Once more with the fires, the dream never changed. Mirkwood was consumed by the terrible blaze. This portion of Legolas' dream, he had become quite accustomed to. But there was one part of these prophetic dreams that paralyzed him. The words Saruman would speak to open the Elven Realm, for his own twisted purposes, always changed. They had never been the same. It scarred the prince, for he knew that deep down, he himself had the power to break the seal on the realm... if only he knew what that power was. Somehow, Legolas believed that this power was present within any of Oropher's line. Though, this thought was even more disturbing because the prince found himself fearing for poor Legolia.

      Suddenly, the Elf felt his dream changing. This came as a surprise for he had yet to witness his own death. His chest however, began to ache as a searing pain rippled throughout his entire body. Legolas' hand immediately went to his heart, only to find, to his horror, blood was seeping through his exposed flesh and onto the floor.

      Looking up, Legolas locked eyes with Saruman. It was only then that the prince realized he himself had a large gaping hole in his chest. Legolas' heart was missing, and Saruman stood before him, holding that vital organ. The prince crumpled to the floor, landing once again in a pool of his own blood.

      The shock of his own death was enough to awaken the prince. Legolas sat up in bed with a start. His breathing was shattered and pained as air forced its way to his lungs. Sweat trickled down Legolas' brow and he felt himself shiver in the cold night. Looking over to the balcony, the prince watched as lightning rippled through the trees outside. It only added an eerie touch to the horrors he had witnessed within his mind only moments before.

      Legolas found that he shivered uncontrollably and, try as he might, the prince could not get warm again. Standing, he paced to one of the room's dressers and poured a glass of wine from a pitcher which sat atop it But even a sip of the warm red liquid was not enough to fend off the bitting cold which Legolas felt and he found himself standing, hugging his arms. He was in shock, he knew it, but it had been just a dream.

      The prince was overcome with an urge to be ill. He had seen his own heart, ripped and bloody, held as a trophy from one of the only people whom he could truly call an enemy. It made Legolas sick to think of such a grotesque display and he slowly sat against the wall. Staring out the balcony, the prince watched as thunder heads drifted over the tree tops, sending the entire palace into an even darker abyss than night normally afforded. He shivered again, something was wrong.

      Shaking his head, the prince spoke to himself, "Calm down. It 'twas but a dream and nothing more." but try as he might, he could not convince his tormented mind that everything was alright.

      Legolas stood, setting the glass of wine upon the dresser top and walking to the door. A relaxing walk through the palace would make him feel better, or so he thought. It was uncommon for an Elf, especially one of royalty, to walk about the palace in their sleeping garments, but Legolas could care less. Slipping out into the hallway in his bare feet, the prince began to walk silently and stealthily through the halls.

      The fresh air would do him good, he thought. So, after pacing through the Mirkwood Palace hallways for what seemed like ages, Legolas ventured outside.

      The air was clean and smelled of freshly fallen rain, which must have occurred when the prince had been taking his midnight stroll. Rushing up to the nearest tree, Legolas scaled it's branches and settled himself into a comfortable position. Nothing would disturb his thoughts up in the safe confines of the forest. At least, not until the morning any way. Settled against a comfortable branch, Legolas leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

      "What I would not give for one night's peace." He whispered, opening his eyes again and looking out over the kingdom.

      Not a soul was awake and, with so few Elves who could be ready to fight, they had not even bothered to set but two guards at the main city gates. However, if anyone tried to get in, the entire kingdom would know of it in moments.

      Knowing that he was as safe within the trees as in his own bed, Legolas let himself drift into the dreams of Elf kind, hoping against hope that his rest would not be plagued by nightmares once more.