,” Legolas tried to explain in an almost desperate tone, “I have to try and save her.”

“But Aragorn’s already got half the city’s guards out looking for her. They’ll find her, lad. Just be patient and give it time.”

“But we don’t have time!” Legolas exclaimed, “Don’t you see, Gimli, that’s just my point! We have to find her before it’s too late!” And with that, without waiting for any kind of acceptance or acquiescence from his friend, the elven prince than turned and determinedly limped away towards the closed staff door of the palace.

Gimli stared after the elf for several long moments of indecision, his worry and doubt clearly written across his ruddy face. “Aw, blast it!” he finally grumbled under his breathe and hurried to catch up with his limping friend.

Legolas, meanwhile, had only just reached the large wooden door that opened into the dark servant passages of the Hall of Kings beyond. He stood with his back to Gimli as the dwarf finally caught up to him, and stood for a moment silently staring at the wooden door as if sizing up its rough, weathered surface and trying to speculate what secrets it might be holding. Tentatively, the elf reached out a hand and let his finger tips gently graze the wood. Flattening his palm against it, Legolas slowly ran his hand up and down the weathered surface.

Like a faint echo in the back of his mind he could sense the presence of people, like the shadowy whisper of ghosts of all the countless people that had ever used this door as they went about their daily business floating just along the edges of his conscious thought. But none of them he could truly identify as the young servant girl he searched for.

Moving slowly, the elf began to walk to the left, dragging his hand along the wall beside him as he went. His eyes had grown distant and dark and stared ahead blindly as he continued to slowly move along the wall. Gimli followed close behind the entranced elf, watching his friend closely both out of a strong sense of protectiveness and a strange curiosity to know what the elf was seeing. Legolas followed the path of the wall in this manner down into a nearby side street, all the while never breaking hand-contact with the wall beside him. Walking as if in a trance, Legolas continued to blankly stare ahead as he let the soft lull of psychic presences fill his mind and lead him down the darkened street, his dwarvish companion following close behind him like some kind of little puppy.

As Legolas continued in this fashion down the empty street, he came to a small, hollow alcove built into the thick stone walls of the building lining that particular side of the street. It looked like a small fountain might have once resided there as some sort of public decoration, but at some point had been removed or destroyed, leaving only a hollowed impression in the wall behind.

As Legolas came to this spot and let his hand follow the wall’s contour into the rounded hollow of the fountain alcove, he suddenly felt a sharp explosion of blinding light shoot through his mind and flare white in his eyes. A startled gasp flew from his lips, his eyes instantly darkening further to the tell-tale obsidian black color of a full blown psychic vision. His other hand flew out and caught the alcove’s edge to help steady his suddenly weak knees.

Gimli was instantly there by his side. “What is it, elf? What do you see?” he demanded.

Legolas slowly turned his head over his shoulder back towards the wooden servant door standing down the street in the distance. “He was standing right here...” he said slowly, his voice low and mechanical. “He was watching her... Waiting...”

“Who was?” Gimli demanded.

Legolas stared down the street back towards the door leading into Hall of Kings for several long moment of tense silence, his eyes fathomless and dark. “The killer...” he whispered softly.

He wanted a smoke. It was cold and he was starting to get annoyed. He had been waiting there for almost an hour now, and still there was no sign of the one he was waiting for. People hurried back and forth down the street in front of the small little alcove he stood in. No one took much notice of him and was for the most part completely ignored by anyone passing close enough to actually even see him standing there in the shadows of the darkened alcove. He sighed and scuffled his feet across the snowy ground.

Valar, he wanted a smoke... But he couldn’t smoke here, no, not here in public. He remembered what his father used to say about pipeweed whenever he was drunk and in the mood to go off on one of his drunken rants. (It was usually better for the old man to rant anyways. Because when he was drunk, if he wasn’t in the mood to rant, he was usually in the mood to hit someone, and that someone had almost always been him when he was younger...)

His old man had always seen smoking as a sign of weakness. Only men with no self-control indulged themselves in such detestable habits like smoking, his father used to always say. No... He would have to wait until later when he was alone and could secretly indulge in the very vice his father used to despise above all else, and be reminded once again why he had never been worthy enough to earn his father’s love. Because he was just like all those men his father used to rant about: a man with no self-control that couldn’t even control his own base impulses or desires... Luckily no one else he knew seemed to know of his habit. And he meant to keep it that way.

