Author: elfchick08

Title: Rising Evil

Summary: For centuries Legolas and his father have had a strained relationship. When the best elven archers start going missing, Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn have to save Legolas from this new evil before it destroys his soul.

Disclaimer: I would like to point out that this is NO ONE here owns ANY of these characters. None of us are making any money, and we're all writing to entertain the readers and ourselves. If you honestly believe that I am J.R.R. Tolkein, I suggest you seek some professional help, because with all due respect, the guy is dead. Besides, I'm not that great of an author anyway. Don't sue me, or any of the other authors, please.

Rating: M (I don't really get these ratings...oi vae)

Warnings: This will eventually have a bit of torture, violence, etc. Read at your own risk

Author's Note: This chapter is mostly just an overview of Legolas' history. I made up this history, so it's probably fairly AU, sorry. The other chapters will be a bit more in line with the original books. Sort of. Not really. Also, this is my first story on fanfiction, so any criticism is welcome. Please review. Oh yeah, and I have only written the prologue to the story. I'm working on the rest. I won't be posting any more until I'm either finished, at least five chapters into the story, or randomly feel like updating. I just wanted to see how people like this story to know if I should continue or not.



The darkness of night had arrived, and the bright stars were shining over the treetops of the once-great realm of Mirkwood. Far below the treetops an elf was lying in the grass, staring up at the stars, humming their song softly to himself. The elf's hair was long and golden, shimmering in the faint light of the stars. Graced with the fairest of features, he was a sight to behold. Only his silver-blue eyes betrayed the deep sorrow within him, carefully hidden from all other beings. This sorrowful aura added to him a special beauty.

Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze and the elf's youthful face tensed for a moment. With a heavy sigh and one last glance at his beloved stars, the young elf rose gracefully, then disappeared into the trees. No marks were left behind, no traces would be found of the elven visitor that night. Neither would the trees betray their dear prince.

For indeed, the elf was a prince. Legolas was his name, the only child of King Thranduil. The young prince had only recently become a captain in the ranks of Mirkwood, leading patrols to hold the spreading shadow at bay. Long before he had become captain, when he had just earned his warrior braids, Legolas had participated in the largest archery competition of the Elven realms. Elves from all realms had gathered to prove themselves as archers. As the youngest participant in the games, Legolas was not expected to advance very far. That day Legolas shocked everyone by winning the tournament even though he was nearly five hundred years younger than all the other elves.

Yet even this tremendous victory was not enough for the young prince's father. Legolas was constantly pushing himself harder and farther than any being should have to, trying to win his father's respect. But nothing he did was ever good enough for the stubborn king of Mirkwood. All of Legolas' efforts merely raised the king's expectations for his son. Since the death of Mirkwood's queen and the young prince's fifty-year disappearance, Thranduil was never satisfied.

Legolas' mother and her guards were slaughtered by orcs as they were returning from Rivendell. Legolas was only seventy-five at the time, barely old enough to have started his warrior training. He was the sole survivor of the attack, where he had been captured and taken to Dol Guldor. The young prince suffered greatly in the fifty years he was an unwilling slave of the Necromancer. The orcs beat him frequently, until one night he returned to his cell too abused to live on. Elbereth, creator of stars, and Yavanna, creator of trees, came to him and took him to Valinor. He was brought before the full council of Valar, who debated about his future. In the end, they had decided Legolas needed to return to Middle Earth and fulfill his destiny. Elbereth and Yavanna had blessed him, naming him Child of the Stars and Prince of the Trees. Namos granted him one day and night in the Halls of Waiting with his mother and grandfather before returning him to his proper place.

King Thranduil was gladdened by the return of his lost son, although deep down he blamed Legolas for the death of the queen. The king set a high standard for his son, and often came across as cold, uncaring, and overly controlling. Legolas tried for years to figure out what he had done wrong. Indeed, Legolas had done naught wrong. He grew into a compassionate, intelligent, and highly skilled elf. Never could he decipher the reasons behind his father's coldness, but pushed himself harder in hopes of making his father proud. Thus even a minor mistake made Legolas severely reprimand himself, though no others, save the prince's father, would fault him for it.

Now, a faint sense of rebellion, born of frustration, filled the young elf's being. Nearly every night he left his room, seeking the peaceful refuge of the trees, despite his father's demands to stay in his room when night falls. He had also befriended the kindhearted man and adopted son of Elrond, Estel. For centuries Legolas had been friends with Lord Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, so it was only natural that he would develop a friendship with their younger brother. King Thranduil had never been too fond of Lord Elrond, and had long disliked his son's friendship with the twins. Even worse were his feelings toward Estel, for the king felt naught but hatred toward the race of men. Once he had expressly forbidden Legolas from befriending the young human, but Legolas did not obey him. In time, he would be glad of his son's friends, who varied in race.

Far from Mirkwood, a man dressed in black, with a face covered by scars and dark eyes that emitted such a sense of evil that even the bravest of men or elves would run, was plotting against the elven archers of Middle Earth. His business was slave trading, and the best elven archers would fetch a high price. After conversing with many men throughout the land, he had decided which elves he and his men would take.

Not too many nights later, the best archer of the Teleri elves went missing.


Author's Note: Please review. I'm not going to know what I'm doing right or wrong unless you tell me. Humor me and if you read this, let me know. Thank you to all of my readers, even those of you who ignore my pleas and don't review.