Contrary to popular belief, I am not dead! Ha, sorry. Yeah, life’s been kind of hectic lately... I bet a lot of you thought I had dropped off the face of the planet for a while there, didn’t you? Well, anyway, I’m finally back with a damn long chapter to try and make up for my long absence in the fanfictioning world for the past few weeks. Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter. Hope you like the new one.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien and do not belong to me, nor are they being used for profit in the telling of the this story. Stephen King also gets credit for the wonderful inspiration for this story from his book ‘the Dead Zone’

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Legolas stared up at the man standing over him in utter terror. “You...” he whispered in horrified disbelief, unable to believe the horrible truth he now knew. Harberd was the killer. He was the one they had been searching for this entire time. A White Guard of the Citadel! No wonder they had never caught him before! He was one of the elite guards of the city. No one would have ever suspected that one of the men entrusted with the very protection of the city could have ever been the very killer they searched for. The revelation of it all made Legolas’ head spin.

But despite his shock, he couldn’t deny what he had seen. When Harberd had grabbed him to stop his fall, he had seen in a brilliant flash of white light and following barrage of mental images the faces of all the young girls ever killed by the man standing in front of him. He had seen, as if through Harberd’s eyes, himself following them down darkened streets and attacking them in the dark. Strangling them as they fought for air and desperately clawed at his hands for escape. He had seen their faces, seen the look of terror and fear in their eyes as he watched their lips slowly turn blue and felt the racing pulse beneath his hands slowly weaken and then finally fade away as he strangled away the last bit of air from their lungs. He had seen their faces and knew what other horrors they had suffered before finally slipping away into darkness.

“You... H- how could you..?” Legolas whispered as though still trying to somehow find a way for this not to be real. “How could you kill them?” His mind seemed unable to comprehend the truth of the matter, the horror of it.

Close behind him, Legolas heard a soft gasp come from Gimli, the dwarf only now beginning to understand what was happening and what Legolas must have seen in his sudden psychic vision.

Harberd however did not seem at all surprised by the elf’s sudden revelation. “I knew you’d see,” was all he said in a low, even voice as he stood dispassionately staring down at the elf laying prostrate on the ground before him. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone finally found out it was me...” He stared down at Legolas with an empty expression, his face like that of a dead man’s bathed in the eerie silver-blue glow of the moon. “I wanted you to see,” he said, slowly taking a step closer to the downed elf, “That’s why I agreed to lead you and brought you here. I needed someone else to know. And I knew you’d see...”

Legolas seemed to finally regain some of his wit from the startling revelation of his psychic vision at these words and stared back up at the man hovering over him, his eyes hard and filled with a sudden smoldering fire. “And now that I finally know your dirty little secret, what do you plan to do?” he asked, unafraid and antagonistic as he stared up at the man with fiery blue eyes. “You will never get away with this. You will pay for your crimes. What you did is unforgivable. You will hang for what you’ve done! And I will be the one that sees to it that that is exactly what is done with you!” he exclaimed, anger quickly raising up in his voice as he spoke. It was as if now that Legolas finally had a face to go with all the degradation and horror he had suffered and lived with since his horrific vision in the House of Healing all those days ago, the elven prince felt his blood begin to course like molten fire through his veins, and all the helpless anger he still held inside from the terrifying experience come rushing up to the surface like a great wave of water freed from the confines of some great emotional dam.

Harberd however did not look at all impressed by the elven prince’s vehement declaration of retribution and justice and only sadly shook his head. “You probably would like to see me hang for what I’ve done...” he said in a low, sorry voice, “But unfortunately, I cannot just let you go off and tell my king what I’ve done... I may have wanted someone else to know my secret, but that doesn’t mean I wanted them to tell anyone else...” he said, starting to slowly move towards Legolas until he stood right over the helpless elf. As he spoke, the man slowly reached across his waist and grabbed the hilt of his sword before languidly drawing it from its sheath with a long, draw out hiss of scrapping metal. The blade gleamed cold and deadly in the moonlight as the man held it threateningly up in the air over the elven prince like a sharpened club.

Legolas’ eyes widened in fear. “Wait! How are you going to explain what happened to us if we’re found dead without you somehow becoming suspect. They will know you killed us!”

“Probably...” the man agreed softly, “But by the time anyone finds you, I will already be gone...”

With that said, Harberd then flipped the sword over in his hands so that its tip pointed straight down over Legolas’ heart, and raised the weapon up over his head to deliver the final strike that would forever silence the only living witness he had to all his horrible crimes. “I’m sorry,” he then softly whispered before finally bringing his sword down in one great lunge of force.

Legolas watched in horror as he saw the sword begin its final descent, the deadly blade slicing down through the air towards his unprotected chest. In that single moment, it suddenly seemed like the entire world had slowed to an agonizing crawl and that time was standing still as he watched his own death come rushing down towards him as if in slow motion. His warrior instincts screamed at him to move, to dodge the deadly weapon descending on him. But Legolas knew it would only be a futile attempt. Even if he had been in top form and condition at that moment, he doubted he would have been able to dodge the deadly object. The man was just too close and the blade falling too fast. He was tired and his body weak from his latest vision. He was helpless to defend himself.

As Legolas watched the sword slowly cut through the air in its downward arch, he suddenly realized he had failed in his mission to stop the killer. That if he died then no one else would ever know of Harberd’s crimes and that he would be free to escape and kill again.

But just when Legolas was almost certain he was lost, he felt the strong presence at his back suddenly disappear and saw a sliver blur of movement sweep in from the right side of his line of vision to cleave a horizontal arch over his head, catching the falling sword in its deadly path and knocking it harmlessly away from him to the side.

“Just hold it right there, murderer,” a deep voice growled from behind Legolas.

Looking back over his shoulder, the downed archer saw possibly the most welcome sight in all the world at that moment meet his eyes: Gimli standing there barely half a pace behind him with his mighty axe held high over his shoulder as if ready to cleave the head off of anyone foolish enough to cross him.

Harberd stared at the stout little miner, disbelief and amazement shining clearly in his pale grey eyes at the dwarf’s unforeseen rescue of his elven friend. He had barely even seen Gimli jump to his feet and whip his axe out over his friend in a wide arch before he had suddenly found his sword forcefully deflected to the side and almost knocked right out of his hands by the sheer power of the dwarf’s defending blow.

Gimli seemed to read the surprise in the man’s expression and explained saying, “Nobody hurts the elf while I’m around...”

“So it would seem...” Harberd replied, the first hint of annoyed anger beginning to creep up into his otherwise emotionless voice as he carefully stepped away from the guarded elf and began to slowly circle around him. “But how will you defend him next time after you are dead?” And with no warning at all, the man lunged at the dwarf, his sword raised up over his shoulder to deliver a fatal blow.