He sighed heavily. Gods he wanted a smoke... But he pushed the persistent thought from his head and turned his thoughts back to the present.

Leaning back into the darker shadows of the alcove, he scanned the street again. The people were beginning to drift away, slowly making their way back home – wherever that may be... It was not that late in the afternoon, but the sun was already starting to move towards the west, preparing to make its final descent down towards the waiting horizon. It was also starting to get colder in anticipation of the coming night.

He hated winter and how it always got so dark so fast. It was barely even mid-afternoon and already the sky was beginning to darken. But no matter how much he might have despised the early darkness, he could not deny it suited his other vice that no one else knew of... At least in the darkness he did not have to worry about anyone seeing him or interrupting his secret little game...

As he thought this, the soft sound of flitting laughter reached his ears and abruptly pulled him from his thoughts. Looking down the street, he saw a young girl leaving out through the door that was a servant entrance that lead into the great Hall of Kings.

Finally...

The girl was looking back over her shoulder and waving with a smile to someone hidden from his view on the other side of the door. Probably one of her friends that worked on the palace staff with her. Giving a final wave and smiling brightly, the girl then turned to walk down the street towards him.

Pressing himself back into the shadows to hide him from view, he waited until the girl had passed him and walked several paces on before finally peeling himself away from the darkness and emerged from his hiding spot.

Legolas slowed pulled himself upright from off against the stone wall of the small alcove, his eyes just as blank and dark as when he had first been stricken with his sudden psychic vision. He began to walk, slowly turning down the right hand side of the street. Gimli was quick to follow, not saying a word as he tentatively took his place beside the entranced elf.

Legolas’ face was an unreadable mask. He said nothing as he walked, but stared ahead blankly as if seeing a thousand miles into the distance. What the elf was currently seeing, Gimli could not say. But he dared not try and break Legolas out of his trance to ask. For he felt Legolas had finally found that psychic clue he had been searching for all day...

He walked slowly, being sure to keep a good distance between him and the girl walking about twenty feet or so in front of him. Her loose brown hair bobbed behind her with every step she took and every so often she would raise her hand in greeting to some passing person she knew.

He smiled appreciatingly. She really was pretty. Erien, he thought he name was. He had seen her before now and again, but had never actually talked to her. She had always seemed so sweet to everyone around her. When he had first seen her walking this very same path home several days ago after leaving the palace late at night, he had been immediately infatuated with the girl. She had instantly become his latest focus of attention and before he even knew it, he was once again following another innocent young girl through the streets late at night. What surprised him though, was that it was so soon. It had only been a couple days since the last girl. He could usually wait several months or more before the urge to kill again took hold. He supposed it was because the last one had meant so little to him. She had only been a spur of the moment fling. Just another one of those base desires his father had always warned him about... He supposed that was why she really hadn’t meant anything to him and why he hadn’t felt full-filled with his last attack.

But Erien... Oh, she had held his attention now for more than several weeks and he was beginning to feel the familiar tug of that urge in the back of his mind. He was sure tonight would be the night. He felt he had followed and watched her from afar long enough. It was time to make his move. All he had to do was wait for the most opportune moment.

They walked this way for a time, weaving their way through the dwindling crowd of people walking the streets; her sometimes turning to veer down another street and him close behind. Following a distance behind, he couldn’t help but marvel how pretty the young servant girl really was. He was surprised he hadn’t taken notice of her before. He couldn’t wait until he made his move and claimed what, somewhere deep inside, felt unquestionably belonged to him. She had caught his eye, thus making her his. And he couldn’t wait to claim his property and make it so no one else could ever have what was his...

An evil, predatorial smirk pulled at his lips at the thought.

Becoming somewhat giddy with anticipation at such a thought, he began to softly hum under his breath a song he remembered from his early childhood. A simple tune his mother used to sing to him whenever she was happy and his father was not around to dampen that brief flicker of joy...

Gimli followed along silently as Legolas continued to slowly weave his way through the complex maze of winding streets, as if the elf somehow knew where he was going or was perhaps following someone else who did. The dwarf looked up at his companion worriedly. The elf hadn’t said anything since finding that small little alcove and falling deeper into whatever psychic vision it was that had currently taken hold of his mind.

As he looked up, he was startled to find a small, disturbing smile gracing Legolas’ lips as the elven prince continued to walk, his eyes unblinking and sharp as he stared ahead with his irises now darkened to an almost midnight shade of black. The elf’s unnerving grin widened for a brief moment as if thinking some darkly amusing thought before once again shrinking back into a small but ever-present smirk.

