SS3

      "Where is that disgrace of an elf?" Strider muttered sometime later. He had been following what he presumed to be Legolas's trail, but there was no sign of the elf.
         "Which elf do you speak so ill of, human?"
         Strider suddenly realized they were surrounded by elves, all with bows bent.
         "This looks familiar," Gimli said. "Perhaps we followed the wrong trail."
         "I am looking for a Grey Elf who, in the common tongue, goes by Greenleaf. In his own language, he is Legolas." Strider said. "And I speak of him only what he rightly deserves."
         "No elf is a disgrace." The leader of the group of elves said.
         "Car�!" A familiar voice cried. "Autat!"
         "That's Legolas," Gimli whispered. "What's he saying?"
         "He said to leave us be." Strider replied. "Legolas-"
         "I would advise you not to say anything rash, for there are many elves in this forest, not all of whom will listen to me."
         "You're being unadvisably stubburn, much to the likeness of a donkey."
         "You seem to have forgotten that there are nearly a hundred bows, bent in your direction."
         "I have not forgotten. I care not."
         "I have found Merry and Pippin I think. There is a river a little way from here-"
         "Then we must cross it!" Gimli interupted.
         "Nay, the south shore is guarded heavily."
         "By Urik hai? We've dealt with those before." Gimli was still sure.
         "Ay, Urik hai guard the bank, alas, harsher beings than orcs and Urik hai are there. Men, wild animals, mountain trolls, even some elves. Their power is beyond any of us."
         "Well, master elf..." Aragorn paused. "We die trying to save them or we die doing nothing."
         Legolas contimplated this. He finally looked at the leader of the group of elves and spoke to them in his own tongue. After some discussion, the elves left.
         "They will not help us. We are, again, alone."
         "You were speaking elvish, but I didn't recognize it." Strider commented, perplexed.
         "Nay, you wouldn't have. It was Sindarin, the language of Mirkwood. Come, the river lies that way."
         None of the three said anything after that. They were glad to have found Merry and Pippin, but all three knew that they were walking into death.

         Legolas awoke hours, maybe even days, later. Time had escaped him. He looked up through darkness, but he knew he was no longer in the forest, for the air was stale and foul. He quickly reached for his bow, only to find that he no longer had it, nor his arrows.
         "The elf is awake!" He heard a shrill voice pierce the air.
         Orcs, he thought to himself. To his surprise, a light appeared before him, and an old, white haired wizard walked towards him.
         "Do you know who I am, Legolas of Mirkwood?"
         Legolas stood, realizing he was in some sort of cage. A horrible realization of being trapped ran through his blood. He did not answer the wizard.
         "I am Sarumon the Wise. And you are-"
         "Imprisoned," the elf finsihed for him.
         "Yes." Sarumon smiled. "Your friends got away with the halflings. But it is no matter, for you will tell me where they are headed."
         "Alas, if only I knew."
         "You lie!"
         "I lie not! We had not a plan other than to rescue the hobbits."
         Sarumon was quiet for a moment. He finally smiled again. "Do you know how Urik hai were created?"
         "Ay, there isn't an elf who doesn't. They were elves once. Noble elves, tortured into your hideous warriors."
         "Some would disagree. They were hideous elves once, tortured into my beautiful, noble warriors. We could do the same to you. You would wish for death before it ends."
         "Do as you like to me, for the little ones were rescued, our mission is complete, your rein is over." Legolas moved his eyes to meet those of the aging wizard.
         Sarumon gazed back at the young elf with a cold glare. He was contimplating Legolas. He had threatened many elves with this fate, and all had trembled and surrendered before him. But this one elf was defying him? Did he know who he was dealing with?
         Suddenly, the wizard let out a long laugh. "You think I am bluffing?!"
         "No, I think you are serious. Yet, what care have I for life when I lived so long? I have done what I set out to do. I care not what you do to me."
         The elf held a proud sense of calm about him. He was, in all truth, frightened beyond his own realm of belief. He heard stories of what happened to his anscestors; they were twisted, tortured, killed in a sense. Orcs were hideous beings, but not because of their outward appearance, but because the very thing that distinguished elves had been ripped away from them. An inner magic, power, timeless beauty of the soul ripped away in a moment of unimaginable pain. And Legolas was scared.
         "Fine! Have what you will! It is no matter to me, I will find them anyway, and kill them all!" The wizard's eyes grew wide, a maddened fury burned within him. How dare this creature insult him so! Denying his power!
         He began to utter an ancient spell. Legolas noticed the room he was in had emptied, save for the wizard and himself.
         Suddenly, a great light burst into his cell, and he was blinded. He felt defensless for a split second, and it was in this second that he lost all hope. The evil words of the wizard had taken controll of his body. Pain seared through his flesh and bones to such a degree that he would have welcomed death.
         Sarumon watched with demented pleasure as the elf before him dropped to the ground. The prince curled up, screaming in agony.
         Legolas began to wish for death, anything to bring an end to this pain. He conjured up all the energy he could manage.
         "You-"
         He needed someone with him. He was going through such immeasurable torture, if nothing else he needed a friend.
         "Will not-"
         He gasped between words and screams. He needed someone...
         "Win!"
         Aragorn! He thought with despair. He gasped once more, then passed into another dimension of being. He was still screaming, still fighting the pain, but he couldn't hear his screams. He was trapped within himself, forced to listen to his own tortured thoughts. He thought mostly of the pain, mostly of how he wanted to die. But other thoughts weaved into his mind through the pain. He thought of Mirkwood, his land, his people. He had let them down. He thought of Frodo and Sam, and the one ring. He had let them down. He thought of Merry and Pippin, Gimli. He thought of Aragorn. He had made a promise to them all, and he let them all down.
         He was brought back, he could hear his own screams again. Then he felt it- his soul was being ripped away from somewhere inside him. He was being torn apart from the inside out.
         The elven prince closed his eyes, holding back tears. The pain and the realization that he had lost his soul was becoming too much for the elf to handle.
         Sarumon, since he had perfected his torture into one simple spell, had seen thousands upon thousands of elves go through this pain. Had it been any other elf on this night, he would have simply left, the screams were a burden to even the wizard. But something about this elf, this woodland elf, mezmorized him. He was captivated by watching him writh in pain, and took unnatural pleasure from it.
         The prince's screams began to fade, growing quiet and sparce at first, until the altogether ceased. The elf had energy only enough to gasp for precious breath.
         He was dying.
         The thought struck Sarumon suddenly. He hadn't planned on the elf dying. had he cast the spell too strong? Still, it was an elf, what did its death matter? Yet somehow, it did matter. A battle began to take place within the wizard. And for every second he thought, Legolas was lost deeper into shadow.