But Gimli saw the attack coming a mile away and quickly leapt to the side away from his downed friend and caught the blade against the double-sided head of his axe. The deafening crash of metal against metal rang out down the silent streets around them and faded away into the night before it was then quickly followed by another. And another. And another...

As the man and dwarf continued to circle and trade blow after bone rattling blow with one another, Legolas sat there forgotten on the icy ground in an almost shell-shocked daze, watching the two fight barely even half a dozen paces away from him as though still trying to decide whether or not what was happening was really real or just some sort of crazy nightmare.

But as another resounding crash of metal against metal echoed out through the chilly night air and startled the dazed elven prince back into the present, Legolas suddenly knew without a doubt what he was seeing was real.

Gimli, he could tell, was trying to draw Harberd away from him. He could tell by the way the dwarf kept constantly dodging and pressing his own attacks back on the man in the opposite direction of where Legolas still sat helplessly watching them from the ground. But the seemingly simple maneuver was proving somewhat difficult for the stout little miner to actually accomplish. For Harberd seemed to have also picked up on Gimli’s attempt to put more distance between themselves and the downed elf, and refused to let himself play into Gimli’s little ploy.

For whenever Gimli tried to maneuver himself in between Harberd and Legolas, the man would immediately spin and counter the dwarf’s attack with one of his own so that neither one could truly gain an advantage over the other.

Watching Gimli continue to fight the murderous guard in a battle of deadly swordplay, Legolas weakly pulled himself up onto his knees, desperate to rise and go to his friend’s aid. He couldn’t just sit there and watch his friend fight by himself anymore. He had to help!

But as the elven prince tried to force himself up onto his withered legs, he felt his knees immediately go out from under him, sending him crashing back down onto the icy ground on his hands and knees. Lightheaded and senses spinning, Legolas nevertheless tried to rise to his feet again, but was once again met with failure. Panting for breath, Legolas sat there in defeat, too weak to rise by himself. It felt like his entire body was filled with lead. Though he did not want to admit it, he knew his latest vision had weakened him more than any other vision he had ever experienced before.

Unable to go to his friend’s aid, Legolas was helpless to do anything else but sit there and watch as Gimli blocked yet another of the man’s strikes and spun around on his heels to deliver a blow of his own. The two fought each other viciously, neither willing to back down from the other. But as Legolas continued to watch in growing horror he saw Harberd begin to gradually gain the upper hand.

Though Gimli was a strong and highly skilled warriors by anyone’s standards, there was no denying that the dwarf was outsized by the considerably taller man and slowly being overpowered. The man was light and fast, and seemed to literally dance across the ground as quick and agile as a cat as he fought against his opponent. Despite all the strengths and skills Gimli might have boasted about, agility and quick footwork were not some of those generally gifted onto those of the stouter race of dwarfs.

With each new blow Gimli seemed to be driven a little more back onto the defensive and a little closer to the elven prince as though Harberd was trying to somehow hew them in closer together so that when he made his final move he could easily dispose of them both without hardly wasting any time in between. It was the logic of a trained killer and made Legolas’ blood run cold.

They were now only half a dozen feet away from his sat.

Gimli valiantly tried to defend himself against the almost constant rain of blows coming down on him from the other man. But despite everything he tried to do to counter attack and go back onto the offensive with, Harberd seemed to anticipate and effectively neutralize before the dwarf could follow through on his attack.

And then, just when Legolas’ fears for his friend’s ability to win this fight began to worsen, Harberd suddenly gained the upper hand.

As Gimli attacked at him with a powerful swing of his axe to his midsection, the man quickly spun away to the side out of way of the dwarf’s weapon, leaving Gimli’s axe with nothing to cleave except empty air. Unable to stop the forward momentum of his attack, Gimli was forced to follow through with his swing, leaving his one side open to attack. As Gimli struggled to recover from his fruitless attempt at an attack, Harberd immediately seized the opportunity and caught the dwarf’s axe with the edge of his sword and pushed forward in the direction of Gimli’s already falling momentum, effectively throwing the dwarf even more off balance and sending him scrambling to catch himself before he fell.

Unfortunately though, Gimli was unable to keep his footing on the slippery cobblestones of the ice covered ground and collapsed down onto one knee with his back to Legolas.

The elven prince stared in horror as he watched Harberd then slowly come to stand behind his incapacitated friend like a towering, shadow wreathed wraith and raise his sword up over his shoulder to deliver the final deadly blow.

“Gimli!” Without any conscious thought guiding his actions, Legolas reached for his fallen cane laying there on the ground not far from him and grabbing it, swung it with all the power he possessed into the backs of the killer’s knees.

Harberd screamed out in pain and surprise as he felt his knees suddenly knocked out from under him and stumbled forward in a vain attempt to catch himself. Unfortunately though for him, by that time Gimli had finally recovered from his earlier fall and leapt to his feet to face his would-be killer. Swinging his axe, the dwarf caught the falling man’s sword and knocked it from his hands, sending it clattering away across the icy, snow covered ground while also managing to deliver a descent sized cut across the man’s upper arm as he fell past him.

Crying out loudly in pain, the man fell to the ground. Clutching his bleeding arm with his hand Harberd quickly rolled onto his back just in time to see the angry dwarf step forward to tower over him where he now lay wounded and weaponless on the ground at his feet.

“Funny how things can get changed around on you so fast like that...” Gimli noted sardonically as he stared down at the fallen guard with unconcealed disdain.

“So it would seem...” Harberd replied icily, staring up at the dwarf with equal contempt burning in his eyes, “But what you do not seem to understand is that when you are in possession of the more powerful position, you should use it to your fullest advantage while you still can...” And with no other warning, the man brutally lashed out and kicked Gimli in the gut with the heel of his boot. Hard.

Gimli instantly doubled over and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach and howling in agony and rage. Not wasting a moment, Harberd was rolling away from the downed dwarf and staggering back up onto his feet, all the while still holding his injured arm.

“Gimli!” Legolas screamed but was unable to go to his friend’s aid.

“You can’t stop me,” Harberd said as he slowly backed away from the downed elf and dwarf, his eyes bright and shining with something akin to the first visible signs of madness in the pale glow of moonlight overhead. “You can never stop me. You can tell whoever you want I killed those girls, but you’ll never actually stop me...” And with that, the man then turned and fled away into the night, disappearing like a wraith down the empty, shadow-draped street.