Gimli felt a small shiver course up the length of his spine. Legolas’ gaunt facial features had transformed into an expression he had never seen before on the gentle prince, something that made the dwarf feel distinctly ill at ease. It was the look of a hunter. A predator stalking his prey and enjoying every moment of the hunt. He swore he could almost feel the dark sense of anticipation radiating off the prince’s disconcerting smirk.

And then, Legolas began to hum. It was a low, flitting sound, like something from a children’s nursery song. But the sound of the happy tune coupled with that of the prince’s wicked looking smirk gave it an eerie feel, like the sound of a young child’s ghost singing in the moonlight of an empty graveyard.

He could feel the urge to hurt and kill growing stronger. In a way he was slightly frightened of his own desire to do let alone think such horrible thoughts such as the ones now swirling around in his head. But it was too much a part of him now. He had given in to his urges too many times before to control himself now.

He looked up ahead. The girl was turning another corner down into a slightly darkened side street. Perfect, he thought to himself. They had descended several levels of the white city by now. The air had grown chilly and cold. There were hardly any other people on the streets anymore, and the side street the girl had just gone down looked like a shortcut she knew most other people probably would have probably forgone in favor of one of the more populated main streets.

He smiled again. Now was the time. It was perfect. The girl was practically walking to her own doom. There was no one that could hear her anymore here. This part of the city was almost completely deserted now that most of the people had returned to their home in preparation of the coming night.

He turned down the street the girl had just disappeared. The girl was walking just up in the distance. Now was the time... It would probably even be several days before anyone even found her body. He doubted though they would know who she was whenever they did find her. Somehow whenever he finished playing with them they always seemed to somehow remind him of his mother. It was like he could see her face transposed over theirs as they lay there on the ground dead and lifeless, their empty eyes staring up at him as if in condemnation of his deeds. And then an odd sense of guilt and anger would wash over him. A momentarily pang of guilt from his conscious trying to comprehend what he had just done. But then an almost simultaneous rush of rage that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his soul.

They always reminded him of his mother, the woman that had abandoned him with his abusive father when he was still nothing but a little boy unable to protect himself from his father’s drunken rages. And filled with this rage he would attack the dead girl’s body, mutilating her face to rid himself of the damning image of his mother’s face staring back up at him from over the dead girl’s. It felt good to him, cleansing almost. It gave him an outlet for all the pent up rage he held for that one woman in his life he should have been able to love with all his soul but couldn’t because of his hurt and anger.

A part of him wished he could stop killing. But it was too late for that now. He couldn’t stop. He had to kill. It was like a need, an addiction now. And this girl, Erien, would be his next... There was just no way for him to stop now. Like the devil’s voice in the back of his mind, he felt his urge to kill growing stronger, urging him on.

And with that, he quickened his step, eager to catch up with his oblivious prey walking just up ahead in the distance...

Legolas found himself breathing hard and shaking as he was suddenly returned to his own body with a sudden severance of whatever psychic energy it was that had been holding him to his vision. He felt Gimli standing somewhere close beside him and holding his arm to help steady him as he blindly reached out for anything else to help steady himself with. His knees felt like they had been suddenly filled with jelly and his body suddenly drained of energy. Luckily though, a wall stood close beside him to his right which the elven prince immediately leaned against, gasping for air as he waited for the after effects of his vision to slowly fade.

As he finally began to become more aware of himself and the worried dwarf’s presence standing there beside him, Legolas could feel the wet chill of salty tears coating his cheeks. He suddenly realized his gasps for air for not from breathlessness, but from racking sobs that seemed to shake his entire form. Clutching the left side of his head, he leaned it against the cold stone wall beside him, glad for something strong and sturdy to steady himself against as another hitched sob escaped his lips.

“Legolas. Legolas, talk to me, elf,” Gimli begged, deeply troubled by his friend’s behavior, “What did you see, lad. You can tell me. What happened? What did you see? Is the girl alright? What did you see?”

At first Legolas could not find words to answer. Everything was still too fresh in his mind, too real. He could still hear the man’s thoughts ringing in his mind like some kind of ghostly echo, urging him to kill. He could still see Erien’s hair swishing behind her over her shoulders as she walked away from him down the very same street he now stood at, staring down its darkened length. How he got there, he couldn’t quite say. The last thing he actually remembered was standing in a small alcove just down the street from the servant’s back entrance to the palace.

