Title: Hope Renewed

Summary: The darkening of Mirkwood as seen through the eyes of one of its many inhabitants. This was written for the ME express challenge prompt # 37: Forest.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters created by Tolkien, and I make no money off of any of this.

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Darkness. Fear. Pain. Despair. This is all I see, this is what our lives have become. All around me, there is only darkness, the spread of evil among us, among the place we have lived for so long. Where once there was peace, light, and the joy of living, now there is none. The orcs come among us, bringing death, pain, fire and destruction. Their filthy, heavy booted feet spread the touch of evil among this place, our home, like a poison. Many animals fled, and those who remained became something ugly, some twisted version of what they had once been. I could only watch as my forest, my home was slowly and mercilessly transformed from the joyful place it had once been.

These woods were once known as Greenwood the Great, but we now reside in Mirkwood. Mirkwood, how I despise that name. Unfortunately, it is an accurate name. Where once the light shone down upon us, reaching to the forest floor, there is now perpetual gloom. Travelers fear to step foot within these woods, and with good reason. I cannot bear to recount the atrocities I have witnessed here, never being able to help, feeling more and more helpless. There seems to be nothing I can do to stop the spread of this malignant presence that infects us, sickens us. I have watched too many of my friends and neighbors fall victim to this malingering sickness, darkening their hearts and minds until they are no longer recognizable. They are changed and cannot reclaim who and what they once were.

Though I fight it with all of my heart, I can feel hope leaving me. For what hope is there when all I ever see is pain and darkness?

Then I hear a voice, one unknown to me, speaking of hope. I am not alone in this fight, the voice says. I must hold on long enough for the side of light to prevail. Others are fighting for us, with us. Though it may be nothing more than the hope of an old fool who wishes things were different, I find myself wanting to believe this voice. The speaker is fair, and while I sense he has seen many of the same horrors I have witnessed, his essence is still pure and filled with light. With beings such as he fighting for us, perhaps hope remains. I cling to this thought and feel the strength of my renewed hope surging through me, burning away the lingering malaise. Thank you, my new friend, I whisper to him. I will hope, and one day, perhaps you and I will meet again when our home is once more filled with light and life.

"You're welcome, my friend," Legolas said in return as he let his hand linger upon the trunk of the great Oak, the only tree in sight that was not twisted and decaying. "I look forward to that day. Just remember that there is always hope."