“LEGOLAS!”

          There it was again – his name.  He could distinctly hear someone shouting his name.  He was not dreaming.  It was a real voice; a voice he recognized – Aragorn’s voice.  But where was it coming from?  Legolas looked about him and could see nothing but a gray emptiness, as if he had stepped into a cloud on a dark, stormy day.

          “Aragorn!” he shouted into the fog.  “Aragorn!  Where are you?”

          As soon as he concentrated his thoughts on the ranger and turned them to images of the young human, Legolas could feel his ghostly body being yanked back into the swirling mists.  He relaxed and allowed the sensation to overwhelm him and he was swiftly whisked away into the maelstrom of the dense gray nothingness.  Seconds later he was jerked to a halt, and there, standing before him, was the Dúnadan ranger.

          “Aragorn!” he shouted with genuine joy and relief.

          Strider whirled about at the sound of his name and stared with stunned disbelief at the translucent image of Legolas floating in the mists before his eyes.  “Legolas!” he called, taking a short, tentative step toward his pale, and now, extremely insubstantial friend.

          “You can hear me?  You can see me?” questioned the Elf, his eyes imploring, not daring to hope too soon or too strongly that this was so.

          “Yes, yes, Legolas,” Strider assured his friend.  “I can hear you… and see you… but you are,” he hesitated, unsure what to say should the Elf not yet realize that he no longer occupied his body.  “not yourself.”

          Legolas glanced down at his wavering, wraithlike form and his eyes widened.  Until this moment, he had not really wanted to consider what this present state of being represented.  His frightened, questioning gaze lifted to the ranger’s face.

          “Am I dead then?”

          “No, no, you’re not dead,” Strider paused just a moment too long.  “At least, I don’t think so.”

          Legolas’ elegant eyebrow arched and his lip twisted into a wry smirk.  In spite of the dire circumstances in which they now found themselves and the horrifying reality that Legolas was some sort of spirit existing outside his body, Strider emitted a short, snorting laugh and shook his head in amazement.

          “Well, if you can still give me that look, then I know you’re not dead.”   Legolas gazed back at him with an innocence that Strider knew was disingenuous, but chose to ignore.  Instead he hastened to divulge the witch-woman’s instructions.  “Legolas, you must listen to me.  You are in great danger, mellon nin.”   He took another tenuous step toward the wavering form of the Elf.  “You must return to your body at once.”

          Legolas seemed agitated by this request and his form began to fade in and out of the shadows.   Afraid that he would disappear altogether, Strider reached forward to grab hold of his friend’s forearm, but his fingers came away with nothing but air.  “Wait!  Legolas!  Please, you must listen to me.”

          Within his mind, Strider could hear the forceful words of the ancient Drughu Woman’s husky voice speaking to him.  ‘You must guide him back to his body, young warrior.  Do not let him flee into the mist!’  

          “How?” he asked aloud, unaware that Legolas could not hear the strange woman’s voice within his head.

          “How what?” asked Legolas, a perplexed frown on his ghostly face.

          ‘The Firstborn can sense the psychic pull of his earthbound body.  He must surrender to that feeling.  He must return to his body at once, before the Nameless One severs the tie forever!’  

          “Surrender to the feeling,” Strider echoed the woman’s words, nodding his head as he listened to a voice only he could hear.

          “What feeling?  Strider, what are you going on about?”  Legolas gave the young man an irritated glance and then turned his gaze to the dark shadows that surrounded them and tried to penetrate the thick, murky clouds.  “Where are we?”

          Distracted by the prince's voice, Strider glanced up at the Elf.  “What?  Oh, the Shadow World; we’re in the Shadow World.  I was somehow transported here by the Drughu witch-woman.  She is telling me you must return to your body.  Quickly!  She says you can feel its pull.  Go to it, Legolas!  Go now!”

