And I'm back:D Who missed me::cricket chirp:: …Yea, that doesn't surprise me. Anywho, here is the sequel to 'Lost in My Mind'. So, if you are new and haven't read the prequel to this, you might want to go back and read it. Enjoy!

To my older reviewers, revamping is still happening on LIMM, albeit slowly. Be sure to check back occasionally. :D

Disclaimer: LOTR does not belong to me. I don't own anything except my original characters.

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Chapter 1- Heart of Fire

No…this couldn't be happening…what was going on?

Faces were everywhere, laughing faces that leapt out at him from the dark corners of the cramped room. Bright, yellow eyes danced in the shadows and the sound of talons upon stone echoed in the chamber, ringing in his sensitive ears. Bony fingers pulled at his clothing and his hair, but he was not able to scream. Tears rolled down his cheeks, dampening the ground beneath him, and his mouth was opened wide to cry for help. But no matter what he did, he could not more nor speak. He was helpless, lying in a place that was wholly unfamiliar to him. He feared that his heart would burst at the rate it was pounding.

The sound of steel sliding steel came from behind him and he struggled to sit up, but found himself unable to do so. His wrists and ankles had been chained to a nonexistent floor, and he was vulnerable to the jabbing fingers. Heavy footsteps made his way towards him, but he could not distinguish where they were coming from; the echoes in the room made it impossible to do so. He was then aware of a presence kneeling beside him, and he could sense malice and hate pouring from its body. He thrashed violently yet hopelessly, trying desperately to get away, but the chains would not budge. Cold steel was placed upon his neck, and only when he fel wipe cruelly against his burning flesh was he able to let lose a blood-curdling scream for help into the dark abyss.

"Legolas!" He cried, his body jolting from the shock of death. He kicked frantically against his attacker, but soon realized that he had regained mobility of his limbs. Immediately, his hands went to his throat and touched it, examining it for its wound. But when he pulled his fingers away, there was no blood as he expected there to be. His heart began to slow, and he began to become aware of his surroundings. Blinking rapidly, he sat up quickly and gazed around.

A small ray of moonlight filtered in through the glass windows, silk curtains billowing gently against the cool breeze. The sound of night birds and crickets were outside, but there was still a peaceful sort of silence. All signs of groping hands and shining eyes were gone, and the only thing he felt was the warm cloth of his nightclothes.

Flopping back down onto his pillow, he sighed tiredly and touched his neck once again to feel a small scar along the side, "Ai, what a dream." He muttered to himself. He looked over to his side, hoping to find a particular someone beside him, but remembered that she had left days ago. A frustrated frown marred his face and he set his eyes upon the ceiling, "That's why I didn't want to propose."

For a moment, he toyed with the idea of attempting to fall back to sleep, but knew that it would be senseless. Instead, he swung the thin sheets off his body and set his feet on the floor. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the balls of his palms, then stumbled his way across the large room to grab a long robe from the back of a couch and then headed out into the hall.

As he walked, he gazed upon the numerous paintings and banners that adorned the walls with a new sort of appreciation. Even still, he was thankful to be back among his people, even if a good part of them were still in the care of the healers. He made it a habit to walk and speak with them everyday, just to assure them that the royal family still cared and wished for their wellbeing. And having experienced it first hand himself, he knew that he was the perfect candidate for this job.

He came to his brother's door without even realizing the time go by, and he stood before it, wondering what his decision would cause. The young elf prince had been aggravated of late, speaking to no one about anything, and it was beginning to irritate all who had business with him. On one occasion, a young maid had come to collect his dirty bedding, but he promptly snapped at her and drove her out of the room. Such behavior was unacceptable for a prince.

Hardening his resolve, he grabbed hold of the knob and twisted, pushing the door open, and he peered inside. Not to his surprise, he found the one he sought standing upon the balcony on the far side of the room, his hair billowing about in the crisp wind like golden blades of grass in a meadow. He knew that his brother sensed his presence, for his calm demeanor was suddenly snatched away and replaced with frustration.

"Legolas?" The Crown Prince called as he shut the door behind him. His skin tingled and prickled at the wave of animosity sent his way. Tentatively, he stepped towards the younger elf and came upon the balcony, standing a foot away from him, "What has you up?"

A dangerous snarl was his only reply. The older elf's lips thinned and his eyes rolled heavenward.

"I take it you would prefer to be treated like an animal, is that it?" He drawled sarcastically. His brother's shoulders tensed, and he smirked in response, "Very well. Legolas, come!" No response, "Speak!"