“Cowardly treacherous murderer!” Gimli howled in rage and spat after the fleeing man as he forced himself to straighten and stand from off the frozen ground. “I will hunt you down to the very ends of the earth if that is what it takes me, and part your head from its shoulders!” He then gingerly bent down at the knees to retrieve his fallen axe, still wincing in pain from the sharp kick he received to the stomach. With his axe now in hand, the dwarf began to stagger off in the direction the man had just disappeared, his mind blinded by rage to almost everything else around him except the single-minded action of him pursuing after the escaping criminal.

But the dwarf’s rage was instantly forgotten at the sound of a weak and plaintive voice calling out to him from behind.

“Gimli!” Legolas cried, still trying to desperately rise to his feet half a dozen feet behind the stout, axe-wielding warrior. “Gimli!” he again implored as his exhausted body was once again met with failure and he crashed back down onto the ground with a weak moan of pain.

The dwarf was immediately there at his friend’s side. “Legolas, are you alright?” he asked, worriedly stooping down over the elven prince’s frail body.

“Just help me up,” the elf instead answered.

Gimli did as he was asked and gently helped Legolas pull himself back up onto his feet. The elf wavered dangerously for a moment, his legs weak and vision swimming with vertigo. He desperately clung to his cane and Gimli’s arm as he waited for the dizziness to pass. His legs shook beneath him like thin supports of jelly, but he willed himself to remain upright.

“We need to get you back to the palace,” Gimli said as he watched Legolas struggle to recover himself, all previous thoughts of chasing after the escaping killer gone from his mind. “You’re weak from that vision you had when you touched that man. You need a healer.”

“No... We need to stop Harberd... Before he gets away...” Legolas said, weakly shaking his head. “You have to go warn Aragorn. Tell him he needs to block all the exits to the city and alert the guards. We can’t let him get out of Minas Tirith or we’ll never catch him.”

“And what about you, elf?” Gimli then asked, noticing how Legolas had not included himself in any of his plans of warning Aragorn, “What do you plan to do?”

Legolas slowly looked down the darkened street in the direction Harberd had just disappeared. “I’m going after him...” he softly whispered in grim determination.

“Like hell you are!” the dwarf exclaimed, “You are in no shape to go chasing off after some crazed killer. You need a healer! We’ll go back to the palace together and warn Aragorn and then–”

“No, Gimli! I’m not going to go back to the palace!” Legolas angrily shouted, “If one of us doesn’t go after Harberd now, he’s going to get away. And I can’t let him do that!” Breaking off sharply, the elven prince quickly looked down at the ground and took several deep, calming breaths to collect himself from his sudden outburst. After a minute, he slowly raised his eyes back up to meet those of his worried friend and held Gimli’s gaze with a strong and steady stare. “Gimli, I have to do this,” he said more slowly and calm, “You can get back to the palace and warn Aragorn faster than I can. I’ll find Harberd and stall him until you come with the others. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I won’t let him get away,” he said with total confidence as he reached down and pat his hip where his twin long knives hung down by his side. “I can take care of myself,” he slowly repeated as he stared down into his friend’s chocolate brown eyes, as if trying to convince the dwarf of what he was already sure.

Gimli however still looked torn by indecision whether or not to let his friend go off and face whatever unknown dangers lay ahead of him if he let him go. But with one look into the elf’s liquid blue eyes, the dwarf suddenly knew he couldn’t stop his friend and that he had to let Legolas go. Nothing was going to stop Legolas from going after this man. Nodding slowly, the dwarf motioned down the darkened street. “Then you better hurry, elf. Before he gets away. I’ll try and bring Aragorn as fast as I can. Just don’t get yourself killed before I get back,” he said, trying to hide his lingering ill-ease for the elf’s plan behind a facade of indifferent acceptance.

Legolas smiled fondly down at his long time companion and friend. “Don’t worry, Gimli,” he assured softly, “There aren’t going to be any deaths here tonight on account of this man’s evil. Enough innocent people have already lost their lives to him. Tonight he will finally be stopped...”

If only Legolas knew how wrong he really was...

Gimli, however, did not know this and only nodded his head in acceptance to the elf’s ominous proclamation. “Be careful then,” he said, turning in the direction he knew the Citadel stood somewhere high above them, and with one last hesitant, parting glance at Legolas, disappeared into the night.

The elf stood for a long moment of silence staring after his friend, lost in the heavy stillness of the night that was left in the wake of the dwarf’s departure. But with a quick shake of his head, Legolas was brought back to the present and the urgent situation at hand. With burning determination and resolve in his eyes, the elven prince looked back down the darkened street the murderous guard had just disappeared.

As he had told Gimli, tonight would be the end of Harberd’s reign of terror. Tonight he would finally be stopped.

Gripping the head of his cane tightly, Legolas broke into a fast limping jog, pushing his tired and aching leg muscles to move as fast as they could go. He had to catch up to Harberd before he got too far ahead of him and he lost him. Though he did not want to admit it, he knew he might already be too late. The man already had a several minutes head start on him, and Harberd was not suffering from exhaustion or the lingering after-effects of a five year long coma on his body. He could easily already be in another level of the city by now. How was he suppose to catch up to the man when Harberd could run more that twice as fast as him?

Legolas, however, pushed the thought from his mind and forced more effort into his already weak and stumbling legs. He refused to admit defeat or be discouraged from his task before he had even started. He had to find Harberd. And find him he would. Even if it was the last thing he did...

Legolas ran down the dark and empty street blindly not quite sure where he was heading or where the man could have gone but somehow knowing he was going in the right direction. Something deep inside him told him this was the way he needed to go. But as he continued following the street’s winding course, he suddenly came upon a split in the road in which the street divided and branched off into two completely separate directions.

Legolas slowly drew himself back from his limping jog and came to a stop in front of the forked intersection, his breathing labored and billowing like great plumes of dragon’s breath into the frosty winter air. Weakly leaning down over his cane to catch his breath and recover some of his strength from his exhausting chase after the elusive killer thus far, the elven prince frantically looked down either darkened street, torn by indecision and building panic.

Which way did he go?! Legolas’ mind wailed in distress. So far, there hadn’t been any other streets Harberd could have veered off on from the main one he had taken when he had fled from Legolas and Gimli. But now faced with two possible tracks the fleeing criminal could have taken, Legolas felt his stomach twist in dread. No no no! I can’t lose him now or he’ll get away!

But just as the elven prince was about to give into panic and leave his choice of streets up to chance, he happened to notice a series of darkened impressions running along the ground and marring the otherwise untouched blanket of freshly fallen snow several feet to the left of where he stood. Taking a few steps closer to examine the strange markings, Legolas’ breath momentarily caught in his throat at the realization that what he was looking at were the unmistakable impressions of footsteps in the snow.