          Legolas withdrew in horror.  “No, no…I cannot go back there!”  His frantic eyes pleaded with Strider to understand.  “Something took it; something evil.  Strider, I dare not go back.  I cannot… I cannot fight them any longer.  You cannot know the pain they cause.  I cannot endure more…”  He quickly turned away and Strider felt a jolt of icy fear run through him at the thought of Legolas abruptly taking flight.

          The woman’s urgent, commanding voice rang within his head.  ‘Do not let him flee!  He will be lost to us forever!’

          “Wait!” Strider shouted.  “Legolas!  Come back to me!”

          Legolas’ shimmering form turned and he looked back at the ranger, his expression lost and forlorn.  And then without warning, the Elf’s body flew through the mists directly toward the young man.  Before Strider knew what was happening, the glimmering image of Legolas slammed into him full tilt and the force of the collision knocked the ranger backward, leaving him breathless and shaken.   Strider was caught completely off guard by this unexpected assault and shocked to feel the bruising pain that accompanied the attack.  He could feel his body falling backward, but it never seemed to reach the ground and his arms started flailing as he tried in vain to regain his balance.   He could not breathe, and the more he tried to suck in air, the more his lungs refused to function.  He could feel his consciousness slipping away and then everything went black.  

///////////////////////

          Strider first became aware of the firmness beneath his back and then a pungent odor mixed with smoke and ash, wafted through his nostrils making his nose twitch.  He could hear several different voices speaking, but whether they were in his mind and imagined, or very near where he lay and real, he could not determine.  His head ached abominably and there was a tight, heavy pressure constricting his chest, making it extremely difficult to breathe.

          “I think he’s coming ‘round.”

          “Lift his head, yes, like that.  Let him breathe this in.”

          “What happened to him?”

          “I do not know, but I fear we have lost the Elf.”

          At this last statement, Strider shook his aching head and tried to rouse his body, but found that he was still too weak and the effort was too great.  Instead he managed to mumble a few raspy words.

          “No.  No,” he gasped.

          Mithrandir glanced at Tharcuru.  “Is the drug still affecting his mind?”

          “I do not believe so,” she answered.  “Try to get him to drink this tea.”

          Strider could feel strong arms sliding under his back and cradling his neck and then his torso was lifted upward.  His head flopped backward and then he could feel a hand being placed under his head and supporting his neck.  Once his chest was slightly elevated, his breathing seemed to ease and he chanced opening his eyelids.  The gray shadows were no longer surrounding him.  Two white blurry faces were staring down at him and he knew that he had returned to Tharcuru’s cave.

          “Ah, he’s awake,” Mithrandir sighed with relief.  “Here my boy, drink this down.”

          Always leery of potions disguised as ‘tea’, Strider clenched his lips together and shook his head.  The wizard chuckled, knowing the reason for the young ranger’s reluctance and smiled reassuringly.

          “It is only tea, nothing more.”

          “That’s what Ada always says,” Strider grumbled, but he allowed the Istari to place the cup to his dry lips.  After a tentative sip, he found that it was indeed just tea and he drank the contents down.  Surprisingly enough, once he had finished the tea, he began to feel much better; even the headache’s iron grip around his brow seemed to have lessened.

          Strider looked at the grim faces before him and his brief feeling of elation quickly faded.  “What happened?  What went wrong?”

          “We were about to ask you that very question,” answered the wizard.  His deep concern for the ranger was evident upon his face yet his mind was full of questions.

          Strider glanced at the ancient woman.  Her white eyes were looking directly at him and he felt a shiver run down his back.   Her face, however, was an impassive mask.

          The young man turned back to the wizard.  “Legolas was there.  I could see and hear him, but he looked like a phantom.  I could not touch him.  I could see… through him,” his eyes expressed his astonishment at witnessing this phenomenon.

          He turned to the woman and spoke again.  “I told him what you said to me; that he should return to his body, but the very idea of this seemed to terrify him.  He said his body was taken over by something evil; that he could not go back.”

          The woman lowered her head with a saddened frown.  “Then he has fled and is forever lost to us.”