"I do not have to answer to the likes of you."

"Ah, that's a good lad." The elf teased, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. His fair skin had quickly begun to burn from the sharp breezes, "Now, come inside and I will find a treat for you."

There was another aggravated growl from the younger prince, "Why don't you try a little maturity, Nóruion?" This time, it was the Crown Prince's turn to glare.

"I was only trying to cheer you up, little brother." He shot back, "But if you plan to continue this bitter attitude of yours, I suggest at least enlightening us on what has gotten your leggings in a knot."

"Don't talk to me like that." Legolas muttered, "I'm not a child."

"I know you are not, Gwador, so don't act like one." He answered, his voice considerably softer. Cautiously, as if approaching a cornered wolf, he came up beside the younger ellon and placed his hands on the banister, gazing out into the dark forest, "Why will you not speak of what ails you? We only wish to help."

"I do not ask for it."

"But you will receive it nonetheless."

Legolas suddenly snapped his head towards his brother, his cerulean eyes shining with anger, and the Crown Prince recoiled slightly, "Will I, now?" He repeated, spitting out his words, "And what if I refuse it? Will you simply come up with some other seemingly intelligent philosophy to throw in my face in an attempt to gain enough sympathy that I may open up?" His lips curled back in a snarl, "Not this time, Nórui."

"Legolas!" Nórui called in frustration as the young elf turned his back to him, storming back into the dark chamber. Sighing heavily, the Crown Prince shook his head in exasperation before following, "You must speak eventually, you know. Or I could always talk to Espenshade."

"She will tell you nothing." He ground out from somewhere in the dark.

Casually, the Crown Prince leaned up against a cherry wood dresser and watched as the other ellon took a long match from his nightstand, struck it, and put flame to an elegant oil lamp. He waited for his brother to get comfortable on the bed before speaking again.

"Then perhaps I would get more information from Jaimea?"

That seemed to strike a nerve, for the tension in the air had suddenly grown to a stifling amount. The elf even stood up straight in case his brother decided to lash out at him, but he never did. He did not need actions to express his bitterness.

"Legolas…" Nórui started apprehensively.

"Get out." The prince said slowly, biting back his true emotions.

"I only want to-"

"I said, get out!" Legolas shouted, whirling around to glare daggers at the older ellon. His teeth bared, he grabbed the neck of the oil lamp and held it in the air, poised to throw it if needed, "Now!"

The Crown Prince gazed long and hard at the elf, his eyes questioning, yet he received no answer. Exhaling through his nose, he nodded curtly and strode fro m the room, shutting the door calmly so as not to reveal his raging frustration with his brother.

When the sounds of the elf's footsteps in the hall died away, Legolas sighed tiredly and lowered the lamp, replacing it back on the nightstand. His bright eyes reflected the light of the flickering flames, dancing across the surfaces, but the elf shut his eyes against it. He fell back onto the bed, his golden hair fanning wildly about him like a halo, and he bit his bottom lip until he felt a small drop of blood on his tongue. What was wrong with him? Why did he turn his brother's help away? He only wanted him to be happy.

It wasn't his business to begin with, the prince thought, pushing his previous wonderings away. He could take care of his own problems, without him.

But even so, he felt his heart grow cold and his mind wander into shadows. It was true; ever since that day, he had secluded himself from everyone, even his best friend: Espenshade. The young Muruien who only wished to be with him, forsaking her family so that she may fulfill her promise to the prince's late mother, yet he pushed even her away. She had questioned him about his odd disposition, but he snapped at her, and she returned the favor by giving him the cold shoulder. The only one whom he truly trusted to keep secrets was ignoring him.

And then when his brother had mentioned her, he completely lost his composure. The root of all his troubles, he never wanted to hear her name again, not even in his mind. She was a liar, couldn't be trusted, and yet he did not hate her; he could not. Instead, his hatred was directed at himself. He had fallen head over heels in love with her, thus being taken in by her guile. She played him for an idiot, and he allowed her to do it.

Jaimea, sister to his mother's murderer and to the one who tore his family apart. He never wanted to see her, to speak to again. She was nothing to him. He would never fall for her tricks again.

Never.

XX

Well, that was a positive chapter, wasn't it? But even so, I think it is a good start for the new story. Sorry it took so long to get out, but I've been very busy. And also, the chapters may not be much longer than this. At the most, ten or eleven pages, because I don't want my beta to abandon me, lol. Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of LIMM's sequel, 'Dark Side of the Moon'!

Oh, and this author LOVES reviews!

Until Next Time,

Manwathiel