Of course... he mentally berated himself. It had been snowing off and on all day. He should have known to look for such signs of the man’s passage before when he had first taken off after Harberd. After all, he was a trained warrior from the woodland realm of Mirkwood and should have thought to employ such a painfully simple form of tracking before. He could only blame his inattentiveness of spotting the footprints sooner was because of his almost frantic need to catch up and stop the escaping killer.

Thank the Valar at least it is winter... he had to silently thank the gods for small favors as he quickly stood back up straight and took off down the left hand street in a hurried, limping jog.

Forcing his now burning and straining legs to carry him, the elven prince followed the trail of footprints through a twisting, winding maze of darkened street. Up one street and down another, Legolas soon lost all sense of direction until he had nothing to rely on except the trail of impacted snow to guide him in his chase of the elusive killer.

Legolas could feel himself beginning to weaken. With every step he took, it felt as if a little bit more of his energy and strength was being leeched from his body. Though he valiantly fought to ignore the gnawing pull of weariness and exhaustion on his already tired and hurting body, the elf could feel his legs beginning to grow gradually more heavy and less willing to obey his commands to push on. His limping jog had started to become nothing more than a lurching, hobbled stumble, his lame left leg now dragging behind him across the ground so badly that his path in the snow was no longer a distinguishable trail of light, elven footprints next to those of the heavier man’s, but rather a torn up track of powdery white snow as if a plow was being pulled behind the struggling elf.

The man’s trail of footprints seemed to stretch on forever into the darkness with no end in sight. Every time Legolas turned another corner hoping to finally catch sight of the escaping criminal he was only meet with another dark and empty street and long track of lifeless footprints.

As the elf followed the trail down yet another empty street, he began to feel his desperation to find the elusive killer grow. What if he couldn’t catch up to Harberd? What if the man managed to get out of the city before he could find him and stall him until the alarm could be raised? They would never be able to catch him if such a thing happened. Harberd would escape and never be brought to justice for all the terrible crimes he committed. He couldn’t let that happen! He had to find him!

But just as Legolas thought this, he suddenly felt his left toe catch against the top of a rock he had not seen there laying hidden in his path beneath a thin blanket of freshly fallen snow. The elf stumbled wildly for a moment, his right arm spinning circles in the air as he struggled to regain his center of balance, and managed to catch himself before he fell. Stopping to compose himself from his near disastrous fall, the elven prince collapsed down over the top of his cane, weakly swaying from side to side as he willed his shaking, exhausted body to remain standing while his painfully thin chest heaved for breath. How much he wanted at that moment to just lay down and rest his tired, aching body. To let himself slip away into sleep and leave all the pain and suffering of the waking world behind even if for only a few moments.

But as tempting as the thought of rest sounded to him right then, he knew if he gave into his body’s yearning call he probably would not be able to rise again and fulfill his task of tracking the escaping killer.

No! You have to go on! You can’t rest yet! You have to stop Harberd! You can’t let him get away! Legolas mentally coached himself, trying to somehow reach his inner warrior and find the strength and determination he needed to push on despite the weakness and exhaustion racking his already tired and hurting body. Remember the girls he’s killed and what they suffered before they died...

This seemed to finally spark the elf’s inner fire and gave him the strength he needed to rise and continue on with his mission. He couldn’t let this man get away. He had to stop him...

Forcing his throbbing legs back into motion, the elven prince sped away down the shadow-draped street like a bloodhound on the hunt, determination and resolve now burning like fire in his sapphire blue eyes. He would find Harberd... Even if it was the last thing he did...

For several more minutes he followed the trail of heavy footprints through the twisting labyrinth of darkened streets and looming building before he suddenly saw up in the distance the man’s trail come to an abrupt and sudden end. Hurrying towards it, Legolas came to a stop in front of a dark and rundown looking house with its front door hanging open several inches as if someone had forgotten to close it all the way behind them when they had entered.

Looking down at the snow covered ground to confirm his already growing suspicions, Legolas saw the man’s footprints veer off towards the building’s front doorway and disappear just before the house’s darkened threshold. With a cautious glance up at the building’s dark, dirt-streaked windows, Legolas slowly approached the house’s open door and tentatively nudged it open with a soft creak of rusty hinges to let the soft glow of silver moonlight behind him spill into the almost pitch black room beyond.

Needing only a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, Legolas was quickly able to make out the faint outlines of the room’s contents. An old, weathered table with several rickety looking chairs scattered around it stood in one corner of the room near a cold and empty fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in days despite the wintery temperatures outside and icy chill inside. Barely any other furniture filled the room except for a small kitchen area on the other side of the room. But even that was covered in a fine layer of dust and cobwebs that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages.

Legolas slowly scanned the room. There was no sign of Harberd or anyone else there. Taking another cautious step into the dingy, rundown house, Legolas slowly made his way across the dust covered floor towards a darkened hallway on the other side of the room. As he peered around the corner, he saw the soft, flickering glow of candlelight spilling out into the hallway from some unseen room further back in the depths of the dilapidated house.

But that was not what really caught Legolas’ attention. No. Not only did the elven prince see candlelight, which in of itself was a sign that someone had been in the house recently, but he also heard the muffled sound of movement coming from one of the house’s backrooms. Silently slipping into the darkened corridor, Legolas slowly made his way towards the flickering glow of candlelight.

As he came to the end of the short hallway, the elf pressed himself to one side of the corridor and cautiously peered around the corner into a small, brightly lit room. What he saw there made his pulse race a little faster through his veins and his lungs momentarily forget how to breathe.

He had finally caught up to Harberd.

The man was hurriedly running around the room grabbing things and shoving them into an old leather traveling bag that looked like it had definitely seen better days. Whatever Harberd did not seem to deem worthy enough to add to the contents of the weather-worn bag, he merely knocked aside out of his way to the ground in his haste to pack. The room was already half torn apart, and the dusty floor strewn with discarded items and loose parchments as if some great storm had blown through and turned it on end. On a massive table in the center of the room burned several candles which lit the room in a soft glowing light and sent dark, elongated shadows dancing across the walls as Harberd bustled about it shoving things into his already overstuffed bag.

“Going somewhere?” Legolas asked almost casually as he finally stepped out of his hiding place in the hallway and came to stand there framed in the narrow doorway of the room like the image of some fell and ancient god of retribution.

Harberd visibly jumped at the sound of the elf’s voice and whirled around in surprise to stare at his unexpected visitor. But the man’s surprise at Legolas’ sudden appearance did not last for long. For as quick as the drop of the sword, the man’s startled face morphed into that of annoyed disdain. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon, prince,” he said in a level voice as he warily eyed the blonde haired elf, “I expected you to still be lying on the ground somewhere with that overprotective dwarf standing over you...”

