The Ghost Warrior [Legolas Fan Fic]

Chapter Fifteen

Five months later, I have a chapter. Senior year and now robotics has left me with little spare time. However, I am determined to continue my writing at every chance I get. I do not know when the next one will be, but hopefully it will not be as long of a wait.

Enjoy this chapter as much as you can, and thank you for your continued support. It means the world to me.

~Zelinith

One week later, far north-west from Imladris...

For the majority of the trip, Legolas had not been very coherent.

His festering wounds and weakened state left him dazed and half-aware of his surroundings. Although Eruheran had been helping him in secret, tending his injuries only slightly enough so Morohtar wouldn't notice, he still was creeping closer to death.

The little Prince was not certain on how long he had been gone from his Ada and friends, only knowing that the dark elf in charge was not a good being. He knew well-enough that he was in trouble, and help had become a distant thought at this point. The elfling still clung to the fact that his beloved Ada wouldn't give up on him, but there was only so much a young child could hold on to before they gave up entirely.

And at the sight of where they were heading, Legolas whimpered in fright.

The city, for that is what it was, was in complete ruins, and darkness seemed to seep out of every broken corner. The stone of the buildings was aged and weathered, crumbling apart at the slightest breeze. Pieces of walls and doors were strewn about, the belongings of households completely scattered. As the the company of three walked through the narrow pathways, eyes peered out of the darkest corners and whispers could be heard on the air.

Legolas shivered, hiding as much as he could in Morohtar's arms.

It seemed to take an age to make their way through the ruins of the city. Cries were carried on the wind, carrying the threat of worse things to come to the elfling's ears. Quickly, they made their way to the heart of the land, a giant fortress sitting tall and grand.

Unlike the rest of the city, this building was sturdy and mostly unharmed. Except for a few missing chunks, the stone was rather pristine in an eerie way. Leading up the stairs to the main gate, orcs stood guard along the sides, sneering at the trio. Morohtar simply glared back.

But it was a figure in the gate's entranceway that caught Legolas' attention.

And ripped a scream out of his throat.

The figure laughed lowly, a scratchy and guttural sound as Morohtar threw a hand over the Prince's mouth, forcing him to be silent. Walking by, Eruheran jabbed the elf in the side, if the figure could even be called an elf, stalking after his leader. The other elf only smirked and lazily followed.

"Honestly, Morohtar," the elf drawled, the voice deep and rough "you should have left a surprise for those stuck-up elves and wizard. Merely leaving that she-elf knocked out is hardly exciting."

Morohtar ignored the elf, continuing further into the fortress.

"What?" the elf asked. "Hit a sore spot, have I? Considering the games you like to play with your prey, that can hardly be counted as a move on your part. More like a pass, really. Even if you took the brat Prince."

Stopping in his tracks, Morohtar signaled Eruheran to leave the corridor. Only after he left did the dark elf turn towards the elf.

Now, from far away the elf did indeed look like an elf. But there were subtleties that set him apart from the immortal, ethereal creatures who nurtured the world around them.

Ripped with muscle, the elf was taller and broader than most, scars running in lines down his arms and legs. Metal protruded from his hands, forming grotesque claws and the same contraption came out of his feet. Hunched over slightly, the same gleam could be seen coming from his back, showing the metal disks sticking out. His face was not left unscathed either, a metal plate encompassing his jaw, jagged metal bits sticking up like warg fangs. He looked more beast than an elf.

Legolas couldn't help but stare at the black eyes in the elf's face, red pupils the only sign of life from the gaze. This would haunt him for years to come, the laughter revisiting him in future nightmares.

Aware of the staring, the elf simply returned a smile.

"Like what you see?"

Legolas cried out again.

"That's enough, Caunardhon." Morohtar said firmly. "I do not need you to frighten him to death. I'd rather save his demise for when the elves come marching onto our land."

Caunardhon snorted. "As if he'll even survive until then."

A glare was all the response he received.

"Oh, don't be like this. I'm joking is all. But I do still feel that you should have done something more exciting when you were taking the elfling. Should have left some dead bodies laying around like I did. Oh, that would have been great."

"I am not like you in those respects. I do not crave the destruction of others as you do. Which, as I might recall, is precisely why I enlisted you to dispatch of that patrol."

The elf-beast cackled, his jaw creaking. "A "beast" they call me. Oh, if they only knew!"

Morohtar shook his head. "No doubt they will know soon enough. It won't take long for them to find my clues, leading them towards this place. I want you to make sure that the trap is prepared and ready for their arrival. They have forfeited their turns at this point is how I see it, and now it's up to me to make the final move in our game. Prepare your creatures and orcs for war. If this is to be the end of everything we have worked for, I want it to be devastating."

With a nod, Caunardhon sauntered back down the corridor, leaving Morohtar alone in the dark, a trembling elfling in his arms.