          ‘I have not fled.  I am with you.  Tell her.’  

          Strider jerked upright as Legolas’ voice echoed within his head.  “What?!”

          ‘You great oaf!  Tell them I am in your body!   And I can’t say I’m enjoying it overmuch.’

          Strider’s face paled and his hands flew upward and tentatively touched first his head and then moved down over his chest and finally to his abdomen.  “W-w-where?” he yelped.   His voice held a panicky quaver and his silver eyes looked aghast.

          ‘Oh don’t go on so, Aragorn.  There’s plenty of room for both of us in here.’  

          Strider gave the Istari a horrified stare.  “Gandalf!  It’s Legolas.  He says… he says he’s inside me!  How can he be inside me?!”

          Mithrandir sat up quickly.  “Oh, dear,” he exclaimed.

          Both wizard and warrior looked to the Drughu Woman.  At Strider’s first exclamation, she had turned her gaze upon him with wonder and astonishment.  Now she spoke and a slight smile came to her thin lips.

          “I did not think this possible.  The Firstborn is quite resourceful.  Perhaps this course of action will serve us to greater purpose.”  She looked directly at Strider.  “By entering your body the Elf’s soul remains here within the planes of earthly existence.   Hidden inside your body he will be out of the reach of the evil that has stolen his form.  You can keep him close and safe until we drive the evil from his body and he can return to it unharmed.”

          Strider looked ill.  “And just how long will this take?”

          ‘You sound as if you wish to be rid of me,’ came Legolas’ pouting voice.

          “I do!” Strider replied, and then seeing Mithrandir’s puzzled face and the woman’s questioning gaze, he hurried on.  “I mean… I do… hope you have a plan of some kind?”

          “Ah,” the woman sighed as she placed her hands upon her knees, preparing for a long dialogue.  “That is what we must decide and quickly.”

          “We shall do whatever you ask of us,” said Mithrandir.

          “Then first, let me tell you what It is you face.  This evil is an elemental force, formed when the earth was born.  It is a force of nature; It can cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, shifting the earth's shelves and masses.  It resides deep within the earth’s very core and in the natural balance of Eä, It is a necessary element for change; but released as It has been into the upper world, It disturbs the harmony of all things.

          “In Its natural state, It has no form and is but a dark, malignant presence.  It is like a spoiled, unruly child, only wanting, only thinking of Its needs and desires.  It has no moral concepts or conscience of any kind and It cares nothing for the sanctity of any life force other than Its own.  It can bend the earth to Its will, displacing time as It shifts realities.  It can deceive and betray.

          “It was never meant to be aware, but now that It has a corporeal body – an immortal body – It can become a power so deadly that It could destroy the world as we know it.  Already It is drawing upon the evil that exists within our realms.  They feed on Its energy and It, in turn, grows stronger as It gains control of their will and thought.  We cannot allow this malevolence to spread beyond the Mirkwood Palace.  It must be returned to the pits from whence It came and order must be restored.”

          “The Mirkwood Palace,” Mithrandir questioned.  “You believe It is still in the palace?”

          “Oh, indeed,” she nodded her silver head.  “As I have said, It can change our realities by bending time, changing space, so that we seem to move through time when in fact we have never left.”

          ‘So, I never was lost; it was the forest that changed around us.  Then all this time I must have been within the dungeons beneath the palace.’ 

          Strider was trying to follow the words spoken aloud by the Drughu Woman and listen as well to those uttered within his skull.  I was in the lower dungeons with your father only this morning; you were not there, he thought back to the voice inside his head.

          ‘My father?  Why would my father take you to the dungeons?’  

          “He wanted me to see something,” Strider murmured aloud, forgetting that Mithrandir and Tharcuru could also hear his words.

          “What was that you said?” the wizard asked.

          “What?  Oh, nothing, nothing.  I was just thinking back on something.”  He quickly changed the subject.  “If this thing does indeed reside within the lower dungeons of Mirkwood Palace, just how are we going to send it back to the abyss without killing Legolas’ body?” asked Strider.