Legolas bristled slightly at the brusque mention of his friend, but quickly pushed the feeling aside. “Gimli is seeing to other matters right now...” he replied smoothly, his piercing blue eyes never leaving those of the known murder, “But that doesn’t mean you and I still don’t have unfinished business of our own to attend to...”

“I see...” the man nodded thoughtfully in feigned indifference, “Might I ask how you found my house?” he then casually asked as he finished stuffing a small roll of parchment he had previously been in the process of putting into his bag right before the elf had so suddenly made his presence known.

“Let’s just say I have other ways of knowing besides just those of second-sight...” Legolas replied with the barest hint of contemptuous sarcasm towards the murderous guard. “But you still haven’t answered my question from before, Harberd...” he then said in a low and dangerous voice, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Harberd narrowed his eyes at the elven prince in benign amusement. “I thought that would almost be obvious...” he said, “Too many people know about my secret now for me to stay in Minas Tirith any longer. I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not. You’re not going anywhere,” Legolas said as he slowly stepped into the room to face the cornered killer with vengeful fire burning in his eyes, “The crimes you’ve committed are unforgivable. You will pay for the horrors you’ve inflicted. There is no way for you to escape now. I won’t let you. Tonight I will finally put an end to your killing spree and see that the souls of all those innocent girls you murdered finally find justice.”

Harberd let out a low and mirthless chuckle. “I was going to let you live after that dwarf saved you,” he said as he and the elven prince both began to slowly circle the massive table of the room, their eyes never leaving the other, “But now that you’ve come after me, practically looking for your own death, I can’t guarantee any more such mercy from me. I’m not going to let you stop me. Not you. Not anyone.”

“I just want to know how you could do it,” Legolas said, unperturbed by the man’s threats as they slowly circled the large wooden table across from each other, “How could you choke the life out of so many innocent girls and still be able to sleep at night? How could you rape them and still stand to look at yourself in the mirror? You are nothing but an animal driven by its own lust and base desires. A monster for finding such sick pleasure in the defiling of others!”

“Don’t you dare speak to me as if you presume to know who I am!” Harberd shouted back, true anger beginning to rise up in his voice, “You know nothing about me or what I’ve been through in my life to make such bold and self-righteous statements!”

“Oh and I suppose now you’re going to try and blame your mother for making you into the rapist murderer you are, is that it?” Legolas spat, his sapphire blue eyes flashing dangerously in the low candlelight of the room. Harberd seemed momentarily taken aback by this and stared at the elf as if trying to decide how much more the elven prince might know. “Oh, I know all about your mother,” he explained, reading the surprise and apprehension in the man’s eyes at his sudden revelation, “I know how she left you and your father. I know how you blame her for leaving you with him when you were still so young. Why you hate her for not taking you with her. Why you can’t look at another woman without somehow being reminded of her...”

“Shut up!” Harberd screamed, “You know nothing about what it’s like not to have a mother. What it’s like not to be wanted or loved. I bet your mother never abandoned you or left you to fend for yourself against your drunken, abusive father!”

“My family is not the issue here,” Legolas retorted sharply, “You raping and killing seven innocent women is. What you’ve done is unforgivable and inexcusable. I’m not going to let you get away these crimes. You will pay for what you did to those girls. There is no use in you trying to escape. Gimli is already on his way to alert the guards and seal all the gates to the city. Just surrender now and accept your fate. You are defeated.”

The man actually had the audacity to laugh. “Do you really think I’m just going to give myself up like that? That I’m just going to come along peacefully when I know the noose waits for me just on the other side of tomorrow to string me up by my neck?” he snorted as if he thought Legolas daft in the head for entertaining the mere idea of him surrendering. “No... Why should I surrender?,” he softly mused as he and Legolas continued to circle the table, “Why should I surrender when all that stands between me and freedom is some frail little elf that’s barely strong enough to stand up on his own, let alone defend himself?” the man chuckled, eyeing the elven prince with ill-concealed self-confidence. “No... No I don’t think I am going to admit defeat just yet...”

“Then it’s your death...” Legolas replied softly, slowly pulling one of his long knives from its sheath at his side and bringing it to bare at the known murderer’s chest.

“We’ll see about that...” Harberd replied with an arrogant smirk pulling at his lips. With no warning at all, the man then suddenly lunged for a nearby end table he had managed to maneuver himself beside while he and Legolas had been slowly circling the large table in the center of the room, and grabbed the hilt of a sword Legolas had not noticed laying there when he had first entered.

Spinning around the table, Harberd’s sword swung out, cleaving the air in a whirlwind blur of silver and black before meeting the elf’s blade in a deafening crash of ringing metal. Legolas quickly spun out and away from the man’s attack, desperate to put more distance between himself and the murderous guard. Though he would have never admitted to anyone out loud, he was taken aback by the man’s strength and speed. He had barely even seen the attack coming before he had managed to put up a defense.

It was in that moment that Legolas suddenly realized how weak he still was from his coma and visions. How tired and exhausted he really was despite all his previous attempts to ignore and deny it up to that point. His whole right arm felt numb and tingly from the force of the blow he just barely managed to deflect. He was too weak to be fighting like this he suddenly knew with a sudden, sickening flash of realization.

Aragorn was right... the elven prince couldn’t help but hear his inner voice remark as he spun around to face the murderous guard one more, his knife bared protectively up in front of his chest.

Harberd was too strong for him to take hand to hand like this in such close quarters. He needed more room to move and maneuver himself away from the man’s attacks in or Harberd was going to simply overpower him before he ever even got the chance to go on the offensive. He had only just begun to retrain with his long knives and despite his earlier assurance to Gimli, still felt rather awkward with them from his five year long bout of inactivity. Plus, with him still needing to rely on his cane to help steady and support his left leg, Legolas was left with only his right hand to fight with. He wasn’t sure how long he would last against Harberd in an all out battle of strength and skill before he was finally worn out or defeated. He needed to somehow stall and wear the other man out until Aragorn and the other guards finally managed to arrive.

But the room was small to give much hope of Legolas actually being able to do such a thing for very long. And even as Legolas frantically looked around for a way to somehow gain the upper hand of the increasingly dangerous situation, the man seemed to sense his opponent’s growing panic and distress.

“What’s the matter, prince? Getting tired already?” Harberd jeered as he quickly swept in to deliver a second assault on the weakened elf before Legolas had the chance to recover from the first.

