Blood trickled down the man's face. His limp form lay on the ground, unmoving... unprotected.
The morgul blade was pointed at his heart. If the creature pushed it any further, Aragorn, the next King of Gondor, would become one of them.
Legolas could only stare in pure horror at the sight, going cold when the Witch King made things worse by staring into his petrified eyes, "You know the deal. Say the words, and I will leave you both alone."
He twisted the blade, mocking the elf, knowing the weakling would give in.
Tears threatened to pour from those beautiful eyes, I cannot rid the world of hope... of Estel, "I Legolas Greenleaf, sell my soul to Sauron."