“Legolas? Common, lad, answer me,” Gimli begged, beginning to shake the elf’s shoulder desperately for any kind of response.

Legolas felt another choked sob escape his tightened throat. “We’re too late...” he whispered almost inaudibly under his breathe as he struggled to form words, “I think we’re too late... He got her. He followed her. He was going to kill her. I could hear his thoughts in my head. He was going to kill her. He- he followed her through the streets and was going to kill her. Oh, Gimli, I think we’re too late!” he babbled hysterically as he felt himself slowly slide down against the wall to the cold hard ground, his withered legs unable to support him any longer. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him. It was like I was him. He was going to kill her...” he sobbed helplessly, “I couldn’t save her... We’re too late...”

“Legolas! Legolas, calm down,” the dwarf ordered, roughly grabbing hold of the elf’s boney shoulders and making him look up at him, “Legolas, I want you to calm yourself and breathe. And then I want you to tell me everything you saw. Slowly.”

Legolas reluctantly did as his friend told him to and took several deep, shaking breaths of air to calm his rapidly beating heart. Finally regaining some self-control, the elf began to slowly tell Gimli everything he had seen while in the grips of his psychic vision; from first seeing Erien leave the palace, to following her down the street, to finally following her down the darkened back street where he felt the whispered urge to kill growing louder and louder in his head before finally returning to himself to find he had unknowingly descended several levels of the city whilst in the grips of his psychic trance.

As Legolas finally finished his account, Gimli visibly frowned under his bushy beard. “That is not reassuring news...” he murmured ominously under his breathe. The elven prince said nothing but dejectedly stared down at the snowy ground with an empty look of failure in his eyes. “But that does not mean all hope is lost...” he then added, causing the blonde haired elf to look up at him inquiringly.

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked softly, the barest hint of hope shining in his weary blue eyes.

“Did you actually see him attack her?” the dwarf questioned instead, not really answering the elf’s question.

“No...” Legolas replied with a small shake of his head, “But he was about to. I could feel him and hear his thoughts in my head as if they were my own. He was going to kill her...”

“But that doesn’t mean he actually did it yet,” the dwarf cut off, looking hard into his friend’s tired, sapphire blue eyes, “You didn’t actually see him attack her, so there still might be time.”

Legolas stared at Gimli for a long moment of silence, comprehension finally dawning in a sudden burst of realization as to what his friend was trying to say. “We have to hurry, Gimli!” he cried, struggling to get back up onto his feet from when his legs had suddenly given out on him when he had come out of his trance, “We have to look for her! She might yet be alive!”

Legolas felt a small rush of renewed hope surge through his weary body. They had to hurry. It was a frail and fragile hope to hold onto that Erien might still somehow be alive given how long it had already taken them to get Aragorn after Legolas’ first vision, muster the guards, check the girl’s house, and then trace their way back from the Hall of Kings after leaving Aragorn to the spot they now stood, for it had already been several hours now since Legolas’ original vision. But it was a hope nonetheless. And Legolas was not about to let it go. It was all he had to hold onto.

Shakingly pulling himself to his feet, the elven prince looked down the darkened alley he and his dwarfish companion stood before. A yawning mouth seemed to stand before them, a gaping maw of darkness and shadow. Legolas felt a small stir of apprehension stir in his chest as he looked down the shadow-draped length of the alley. Some small part of him didn’t want to go in. But then he remembered that this was the way Erien had gone in his vision, the same way her killer had followed; and he knew he couldn’t go back. He had to find the girl; whether she be living... or dead...

Nervously glancing down at his friend, Legolas was able to find some small shred of reassurance in the small smile of offered strength Gimli gave him out of the corner of his mouth. Legolas nodded his head gratefully in silent thanks to the dwarf and his unwavering presence which had so faithfully stood by his side since first waking out of his coma all those months ago, and together the two started down the darkened back street. Neither said anything as they walked, the sound of their footsteps and the soft tap of Legolas’ cane echoing off the walls of the narrow street the only sound to break the oppressive silence that seemed to descend and wrap around them like a suffocating blanket.

It was now dark. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon to rest and wait for its time to once again rise in the east and begin its heavenly track across the sky the next morning. Dark shadows now stood everywhere like black sentinels, distorting and obscuring real from the unknown.