Legolas managed to see this second attack coming however, but even as he brought his knife up to block the man’s deadly assault, he felt his frail body brutally batted aside into the nearby table by the force of the man’s blow. His hip violently collided with the side of the table, rattling the table’s contents and knocking over several of the candles sitting atop it. One, its wick still sputtering with flame, lazily rolled across the cluttered tabletop before finally dropping off the side to the floor below. But not before catching the edges of several loose parchments laying scattered across the table on fire...

Not seeing the first small flicker of kindling flames amongst the table’s jumbled assortment of papers and loose objects, Legolas quickly pushed himself away from the table just in time to spin around and catch the man’s sword against his knife as it once again descended upon him in another attempt to cleave him in two. Parrying the bone-rattling blow off to the side, the elf surged forward with all the strength he possessed to offer the man an attack of his own.

Engaging in an almost frantic clash of arms, the man and elf practically threw themselves at one another; one fighting for freedom and escape, the other for retribution and justice. Trading blow after bone-jarring blow with one another, the two slowly drove each other back and forth across the room. Blades sung through the air before clashing together in sharp pealing rounds of colliding steel. Though exhausted and weak, Legolas fought as if possessed, pushing every ounce of remaining strength he had into every blow he delivered onto the murderous guard. Spinning and blocking with as much speed and agility as his weak and withered body would allow, the elf matched Harberd attack for attack. Every time the man attacked, Legolas would block and immediately try to move in to make a strike of his own.

But the man was not so easily overcome by the elf’s weak and desperate attempts at gaining the upper hand, and easily pressed Legolas back onto the defensive with an assault of quick and powerful attacks all delivered in rapid succession of one another. Legolas knew he was slowly being overpowered and driven back, but he refused to give up and admit defeat, and only pushed more effort into his already tired and hurting body. He couldn’t let Harberd win and get away. He had to fight and stop him. He had to hold out at least until Aragorn and Gimli got there with more guards. Or until he was finally struck down in his efforts to stop the escaping killer...

The fire was now spreading with frightening speed behind the two fighters. Already half the table was engulfed in a mass of wreathing orange flames. Thick black smoke was beginning to billow up off the table and fill the room in a thin, smoky haze.

Legolas desperately blocked another swing of the man’s sword aimed at his chest and spun away before having to block yet another attack as Harberd viciously lunged after him. He was beginning to panic. He could feel his body progressively getting weaker and weaker with every one of the man’s attacks he was forced to block and defend himself against. Already his arms felt like nothing more than sluggish dead weights attached to his body. He was beginning to feel less and less like he was actually fighting than just struggling to keep himself from being killed as Harberd continued to viciously bat him about the room like some kind of abused rag doll.

“You should just give up now, little prince,” Harberd laughed as he surged forward on the elf again to drive him back into the far back corner of the room.

“Never!” Legolas snarled, batting the man’s sword off to the side with his long knife before desperately spinning himself out of the corner back into the relative openness of the room before the man could trap him in any further. “I’m not going to let you win!”

A towering wall of flames now stood on the other side of the room behind the two above a now completely fire-engulfed table. Flames jumped and licked at the underside of the ceiling, slowly blackening it. Several other pieces of furniture around the room had also begun to catch fire and burn because of their close proximity to the burning table. Smoke now hung thick the air and stung the eyes and throats of the room’s battling occupants, making it increasingly hard to see or breathe.

“That’s what you think!” the man shouted back through the smoky haze of the room as he rounded back on Legolas just as the elf tried to move in and make a strike on his turned back. Lashing out at the elven prince, Harberd’s sword sung a deadly tune as it whistled through the air in a direct path for Legolas’ chest.

Legolas jumped back just in time to avoid the main arc of the blade, but just as he brought his knife up to protect himself from any possible follow through attacks, he felt his weapon suddenly knocked out of his hands by a sudden and powerful swing of the man’s sword. Sent sailing through the air, Legolas’ knife clattered across the ground before finally coming to a stop half a dozen paces away behind the startled elf against the far back wall.

“Well, well, well... It looks like you’re no longer in a position to be making any more threats about you stopping me now does it, little prince?” Harberd chuckled as he stared at the weaponless elf with a malicious glint shining in his pale grey eyes. Behind him, the fire had begun to spread up onto the walls and turn the entire front half of the room into a towering inferno. Set against this flaming backdrop of fire and destruction, Legolas couldn’t help but be struck by the sudden mental image of Harberd being the living image of Sauron himself standing in front of the fires of Mount Doom.

“So what am I suppose to do with you now, hmm?” the man asked in soft, rhetorical musing as he slowly leveled the tip at his sword at Legolas’ heart and watched with sadistic glee the first true shine of panic and fear enter the elf’s liquid blue eyes. “I suppose I could just finish you off now... But where would the fun be in that?” he smiled, enjoying the euphoric rush of power that always came from knowing the fate of the one’s life standing in front of you rested in your hands, and your hands alone. “I know...” he softly gasped as if only thinking of it now, “I’ll just leave you here. Just leave you here and lock the door behind me while this whole rat house of a home goes up in flames with you inside...” he chuckled in dark satisfaction and delight at the almost stricken look of fear that flashed across the elf’s eyes at this. “Think of how the King and that dwarf would react!” he then brayed in sadistic laughter, “Think of how they would feel when they finally got here with their troop of guards only to find a burnt out hole in the ground and the charred remains of their skinny little friend lying in the ashes!”

“You are despicable...” Legolas whispered under his breath with unconcealed disgust and contempt. “You make me sick.”

“Well... to each his own,” the man shrugged with careless indifference. “I suppose this is where we say our final goodbyes then,” he then said, taking several steps backwards towards the door standing somewhere just on the other side of the room beyond a towering wall of flames and smoke, his front still turned towards Legolas and sword leveled threateningly at the elf’s skinny chest.

“Not yet we do,” Legolas replied smoothly before viciously lunging after the man with his cane held high and pulled back over his shoulder in both hands. Swinging his walking stick at the man like a club, Legolas knocked the weapon from Harberd’s hand and sent it flying across the room to floor. Not wasting a moment, the elf then bodily threw himself at the startled killer and leapt on him like a rabid wolf on a wounded deer; clawing at his eyes and grabbing for his throat. Anything to try and stop him from making his escape.

Howling in rage, the man struggled to pull the elf off of him. For several moments the two grappled with one another with neither one able to get the upper hand over the other as they recklessly spun around the burning room locked together in a battle of strength, crashing into furniture, walls, and anything else unfortunate enough to get in their path. Finally though, after several minutes of this, Harberd managed to grab a handful of Legolas’ shirt and pried him off himself.

