SS7

          Frodo Baggins stood looking into Mount Doom, Samwise by his side. The One Ring lay in Frodo's open palm. Sam only watched his friend with heavy eyes.
         "Now it comes to it, Sam," Frodo said simply, and he tossed the ring into the fires of Mount Doom.
         Sam glanced about as nothing happened.
         He caught the same look of confusion in Frodo's eyes.
         "Isn't something supposed to happen?" The ring bearer asked doubtfully.
         "I suppose, Mr. Frodo, that the earth does not want to make a production of evil being destroyed, because that would be giving it too much thought and respect."
         Frodo was satisfyed with Sam's response, and with a smile, the two hobbits turned to follow their trail back home.

         Aragorn awoke suddenly, dazed and groggy from some event he could not remember. He focused his eyes to the darkness that enveloped him, trying to distinguish what had roused him.
         His hopes lifted when he saw a familiar shimmer in the air. It was the same shimmer he had seen above Legolas ages ago, when the elf was imprisioned in the very same place that the ranger himself was now imprisioned. But the shimmer meant that Sarumon had been conquered, but by what?
         The shimmer disappeared, and Aragorn realized he was no longer trapped. Suddenly, it didn't matter how or what had defeated the wizard, but that he could still find the elf.
         As he stumbled into the open air, he gazed at the sky for the first time in weeks. And he smiled.
         "Alcar elenillor. Now this is glory from the stars, my friend."

         A band of escaped slaves suddenly stopped running. A strange feeling came over them.
         Silvaha let her lover wrap his arms protectively around her. He was whispering words of hope to her. She felt some unknown force seize her body, yet it was gentle, not evil.
         Confused, she gazed into the eyes of her beloved, who looked back at her with a broad smile.
         "Your wings are restored, my love."

         The king of Mirkwood sat by his son's bedside, dreadfully awaiting his predicted hour of death. Legolas had slipped into a deep sleep, one that the king suspected he should not return from. Several of Legolas's childhood friends crowded around his door, waiting anxiously and hoping foolishly that the king would come and tell them Legolas had recovered. A shadow had covered Mirkwood, and all were silent, each awaiting the same hour.
         The king gazed at his son's face, wishing desperately that he could do something. Every second that passed brought a new sorrow to his heart.
         An hour later he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder. Lifting his head, he came face to face with Aragorn. He began to stand up.
         Then, his heart jumped. Had he imagined it? It was impossible. Yet...
         There, he felt it again. A squeeze from his son's hand. Barely detectable, but there nonetheless.
         The king held his breath and waited. Could this really be happening? He had only to wait a few more seconds before his son's eyes opened.
         He exhaled, a smile spreading across his face.

         Legolas had been in another world, one of beauty greater than that of Mirkwood, but he suddenly felt himself being pulled back.
         He opened his eyes, but shut them again. Lights so bright he would have thought he was on the moon bombarded his sight. After a second of agonizing pain, he realized he could see again.
         Sitting straight up, he caused his father to rise to his feet.
         "Son?"
         "I'm saved..." Legolas said quietly. "I can see, and I have strength."
         Father and son shared a joyous hug. It was then that Legolas noticed Aragorn in the room.
         "Aragorn, my friend! I did not think you lived."
         "I did not think you lived either."
         "Tell me, what happened?"
         "Frodo and Sam completed their quest." The ranger said, smiling at the prince.