"Lasto beth nin." ~[Listen to my voice.]~
      The faint voice called out in the darkness, willing him to heed it's call, to open his eyes and return to the world of reality.
      "Lasto beth nin." ~[Listen to my voice.]~
      It was so bright and warm inside. Inside, he was safe.
      "Lasto nin..." ~[Listen to my...]~

      The first thing that Legolas was aware of was that his head felt like it had been cleaved in two. A warmth trickled down the side of his face, blood was what the Elven Prince suspected. He could vaguely recall being hit on the side of the temple many times by one of the foul Orcs which had attacked his home.
      His home...
      At this thought, Legolas' eyes blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the dim light within the room. It was cold and a shiver ran through his body. It was not from the temperature however, Elves perceive little of such things, but at the horrid aura this place gave off. Everything around him smelt of decay and death, the very air felt as if it threatened to take his life.

      Legolas struggled to put a hand under his body in an attempt to push himself up, but it faded with the sharp sting of pain. His right shoulder had been broken and the arm lay limply at his side. To make matters worse, his left leg still held an arrow's tip within it's flesh.
      "Fuia Yrchs." ~[Disgusting Orcs.]~ he said, the words barely passing through his parched lips.

      How many days he had lain on the cold stone floor, the prince knew not. But upon a second try and, using the wall as a support, Legolas managed to stumbled to his feet. Not without inviting pain from the arrow wound however and it nearly made him crash back to the ground.
      With a second glance, the Elf could see he was held in a cell, not much bigger than a horse's stall within a barn. Wide iron bars covered the front of the cell and, not far beyond that, a torch lit the hallway. His eyes picked up the image of a door down that hall, a large and very heavy looking iron door.
      Legolas limped toward the bars and found, to his astonishment, that they were actually wide enough for him to squeeze his lithe frame between. But, knowing that it would be his one and only chance of escape, he refrained from leaving just yet. He walked back to the far corner of the cell and sat down, putting a hand on his broken shoulder as he did so. With an agonizing pop and a gasp of pain, the Elf pushed his bone back into place. It still hurt like a fresh knife wound, but at least the pain let up a little.

      "Ae i Yrch tolo ad, im lothron na hur and maeth." ~[If the Orcs come back, I may be ready to fight]~ he said, still holding his wounded shoulder. "Dan garin and penia nin haru minui." ~[But I have to fix my wound first.]~
      With that, he set to work trying to pull the arrow from just above his shin. To keep his mind off the pain, Legolas began to sing. But it was not long before he realized that the song he sang, gave him more heartache and trouble than the position he had just found himself in...

      Na 'Aear, na 'Aear! Mýýl 'lain nallol,
      I sûûl ribiel a i falf 'loss reviol.
      Na annûûn hae, ias Anor dannol.
      Cair vith, cair vith, lastal hain canel,
      Lamath in-gwaithen i gwennin no nin?
      Gwannathon, gwannathon taur i onnant nin;
      dan midui orath víín a dennin inath víín.
      Trevedithon 'aear land erui ciriel.
      falvath enainn bo Mathedfalas dannol,
      Lamath vilui vi Tol Gwannen cannen,
      Vi Tol Ereb, ned Bar-in-Edhil i Edain úú-gennir,
      Ias lais úú-dhannar: dôôr en-gwaith níín an-uir!

      ~[To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
      The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
      West, west away, the round sun is falling.
      Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling.
      The voices of my people that have gone before me?
      I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
      For our days are ending and our years failing.
      I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
      Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
      Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
      In Eressëëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
      Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!]~

      His melodic voice carried the tune up and down, depending on how much pain he caused while tending his injuries. It had been the only thing he could think of to attempt to raise such low spirits, but he had ended up singing a song of the sea. How it pained him to think of the sea, especially when he had not the trees and the stars to comfort him.
      "Ai Elbereth! What I would not give to see the stars!" he said, the sea longing threatening to take hold of him once more.
      He had not the strength to combat the longing in his heart, but as a last attempt, the Elven Prince recited an ancient Elvish hymn.

      A Elbereth Gilthoniel
      silivren penna míriel
      o menel aglar elenath!
      Na-chaered palan-díriel
      o galadhremmin ennorath,
      Fanuilos le linnathon
      nef aear, sí nef aearon

      ~[O Elbereth Starkindler,
      white-glittering,
      sparkling like jewels,
      the glory of the starry host slants down.
      Having gazed far away from the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth,
      to thee, Everwhite, I will sing,
      on this side of the Sea, here on this side of the Ocean]~

      With a click, Legolas' keen hearing picked up the sound of the door, on the far end of the hallway, being opened. He had to approach this carefully, or else he may be hindered from any form of escape. Slowly he heard the footfalls of a man, but the torches had burned so low that only shadow shone upon him. The soft clink clink clink of a staff marched in time with the footfalls.
      Legolas began to wonder who could be bold enough to strike at a powerful Elven kingdom such as Mirkwood. Who in all of Middle-Earth would dare to do such a thing?
      "Guren bed enni im innas u dortha tri i daw..." ~[My mind tells me I will not live through the night...]~ the Elf Prince whispered to himself as a dread crept deeper and deeper into his heart.
      Few things scared Elves so badly and he had not despaired so since the Balrog of Morgoth had attacked within the Mines of Moria.
      Suddenly however, the fear in his heart became a reality as the man stepped from the shadows and into the newly lit torch near the prince’s cell. "Ha pulu no!" ~[It can not be!]~ Legolas cried, his eyes unwilling to see the form standing just feet from him.
      The man smiled, "But it can, Elven Prince. It can indeed." Fear gripped Legolas and every part of him wanted to run. To tell Aragorn that they had not destroyed all evil within Middle-Earth. To find Mithrandir once more and beg the Istar for his help.
      "Ha pulu no!... Saruman!" ~[It can not be!... Saruman!]~