Brutally throwing the elf to the floor, the man was instantly atop him, straddling Legolas’ chest and pressing him down to the ground with all his weight as his hands immediately sought to wrap themselves around the prince’s throat. Squeezing with enough force to smash the back of the elf’s head down into the ground, Harberd watched in gleeful delight as Legolas began to frantically claw at his hands and gasp for air.

“Now it ends...” the man leaned down and softly whispered into Legolas’ ear as he watched the elf’s eyes begin to bulge from lack of air.

Pinned down on his back and desperately choking for air, Legolas suddenly felt as if he was reliving the horrible vision he had had in the House of Healing. But unlike his vision, he knew this time there was no chance of him waking up to find himself safe and sound and surrounded by the comfort of his friends. This, for once, was real.

As Legolas lay there gasping at the smoky air and struggling to pry the vice-like hands from his throat, it suddenly felt like time had slowly and he could suddenly see, hear, and feel everything around him with a super heightened sense of clarity and precision. He could hear the roar of the fire around them beginning to grow progressively louder over the sound of pounding blood in his ears. He was now suddenly aware of the hot, fiery caress of the raging inferno buffeting his face and body as he struggled to find breath and push the man off from overtop him.

But his fingers did not seem to possess any more strength in them and only weakly clawed at the backs of Harberd’s hands. He could feel his body beginning to slowly grow sluggish and heavy as the edge of his vision began to grow hazy and dark. He could almost feel his energy slowly seeping from his body like some kind of thick sludge.

Tears had begun to form in the corners of his eyes and roll down the sides of his face as he fought to pry the killer’s hands from off his throat. But try as he might, he could not seem to break the man’s hold and felt himself slowly slipping back into the darkness that was beginning to slowly rise up to meet him.

No... You can’t give in... Not now! You have to fight!

But try as Legolas might, he knew he couldn’t win. He could already feel his body beginning to grow heavy and weak. His mind more sluggish and slow, and his eyelids more heavy and less willing to stay open.

Harberd seemed to realize his imminent victory and squeezed down harder on the elf’s throat, eager to finish the job and be done with the annoying elven prince.

Legolas thrashed and struggled harder against the man, his lungs screaming for air, but he knew he was already lost.

No no no!!! You can’t let him win! You have to fight!

But Harberd only laughed at the elf’s weak attempts at salvation and leaned down over his helpless victim until he was almost nose to nose with the suffocating prince. “It looks like you don’t get to see me hang after all, now does it?” he whispered mockingly as he stared down into the elf’s wide, oxygen-deprived reddened eyes.

Legolas wanted to spit some sort of smart and angry retort back in the man’s face about justice and divine retribution one day finally finding him for all his heinous crimes, but the strong fingers crushing his throat blocked any such comments from ever being voiced. He could feel his hold on reality slowly slipping. The dark hazy fog tunneling his field of vision was beginning to grow and send little black dots dancing across his eyes. He could feel himself slowly dying...

For a moment, all Legolas could think about was how he had failed in stopping Harberd and finding justice for all the innocent young girls the man had ever violated and killed. And how he was about to meet the very same end he had seen in his vision of the dead girl’s rape and murder in the House of Healing all those many days ago.

But then, just as the elven prince was about to give up all hope of him living to see another day, he happened to see a small glint of silver flash in the corner of his eye. Focusing all his waning attention on that small flicker of light, he forced his darkening eyes to make out the outline of a long, sharpened piece of metal laying only several feet away from him on the ground near his head, its surface gleaming brightly in the flickering light of the raging fire like a dim beacon of hope. And it was only with what last little remaining bit of consciousness he still stubbornly held onto that Legolas realized what he was looking at was his own knife Harberd had previously knocked away from him during their earlier battle.

Not thinking, but just doing, he desperately reached for the fallen weapon, his fingers weakly inching across the floor like a wounded spider.

Come on... Come on... he silently chanted, tears now rolling down his cheeks in frantic desperateness to reach the discarded blade.

He felt his fingertips weakly graze across the hilt of his fallen knife, but instead of being able to actually grab it, only managed to nudge it a little farther out of reach. Whimpering in growing desperateness, the elven prince tried once again, this time reaching his arm out across the floor as far as his muscles could possibly stretch. For several long moments of eternity, his flailing fingers met nothing but empty air. But then, just as Legolas began to feel his last remaining bit of strength leave his dying body, he felt his fingers finally find purchase on the blade’s familiar wooden grip. Grabbing it tight and not even bothering to direct his strike, the elf swung with all the strength he still possessed up at the man sitting straddled across his chest and crushing him into the ground with his hands still tightly wrapped around his throat.

Harberd, who had up to that point not even noticed the elf’s pained attempts to reach his fallen weapon, only finally realized his error when he suddenly felt the elf’s blade plunge like a hot dagger of slicing pain into the left side of chest between his last two ribs almost up to its gilded hilt. Choking back a gurgled scream of pain and surprise, the man’s grip on the elf’s neck instantly broke and his body slumped to the side off the elven prince’s frail body.

At the sudden disappearance of the vice-like fingers from around his abused throat, Legolas’ chest immediately exploded upwards to draw an impossibly long, shuddering drag of air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Coughing violently as his lungs finally reached full capacity, Legolas lay there weak and trembling and gasping for air as he waited for his senses to return to him and his vision and mind to clear from his very near-death experience.

Finally gathering the shattered remains of his strength, the elf weakly pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. He wavered dangerously for a moment, his head still spinning from his long lack of oxygen, but he didn’t collapse.

It was only then that Legolas finally looked down at the crumpled form of his would-be killer laying there on the ground beside him. Harberd lay on his side with the hilt of Legolas’ knife protruding from his side like some kind of crude extra appendage. Blood had begun to pool beneath his body and seep out across the floor in a growing puddle of deep crimson.

Legolas slowly met the man’s gaze and held it almost apologetically as he watched the guard pitifully stare back up at him and begin to wordlessly move his mouth as though trying to say something. But all that came out was a weak, gurgled sputter of blood that slowly rolled down the side of his mouth to the floor below.

Kneeling there watching Harberd choke and sputter on his own blood, Legolas suddenly felt he should say something to the dying guard. Something charitable and comforting to ease the man’s passing as he slowly slipped from this mortal plane of existence into the unknown. But no appropriate words seemed to come to mind. He still couldn’t forget what the man had done to so many innocent lives. What he had taken from them as they also lay there dying in their last few moments of life.

Unable to find any words to offer the dying man, Legolas could only sit there and watch as Harberd gave one last sputtering cough – perhaps a failed, last minute attempt at repentance or silent plea for forgiveness – before watching the man’s eyelids then softly flutter and slowly drift shut to remain forever shuttered to the waking world he left behind.

