Legolas stood there, silent. All the other Elves that had come to find the Orcs stood there too. As one, they move off, not making a sound. Legolas weaved and dodged through the trees. He heard a rustle in the bushes nearby. He whirled around and relaxed as he saw a rabbit scamper across the path. Suddenly he stiffened and listened intently. He heard the sound of screams and the clash of metal against metal. ORCS! He turned and began to run as fast as he could toward the sounds of the battle. He made use of a particular skill of some Elves; he put an arrow in his bow as he ran. He burst in to a large clearing. There, Elves and Orcs fought. Many Orcs and Elves were dead. He shot an arrow into an Orc nearby. The Orc gave an inhuman scream and died. He quickly strung his bow again and shot. He went on like this, killing many Orcs, until he ran out of arrows. Then he reluctantly drew the gleaming elfish sword he kept on for emergencies and leaped into the fray. He saw an Orc sword coming at him from his left. He deftly blocked the sword. He whirled around to face the offending Orc and stabbed it in the stomach. He drew his sword back, the beautiful blade now marred with Orc blood. He felt a presence at his back and he whirled bringing his sword up to block. But it was too late. He felt something descend on his head; the world grew black; and he knew no more.
Legolas blinked groggily, slowly becoming conscious again. Where was he? Then he remembered the events of the night before. Immediately he tried to sit up. But he was jerked down again because he was tied to the floor. His arms and legs were bound too. For a few minuets he struggled but he was unsuccessful in tearing free of his bonds. Then he calmed down. He rested his head on the floor. He felt the floor sway beneath him and realized that he was on a boat. He was in a cabin of the boat. The cabin was sparsely decorated. There was a chair in one corner built of old, rotting wood. Suddenly he felt heavy footsteps on the floor outside the place he was being held. A large Uruk-hi burst into the room. He was followed by two Orc laughing and talking to each other, in the harsh Orc language. The Uruk walked over to where Legolas lay. He stood there with a cruel sneer stretched across his scared face.
“Sssso the pretty elf hasss awakened.” He hissed to Legolas. Legolas spat in his face. The Uruk-hi reached down and slapped Legolas across his face. The blow stung but Legolas did not cry out.
“Come, pretty elf, nowww you sssshall ssssee yourrr kindred die!” The Uruk-hi hissed bringing his face close to Legolas’s. Legolas recoiled from the foul stench of the Uruk’s breath. The Uruk dragged Legolas to his feet and dragged him out of the chamber and to the edge of the boat. He looked out at the battle that was being fought. He felt like being sick. Elves and Orcs were fighting on the shore. But the Elves were losing. This was because of the hundreds of ships housing Orcs. For every Orc that fell, ten more took his place.
He saw the Orcs surveying their kindred’s success smugly. Legolas searched hopefully for a face he knew that was not dead. Great was his relief when he saw Galadriel and Celeborn fighting, but unharmed. His unease grew, as he could not find his father in all of the faces he saw. He shook off his feeling of foreboding. Legolas watched as many Elves he knew well; fell with a scream into the ocean. And that was when he saw it.
When the Elves fell into the water their blood seeped out into the water, turning it red. No, not red he realized with a sick feeling in his stomach that turned into a sense of overwhelming terror. The water was not red; it was crimson. Crimson Waters. As he sank to the floor realizing what this meant, he heard the Uruk’s harsh laughter ringing from behind him.