Legolas and Gimli followed the twisting dark path of the street for some time. Every so often Legolas would stop and search down the length of one of the numerous alleys that periodically branched off from the lonely stretch of street they traveled for any possible sign of the girl they searched for. But for every street the elven prince searched, he was met with failure. Only shadows and the festering smell of refuse and garbage did he find in those empty alleys. Desperation steadily began to grow as they followed the street lower into the quiet city in this fashion. Before long, the winding back street finally spilled out into one of the larger streets of the city which itself feed into the main thoroughfare of Gondor’s capital further down the way.

The blonde haired prince shared a half-relieved, half-panicked look with his stout companion. There hadn’t been any sign of Erien anywhere in the back street they had just searched. Legolas wasn’t sure if he should count this as a blessing or cause for more worry.

There was no other way the girl could have gone if she had actually taken the route he had seen her take in his vision. There were nothing but dead end alleys between there and where he and his friend now stood. And he had just checked every alley he had come across for any sign of the missing servant girl. But nothing...

Legolas looked down either side of the street he now stood in helplessly. He doubted Erien’s stalker would have attacked her in this area. It was too populated to attack and kill someone without being noticed or heard by someone else. But he had just checked all the places the killer could have possibly attacked her! Could he have attacked her someplace else? Could his vision have somehow been wrong? Could she still be alive somewhere and being stalked by her perspective killer?

Legolas didn’t know and could feel the dark twinge of doubt and uncertainty begin to pull at the edge of his self-confidence and assuredness of his own powers of second-sight. Could he have somehow been wrong...?

“Gimli, where could she be?” he implored helplessly, frantically looking down at his friend as if the dwarf might actually somehow hold the answer to such an ominous question.

The dwarf, unfortunately, was unable to offer his friend any such help and could only shake his head in defeat. “I don’t know, elf. I’m not the one with psychic powers.”

Legolas once again looked down either side of the empty street. It was like he could actually feel the passage of time slipping around him now, impressing upon him the shortness of how much time that really was. Something deep inside him told him he needed to find Erien now.

Torn by indecision, the elf hurriedly glanced down either side of the empty street before finally settling on the left for lack of a better choice and began to hurriedly limp his way down the darkened street. He had to find Erien. Even if that meant he had to search every street in the entire city. He had to find her...

He was almost ready to speed off into the deepening night with his dwarven companion close beside him when a sudden shout behind them brought the elven prince to an abrupt halt. Turning back, Legolas spotted a young boy running towards them from the road down the way that branched off from the main thoroughfare of the city. The boy’s face was a mixture of relief and urgent panic.

“Prince Legolas! Lord Gimli!” he called breathlessly, coming to a skittering stop in front of the two, “My lords, I have been searching for you for almost an hour now. Lord Elessar said I would find you in the palace, but when I went there to find you, no one there said they had seen you return from your earlier excursion out into the city with the king. I have been searching for you since.”

“Elessar sent you?” Legolas repeated, his stomach twisting with some unspeakable dread as he turned to fully face the boy, “What did he tell you? What did he say?” he demanded, all but reaching out to grab the boy by the shoulders and shake the answers to his near half-hysterical questions out of him.

Startled by the usually calm and reserved prince’s reaction, the boy stammered for response. “He- he said he requires your presence in the servant girl Erien’s house immediately. He says it is urgent...”

A wild, frantic look entered Legolas’ eyes. “Did he say anything else? Did he say if he found the girl yet?”

“I am sorry, my lord, he did not reveal any such information to me. He only sent me to retrieve you,” the messenger boy replied regretfully with a small shake of his head.

Legolas looked down at his dwarven companion and shared a long, frightened look with him. Without saying a word, the elven prince suddenly pushed his way past the still slightly bewildered messenger and took off down the street, his cane barely able to keep up with his frantically limping pace. He thought he might have heard Gimli call after him to wait up, but he didn’t stop to see if he actually had or not.

All he could think about was Erien and Aragorn’s ominous message. Had they found the girl? Was she alright? Was she alive? Was she safe? Or was the real meaning behind Aragorn’s message even worse? Was Erien dead?

These thoughts and a million others spun through Legolas’ head like a relentless storm of worry and fear as he pushed his withered and weary body ever onwards towards the young servant girl’s house.

It was as Legolas was racing down the last few blocks before the missing girl’s house that Gimli finally managed to catch up with the frantically jogging elf. He said nothing as he took his place beside his friend, but did shoot a distinctly worried glance up at the elven prince’s face.