          ‘Killing my body!’  The Elf’s voice rang sharply within his skull and Strider winced.  He quickly sent his thoughts back to the Elf.

          Will you be quiet! I’m not going to let them kill your body.  Let me think!

          Tharcuru turned her sightless gaze upon the ranger and Strider had to concentrate on her words and try to ignore the internal stirrings of his Elven intruder. He could feel Legolas moving around within his mind and was not sure that he relished the idea of the Elf knowing his innermost thoughts.

          “Its desires are primitive and base and It is not overly clever.  It can be fooled.”  She turned her gaze to the Istari.  “We will have to trick It into leaving Its current body and entering into mine.”

          “It will never do that,” Strider blurted out.  “It has an immortal Elvish body.  Why would It want to enter…” he cut his words off in mid-sentence, but too late, the meaning was clear.

          “An old crone’s body?” Tharcuru supplied for him, a slight, throaty chuckle emerging from her thin lips.

          Strider’s face flushed a bright crimson, and he started stammering.  “I, I meant no offense, I, I…”

          ‘You are such a nit!’ came Legolas’ chiding remark.  Strider started to retort, but wisely closed his mouth instead.  The old woman finally came to his rescue.

          “You do not offend me young warrior.  Were I you, I would think the same.  However, what It sees will not be what is real.”

          “Of course!” came Mithrandir’s amused laughter as understanding came to him.

          Strider looked from the wizard to the old woman with confusion.  “Of course what?”

          Mithrandir’s merry eyes twinkled with delight.  “Tharcuru is a skin-changer.”  When Strider continued to stare at him with a baffled frown, he continued.  “A shape shifter.  Tharcuru can alter her appearance at will.”

          Tharcuru nodded her confirmation of the wizard’s explanation.  “The Nameless Thing desires the light more than anything because in the depths of the earth’s core there is no light.  I will appear to It in a form that would rival Varda herself.  It will not be able to resist the temptation.

          “But we must draw it to a place deep within the earth where there is a naturally occurring opening leading down into the depths.  Once there I will lure It from the body of the Firstborn and into my own.”

          At this point in her narrative, Tharcuru turned to face the ranger.  Her face was stern and commanding.  “Once It has left the Elf’s body and entered mine you will have one last onerous task, young warrior; one that you must swear to fulfill.”

          Strider looked into her frightening milky eyes and spoke quietly.  “What is this task you ask of me?

          Her stare did not falter.  “You must kill me.”

          “I cannot!” Strider shouted with horror.  His stricken gaze turned to the Istari.  “Gandalf, I cannot take her life - not even to save Legolas.”  He turned back to the ancient woman.  “He would never allow me to take a life to save his own.”

          “But you must,” she replied.  “The Nameless Thing can only enter a body if the owner’s psyche has fled, or with weaker minds, allows It entrance, but once inside, should that body die, in order to survive It must find a new host, or It will be forever lost to the void.  At the moment It leaves the Elf’s body, your friend must return to it and reclaim it, blocking the Nameless One’s re-entry.  Then you must kill me at once, trapping It within my lifeless form.”

          Her gaze shifted to Mithrandir.  “Once I am dead, wizard, you must see that my body is cast into the chasm and the portal closed over me for all time.”

          She turned back to Strider and placed a firm hand upon the ranger’s arm.  His anguished eyes watched her ancient face and his mind raced, trying to find another solution that would not incur her death.

          She smiled slightly and then spoke quietly.  “Do not be distressed because of me, young warrior.  I am old and I am dying.  My time upon this world is ending.  I must serve Eä by making this final sacrifice before I am free to journey onward.  You will help me to do this.”

          Strider could only nod his head, not willing just yet to trust his voice.  Tharcuru placed a cool palm against his cheek and he covered her frail hand with his own.  She smiled at him and spoke softly to him alone.  “You are the hope of this world, young warrior, and many a test and trial will befall you.  This is but one.”