For several long moments of silence Legolas stared at the motionless form of the dead guard, lost in a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Somehow he wasn’t sure how he felt about Harberd’s defeat. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, the man’s death felt hollow and devoid of any and all feelings of victory to him. He knew he should feel relieved if not perhaps even a little bit triumphant about knowing he had finally put an end to the man’s long and vicious killing spree. But even then, the elf felt strangely sorry it had all had to end as it did.

Unfortunately though, Legolas was unable to reflect on the man’s death much longer as a sudden, fiery blast of heat abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

The entire room was now engulfed in flames. Smoke billowed all around him and hung so thick in the air Legolas could feel his lungs beginning to constrict and spasm in his chest for want of clean air. All around him, tongues of fire danced and leapt into the air as though trying to somehow reach out and touch him with their fiery caress.

Legolas quickly forced himself up onto his feet, ignoring the pain and momentary wave of dizziness that ripped through his already weak and battered body by such quick and unthought out actions. The house was burning. He had to get out of there now or he would be burned alive. Already he could no longer see where the large wooden table of the room had been. For in its place now stood nothing but a towering pyre of wreathing orange flames.

The sound of snapping wood and crackling fire filled the air in a deafening roar as the elf quickly stooped to retrieve his black walking stick from the ground. He would need it to make his escape. But more than that, he refused to leave his friend’s gift behind to become nothing more than dry kindling for the raging blaze around him.

But as Legolas then moved to retrieve his long knife from the side of the dead man’s body, he was forced to finally take pause. Somewhere deep inside him, he suddenly felt a strange sense of pity well up for his fallen enemy. Though he could never fully understand or forgive Harberd for the horrible crimes he committed , he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the miserable life the man had been born into and forced to live. Somehow it just didn’t seem fair...

Shaking his head sadly, the elf bent and carefully pulled his blood-stained knife from the man’s side. “I’m sorry...” he softly whispered over the sound of roaring flames before returning the bloody blade to its sheath at his side and then quickly turning towards the door he knew stood somewhere on the other side of the smoke filled room.

Pulling the edge of his cloak up over his nose and mouth to try and prevent too much more of the noxious fumes from entering his already burning lungs, Legolas staggered forward on weak and trembling legs. His whole body felt like it was going to collapse from exhaustion at any moment. But Legolas knew he had to push on. Because if he didn’t he knew he would only become trapped in the blaze and killed. He had to get out...

He could feel his skin beginning to dry and tighten around him from his close proximity to the raging flames as he struggled to find his way through the billowing waves of smoke and fire. Dodging around a flame-consumed chair, the elf suddenly felt like he was walking through the deepest circle of hell. All around him he could see nothing but fire and smoke. He could barely even make out where he was going anymore. Smoke coiled and rolled around him in the air so thickly now Legolas could barely even see two steps ahead of him let alone breathe.

Stumbling blindly through the smoky haze with his cloak still vainly pulled up over his mouth, the elven prince finally managed to somehow locate the elusive door to the small back room. Weakly limping as fast as his cane and legs could carry him down the fiery tunnel that had once been a darkened hallway, Legolas burst out into the main first room of the house. Unfortunately though, Legolas was still no where near escaping this fiery, nightmarish hell.

All around him flames jumped and crackled, sending hot sprays of burning embers up into his face. Covering his head to try and protect his exposed skin, the elven prince pressed on in the direction he thought he remembered the front door to be. Desperately weaving his way through the burning obstacle course of the furniture and chairs, Legolas lurched and stumbled forward towards his only hope for salvation.

Smoke billowed all around him, stinging his eyes and filling them with blurry tears. He had finally lost all sense of sight and had nothing else to rely on except the single desperate hope that he was going in the right direction of the door. He couldn’t breathe anymore. Every choking breath he took felt like a suffocating mix of ash and dirt being pulled down into his screaming lungs. He wanted to gag and cough the foul mixture of smoky air from his seizing lungs but knew it would avail him none. He needed to get out...

He could hear the house beginning to groan and creak around him as the raging fire continued to slowly consume it in a fiery mass. He could hear the distant crashes of things falling to the floor and breaking as cabinets and other such things began to collapse under their own weight from the devouring touch of fire slowly eating away at them. The roar of fire surrounded him and drowned out almost any other possible sound to the elven prince’s sensitive ears.

Weakly limping to the center of the burning room, Legolas looked around in confusion. He could no longer tell which direction he was heading. The smoke was too blinding and the flames too high for him to tell any longer which end of the room he was even standing at.

Legolas felt himself begin to panic. Which way was he suppose to go?! How was he suppose to escape when he couldn’t even find the door to this infernal fire-pit?!

But just as Legolas began to feel his chest constrict not just from lack of oxygen but also building panic, he thought he happened to catch the muffled sound of shouts and screams coming from somewhere in front of him just beyond the towering wall of flames to his right. His ears now desperately trained to the sound, Legolas frantically scrambled towards it. Of course... he almost sobbed in relief. The neighbors and townspeople living in the surrounding streets had probably begun to smell the smoke coming from the burning house and see the building flames. They were probably beginning to rally to try and to put out the blaze before it managed to spread to any of the other surrounding houses.

But Legolas didn’t care about the surrounding buildings or even stopping the raging fire. All he could think about was escaping this nightmarish inferno and finding his way back out into the fresh, clean air of the winter night.

But just as Legolas began to near the front part of the room where the shouts were beginning to grow more a little more clear and loud, he suddenly heard a long, low groan of distressed wood fill the air above him. Looking up, he felt his stomach twist in his gut. He could see the support beams running across the entire ceiling of the room beginning to crack and splinter under their own weight.

Oh no...

Legolas desperately pushed more effort into his weak and stumbling legs. He needed to get out! The whole house was starting to collapse! He could already feel hot embers and burning pieces of plaster and wood beginning to fall on his exposed head and neck as he blindly pushed through the rolling waves of almost unbearable heat and smoke in the direction he prayed the door lay.

Unfortunately though, Legolas never got within sight of the elusive door. For just as he was struggling to limp the last few seeming endless feet of space between him and the sound of muffled shouts in the near distance, he suddenly heard the loud, sickening crack of splintering wood come from somewhere right above him and saw a large, hulking black mass of flames suddenly sweep down towards him out the corner of his right eye.

Instinctively turning to try and protect himself, Legolas was only dimly aware of the charred black remains of a huge support beam breaking loose from the ceiling above to rush down and meet him like a hungry black mouth of darkness. There was a sudden and intense explosion of pain on the right side of his head as the beam mercilessly smashed against his skull.

And then, there was nothing...

******

To Be Continued...

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