Re-write of Blindfold as of July, 2022. I am hoping that going back and adjusting my pre-teen writing to something a little more my current style and maturity will help me pick this story back up from its years long hiatus.

Foreword, this will be a LegolasXHarry, so anyone who is not a fan of the boy on boy please move on if you're offended.

I originally had this story based off the movie versions rather than the book version of LoTR and this will remain to keep characters and dialogue as it was originally but I will be taking my own spin on things with our beloved little Harry thrown into the mix.

Thanks and I do hope you enjoy!

Blindfold

Prologue

A raven haired male sat in his cell, the black silk ribbon tied over his eyes, handcuffs on his wrists and ankles, disabling any movement.

His hair fell past his shoulders in heavy, tangled knots. His body was emancipated, the joints in his wrist jutting out and his shirt sliding off a boney shoulder, his skin pale porcelain, any natural colouring having faded after so long without sunlight in his cell.

He had many scars along his arms, the black t-shirt he wore ripped and torn, fraying slightly at the ends after months of wear, this pants in much the same condition. His feet were bare, his ankles pressed together with shackles, immobilizing him.

Harry James Potter listened closely as footsteps walked past the door to his exiled room, the heavy noise of boots on the stone floor was the only sound he ever heard these days.

It had been several months since his triumphant defeat over the Dark Lord and the boy-who-lived had spent that time here, immobile and on constant surveillance, a guard always being in the corridor which his cubicle was conjoined to.

The Ministry had put the young male in there as, "the fear for his powers was too great for the public to not see him as a threat."

The Minister for Magic had tried to explain to him how this was all for the greater good but Harry could only snort at the reminder of the old professor who's favorite saying was, "it's for the greater good Harry m'boy."

Greater good his arse.

People had expected him, a mere boy to defeat the darkest and most dangerous wizard since Gellert Grindelwald. They had put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and had expected him to come out as pure and naive as he had been when he was 11.

The wizarding world wanted a martyr, a savior.

They had gotten one, they just didn't like the way he had won the war. Or the price that had to be paid.

He felt as if he had drawn the short straw in this bet, heck, he felt as if he hadn't even been able to have a chance, he was just handed his title before he'd even been able to walk.

At least they had let him keep his blindfold; silk was so much nicer against his face than some rough dish cloth that would have probably used on him.

Harry was thankful for that, as well as the fact he was separated from the other prisoners who were mostly captured death eaters who probably would have loved to have a shot at the great Harry Potter.

The eighteen year old male had to sigh to himself. He had spent his birthday in his cell, and he was beginning to wonder if he'd still be here to see the next one come to past, and the next one after that and so on and so forth.

So, as he sat, leaning his back against the dingy rock walls that made up his cell, feeling the protective magic and wards placed around him in the air. The amount of magic being fueled to keep him locked within. He was sure the magic would be visible in the air, if Harry could see it, but he sure could taste it. It licked against his skin and his cheeks, leaving behind a burning lash of aftershock. Yes, the magic was certainly fuelled by anger and resentment.

All of a sudden the sickening feeling of falling came over him, his equilibrium tipping as he felt the bed beneath him disappear, wind whipping at his hair, blowing it array.

As he fell, the echo of a voice rang out through the air.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

Suddenly his body connected with a hard round surface as he gasped out in pain, rolling off whatever it was to land in a heap on the ground.

Harry could sense many people around him, the silence which reined stilling everything as the raven haired male had to sit up, sniffing the air as he did. He was glad his blindfold was still perfectly in place.

He could smell various things. Clean fabrics which smelt as if they had been washed, metal, the aroma of flowers and trees and other scents he had never even smelt before.

One thing for sure is that he couldn't sense the magic which had contained him to his cell as he destroyed the metal containing him with one thought, the silver fading away to nothing.

Rubbing his wrists which were finally free, Harry stood up slowly, a little shaky after so long having been seated as he said, "who are you and where the bloody hell am I?"