Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

This is the evil plot bunny I spoke of. After being tormented for almost three months, I finally broke down and decided to give it a chance. This is something that just absolutely refused to go away. But it should be kind of short. That said, it is probably not as well-written as my other fictions....

Also, I am not claiming to be original here. Another Aragorn/Legolas. The idea of the poison is from another story I read. I just couldn't remember which one, so if any readers remember, please let me know so I can accredit that author properly =)

Please, please review. I won't continue if I don't get 10 reviews on the prologue since I am aware that this story is unlike all the other things I have written. It is a lot darker and kind of evil...

Warnings:

This is a slash story. Male/male relationship. If you don't like, please don't read.

This story is at this moment rated PG13/R. I am going to tone down most of the sexual content. But given that this story was originally NC-17 in my mind, there will be some.

This story is significantly alternate universe. All the characters are significantly out of character from the book and movies. Aragorn is sort of evil; Legolas is sort of cold-blooded. Also, I moved characters around. I know Saruman is supposed to be in Orthanc and Dol Guldur is supposed to be the base of Sauron as the Necromancer earlier in the Third Age. But please bear with me and my alternate universe.

Rape warning, sort of... No, Legolas is not going to get raped. I am in love with him, remember =) No one touches my Legolas.. (okay, he isn't mine. A girl can dream, right? )

This story is unbeta-ed at the moment, so please forgive its many errors. I proof-read my stuff a number of times before posting, but there will still be mistakes in there. I am putting this in the warning section in case people are offended by grammatical errors =)

Premise:

An ancient prophecy spoke of a Man who held the key to the greatest power in Middle Earth. On his twenty-fifth birthday, this Man would rise to meet his destiny; Arda would once again be united.

Prologue:

"Please, Larien, stay with me," pleaded the King of Mirkwood.

His pregnant Queen was returning from her visit to Lothlòrien when she was attacked by a band of Orcs. She was hit by a poisonous arrow; though the wound was not fatal, the venom was slowing killing the Elf. One by one, the poison destroyed her senses, until its victim lost all feelings and simply faded away.

It was at death's door that the Queen went into labor. The child she had been carrying for the past nine months seemed to have a will of his own. He did not wished to perish with his mother. The King quickly sent for the midwife, hoping to save the babe at least. But before the birthing was finished, Larien breathed her last. The midwife decided to perform surgery to take the babe from the dead Elf's womb, something that had never been done before. The operation was successful; a healthy child was salvaged from the body of the deceased Queen.

But when Thranduil found out what had been done, he considered his youngest son an aberration of nature. He condemned the midwife to exile and gave the babe to the royal nurse with explicit instructions to keep the child out of his sight. As much as the King hated the baby, it was his own flesh and blood. Thranduil would ensure that it was cared for properly. But that was the extent of his attention; he did not even wished to name the child himself. It was the midwife who named the babe Legolas before her sentence was carried out.

Time passed as the young Prince grew up as a shadow in his own palace. All knew of the story of his birth and considered him a bearer of bad luck and destruction. The Elf never knew what it meant to care or to be cared for. He grew up completely devoid of emotions, as if the poison that had taken all his mother's senses had stolen his feelings as well.

It was not long, however, that Thranduil discovered his son's hidden talents. Legolas was a mage. Even at a young age, his powers reveled those of the ancient Elves. Added to his magic were the Prince's physical abilities. Though the Elf had never been through formal training, he could handle most weapons through mimicry alone. It was then that the King saw a use for his hated child.

Through meticulous training, Thranduil transformed his son into an assassin, superior to any in Middle Earth. Wearing the mask of a blue dragon, the young Elf struck fear into the hearts of the enemies of the free peoples of Middle Earth. No matter how dangerous the missions were, Legolas always returned safely, much to the chagrin of his kin. So it was, for over five hundred years, the Prince of Ice existed only for killing... until the day destiny calls.

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The black gates opened as the Nazgûl rode out into the misty night. This night was to be remembered as the darkest in the history of Middle Earth. Thick clouds shielded the world from the silvery moon and glittering stars. It was as if these celestial beings of light knew of the tragedy that was about to happen and were covering their eyes with their gloomy veils of clouds; for they did not have the heart to watch helplessly as the events unfold.

A small group of Men traveled in the pitch darkness of the forest in Southern Mirkwood. The woods were eerily silent. No breeze, tree or creature would make a sound. Stealthily, the hunters of the night stalked their preys, closing their trap, awaiting their opportunity to taste their victims' blood. Out of the blackness of the woods they came, dealing out death on swift wings. Though the Dunedains fought valiantly, they were significantly outnumbered. In a matter of minutes, the forest was still once more, mourning the loss of a great leader of Men. The cries of a single babe broke the somber silence of the night... a child who would shape the future of Middle Earth.

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