Finally reaching the intersection of Erien’s street, the elf and dwarf veered down the lonely side street. Though it was the exact same path they had traveled earlier that day with Aragorn to Erien’s house, the street looked disconcertingly different. The street was now dark and wreathed in shadows, obscuring anything even remotely familiar to the two. Their hurried footsteps reverberated against the walls of the surrounding buildings and echoed down the quite empty streets like the sound of a hundred dwarves pounding away at the anvil in an empty cave before finally fading away into the distance.

As Legolas struggled to keep his already tired legs up under him and moving, up in the distance, he suddenly spotted the soft, flickering glow of torch light filling the street. Legolas’ stomach immediately clenched with dread as he came closer and saw that the light came from a small group of half a dozen White Guards huddled together in the street in front of a house that Legolas knew could only belong to one person. Pushing even more effort into his now screaming leg muscles, the elf hurried towards the group of huddled guards.

The guards solemnly looked up at Legolas as he and Gimli finally reached them and momentarily paused just on the outskirts of the flickering ring of light cast by the guards’ torches, breathing hard and silently questioning the men with desperate, inquiring gazes. The guards said nothing and only stared back at the elf and dwarf, their eyes filled with some unreadable emotion and their faces grave. Legolas felt his heart instantly clench with the sense of evil foreboding at the sight of the guards’ solemn, silent expressions.

No... Please no...

Doing everything he could to control the rush of panic and fear that seemed to surge up from the very bottom of his heart to choke and gag him like a nauseating bile of emotions and dread, the elven prince began to forcefully push his way through the group of guards blocking the door of the small stone house.

No... No, please. No... his thoughts desperately churned, sickening him to the core with worry and dread unlike anything he had ever felt before in all his long years.

Finally pushing his way through the amassed group of guards, the elf flung himself at the door, using his own weight as a battering ram as he viciously turned the door nob and pushed it inwards. Legolas spilled into the house, stumbling slightly before finally managing to catch himself and stand. His head instantly swivelled around on the base of his neck, frantically searching the room in which he now stood for any sign of Aragorn or anything else that could dispel the one fear pounding in his ears with every thundering beat of his heart.

What he saw though as his eyes finally came to rest on the far left corner of the room where a roaring fire now burned in the hearth, bathing the room in a bright flickering glow as it hungrily feasted on the thick wooden log sitting in its fiery belly, instantly froze Legolas to the spot. He might have gasped in shock or surprise, but that tiny emission of sound seemed to have been strangled off somewhere deep inside his throat. All he could do was stare.

Looking up at the dumbfounded elf standing there frozen in the doorway of the house from the large wooden table that dominated that whole left side of the room sat Aragorn, the king of Gondor, staring back at Legolas with solemn grey eyes. Beside him also sat Faramir, the man’s face filled with some unreadable emotion. Milling about the room stood several White Guards of the Citadel, the fire light flashing across their polished armor as they turned to look back at the elf that had just so startlingly crashed through the door into their midst.

But they were not the real reason for Legolas’ speechlessness, nor the look of confused disbelief written into every corner of his deathly-pale gaunt face.

For sitting there between Aragorn and Faramir at the large wooden table sat the young servant girl Erien, very much alive and well, though looking quite decidedly bewildered by the presence of her king and steward sitting there beside her at her humble kitchen table with half a dozen white guards of the city filling her house and another half dozen just outside her door.

Legolas could not seem to make his mind comprehend the sight of the girl he had just been all but sure was dead safely sitting there between his friends. All he could do was stare, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

Erien slowly looked up at the stunned elf standing there in the doorway of her house, her bright blue eyes swimming with confusion. “My lord...” she stammered softly, “I- I don’t understand... What’s going on?”

But all Legolas could do was stare, unable to understand how the girl he saw before him – the same girl he had seen followed down the streets by her murderer in a vivid psychic vision – could actually be there sitting alive and well, looking up at him as though he were crazy...

******

To Be Continued...

******

Well, Erien’s alive! Aren’t you happy? But this new turn of events now rises one of two questions. Was Legolas somehow wrong with his psychic vison? Or, if he wasn’t, then how did Erien manage to escape her killer? Hmmm... questions questions... I guess we’ll have to wait and see for the answers to these questions and more next time.

Well, did you like it? Hate it? Please tell me!

‘Till next time!