Chapter 23

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    We met up with Old Man with the white-brimmed hat. Apparently, his name is Gandalf. We sat at the foot of a cliff, my companions sitting on a boulder nearby. I, however, sat on a different boulder with my legs crossed. I gazed towards the green tree-tops. The birds are so lovely today with their chirping and all.

My gaze switched over towards the southeast where Mordor lies. That is my next destination.

I stiffened as I heard feet padded on the rock as a presence approached. Two more followed it.

"Legolas," an old and soft voice said. I looked up, my fingers stopping with their playing on the fletching of one of my arrows.

"Legolas," Gandalf repeated.

"Yes?"

The old wizard looked to my companions, Aragorn and Gimli, "how long has he been like this?"

"Since the night before we entered Fangorn," Aragorn replied. Something in me wanted to feel concerned. But no, I can't think of that right now. How am I going to get to Mordor?

I tuned out their voices. Their voices keep interrupting my thoughts. I stared at the ball of flame in the sky as it descended towards the horizon. I turned my ears back to what the Old Man speaking.

"Saruman has threatened the Men of Rohan and draws off their help from Minas Tirith, even as the main blow is approaching from the East. We must ride for Rohan."

Some small, buried part of me retaliated at those words. Words bubbled up in my throat and burst from my lips.

"No! We cannot Ride for Rohan! We must ride for Isengard! To save the hobbits and Lumornel!"

The three males turned to me, surprised.

I gaped at them, "how could you turn your back on four innocent lives?!"

Gimli turned to Mithrandir, "aye, he's right. And if we ride for Isengard, Legolas can hand over the Ring to Sam."

Aragorn began nodding, "Yes, yes. I agree that it is a reasonable thing to do. And I cannot bear to see Legolas in this state. If it's true that Frodo was able to carry the Ring for the amount of time he did and not lose his mind... then maybe Sam can do the same. He can be your redeemer."

I saw red and shot to my feet. Rage filled me. I was to carry the Ring! Not Sam! Not any other hobbit or person! Me! Me!

"Legolas?" Aragorn's eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine!" I snapped and walked to the tree line, leaving Gandalf and the others to ponder over the new option that has arisen.

My plan to go straight to Mordor has been hindered... but once we... once we rescue the hobbits and Lumornel... I will go to Mordor. I will not give Sam the Ring. Nor anyone else but Sauron. Sauron can help me. He can help me protect my friends and family. He must. A-and if he doesn't--if he doesn't, then I will use the Ring against him.

The wind ruffled my hair, softly sighing against my scalp. I delighted the feeling. Back home in Mirkwood, I used to climb the trees just to feel the wind on my skin, in my hair.

My ears twitched as I heard Gandalf say, "very well, we head for Isengard at dawn. But first, we rest."

*********

After having awoken after that dream-that-was-real, I stayed awake for the rest of the cold night. Every noise startled me and threatened to send me over the edge. Eventually, Melnárë stopped trying to question me, but I suspected she didn't fall back asleep. I'm pretty sure she kept an eye on me the whole time. And the fact that she did that didn't help my fear subside. In fact, it made it worse. The feeling of having someone watching me made my skin crawl--and not in a good way.

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