Chapter 68

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Last chapter...!!! Well, then there's gonna be an epilogue. Anyways, longest chapter yetttt! (10,000 words!!)

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Legolas froze horror-stricken by the sight in front of him. Amid the chaos, more chaos had ensued—the honor guard had fallen.

Every member of Aragorn's vanguard had fallen to the uur rauko, screaming in agony and fear on the ground. The demons had pounced, trapping their prey on the bloody rock surface with their claws, fiery tongue melting flesh. Some of the soldiers, a lucky few, had managed to stick their sword through the rib cage of the demons on top of them, the gleaming point of the sword shining with black blood. But those who managed to do so could barely roll the demon body off them before blacking out or moaning in pain, waiting for death to claim them. The breath in Legolas' chest vanished—Gimli was one of the victims, an uur rauko on his chest.

It's Dol Guldur all over again.

He blinked, seeing Casdir and all the other elves who had been tortured pass before his eyes. The soldier's screams pierced his elven ears as blood welled underneath dark talons, as flesh boiled.

Aragorn stood in the center of the attack, his soldiers screaming in pain around him as he was helpless to do anything. But he wasn't looking towards them, or even towards Gimli bellowing underneath the jaws of an uur rauko.

His gaze was ahead, eyes on a figure armored in black, stark white hair flowing in the breeze.

Legolas' knees almost buckled.

She was smiling.

Malice lit her eyes. Her pale skin had bruises, blood spattering over scabs. Even though he could see the familiarities; the scab under her eye, the light scar on her neck, the curve of her nose, the lone freckle by her right eye—she was a stranger. The curve of curls in her hair was gone, her once soft hair instead hung in sad limps. Her once pink lips were now chapped and had signs of bleeding. And the fun, caring woman he knew was gone. Instead, a monster had taken her place.

"Isildur's heir," she mused, that taunting smile still in place. She placed the tip of her sword—Gorthaden—in the blood-spilled dust and leaned slightly on it. "You didn't fall to the ring, yet this is all you can muster? Your ancestors are turning in their graves, Aragorn. I suspect they'll want to have a discussion with you once someone I know sends you to meet them in a short while."

Legolas didn't breathe as her unfamiliar green eyes turned to him. "And a prince of a falling realm again unable to save his friends from the Dark Lord, just like all those years ago. A murderer."

Casdir flashed before him. He tasted blood.

Satisfied, she turned to her monsters. Shadows danced on her fingers, vibrantly alive. She raised her hand, that darkness wreathing her wrist and up her arm, and motioned aside. Through the dancing blackness, Legolas saw a black ring, a glimmer of something alive to it. He knew immediately what it must've been.

The uur rauko did as she silently told them, backing away from their victims. Although they followed her whims, they trembled, some even managed to take a step towards those who lay unfinished from their mutilations. Yet that unfailing smile on her unhealthy lips never faltered.

Some of the fallen soldiers were silent and unmoving, others were moaning or screaming. Gimli was one of the silent ones. Whether his friend had blacked-out from the pain or had met an even worse fate, Legolas and Aragorn didn't know. But blood spilled from his shoulder where the uur rauko had held him in place with claws and the side of his face and scalp were raw and bleeding from the demon's burning tongue, his skin boiled beyond recognition.

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