Rustling leaves betrayed their clumsy advance. Legolas drew an arrow, his fingers brushing the fletching with practiced ease. Three Orcs, no more than scouts, lumbered through the Mirkwood undergrowth, their guttural grunts echoing the forest's unease. He sighted the lead brute, a snuffling snout, then released. The shaft hissed. It struck the Orc’s throat. It gurgled, collapsing in a heap of spiked armor and foul breath. Two more remained, momentarily stunned by their comrade's sudden demise. Legolas moved, a whisper of motion through the ancient trees, his feet barely disturbing the moss. Another arrow found its mark, piercing an eye, dropping the second Orc before it could raise its crude scimitar. Only one remained. Fear flared in its piggish eyes. It spun, seeking the unseen attacker. Legolas was already there. He drew his twin knives, the polished blades glinting faintly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. He met the Orc’s charge with swift, brutal precision, a blur of silver and green. The skirmish was over in moments, leaving only the metallic tang of blood and the heavy scent of fear. Silence returned, thick and watchful. Legolas paused, listening, his keen elven senses sifting through the forest’s myriad sounds. The distant caw of a crow, the murmur of a hidden stream, the subtle creak of ancient branches. All normal. Yet, a faint hum lingered, a discordant note in the forest's natural rhythm. He felt it in his teeth, a low thrumming vibration that prickled his skin. He moved towards the source, deeper into the glade, his steps light, wary. The air grew heavy, static, like the moments before a summer storm. A strange light began to gather ahead, a faint, sickly green luminescence pulsing behind the thick veil of trees. An unnatural ripple surged through the air. It wasn't wind. It felt like reality itself buckled, a sudden, jarring displacement. Legolas staggered, a wave of disorienting vertigo washing over him. The forest seemed to twist, the trees momentarily blurring into streaks of brown and green. His mind reeled. Then, a blinding emerald flash erupted from the glade. It wasn't the soft glow he'd seen. This was a supernova of pure, emerald energy, consuming the entire clearing. He shielded his eyes, the light searing even through his closed lids. The ground vibrated violently beneath his feet, rattling his bones. A deafening roar filled his ears, a sound like a thousand crashing waves, tearing at the fabric of existence. Primal, unsettling dread seized him. He had faced beasts of shadow, the crushing despair of Mordor, but this was different. This was a fear that bypassed logic, a cold, visceral terror of the unknown, of something fundamentally *wrong*. His elven resilience, usually unwavering, faltered. He pushed past the terror, forcing his feet forward even as his instincts screamed at him to flee. The light began to dim, flickering like a dying star. The roar subsided, replaced by a low, persistent crackle, like embers cooling. He lowered his arm, squinting through the residual afterimages dancing in his vision. Smoke coiled upwards, a bitter tang of ozone and scorched earth assaulting his nose. The clearing was a wreck. Trees were splintered, their mighty trunks snapped like twigs. A crater, still faintly glowing with residual energy, marred the forest floor. He scanned the devastation, his heart pounding an unfamiliar rhythm against his ribs. Something lay near the center of the crater. It wasn't a fallen tree or a scorched rock. It was a form, oddly shaped, too regular to be natural debris. He moved closer, caution overriding his shock. Every sense screamed danger, yet an inexplicable pull drew him forward. Reaching the edge of the impact zone, he stopped, his breath catching in his throat. A man. He lay sprawled amidst the churned earth and splintered wood, his clothes scorched and tattered. But it wasn't just any man. Legolas stared, his mind struggling to process the image. The man's hair, dark and unbound, was the same shade as his own. His features, even smudged with dirt and ash, bore an unnerving resemblance. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones, the shape of his mouth. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. He blinked, shaking his head. Hallucinations. The blinding light, the shock, it must have affected his sight. But the figure remained, still and unmoving, a bizarre, uncanny reflection staring back at him from the ruined glade. His long, dark coat, torn and singed, was unlike any garment he had ever seen in Middle-earth. Strange buckles, worn leather, and odd metal adornments gave it a decidedly foreign aspect. A curious, heavy blade lay discarded a few feet away, its hilt intricate and unfamiliar. Legolas approached cautiously, his knives still in hand, though the urge to strike had faded, replaced by profound bewilderment. He knelt beside the unconscious man, observing the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was alive. His eyes, closed now, were surely blue, just like his own. A gasp escaped Legolas, a sound of pure disbelief. How could this be? No twin had he, no lost brother. He was Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm. And this man... He reached out a hesitant hand, hovering over the man's face. The skin was pale, a thin cut bleeding sluggishly on his temple. There was a scar on his chin, a faint line Legolas did not possess, yet it only served to highlight the chilling similarities. A soft groan escaped the man's lips. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly, hesitantly, opened. His eyes, indeed, were a startling, familiar blue. They were unfocused at first, hazy with pain and confusion, then they settled on Legolas's face. Recognition, or something akin to it, flickered in their depths. The man's brow furrowed, a silent struggle playing out in his gaze. A low, raspy sound emerged from his throat, barely audible, yet piercing the unnatural quiet of the glade. As the light faded, a figure lay crumpled amongst the leaves, disturbingly familiar, yet utterly foreign, and a whisper of 'Legolas?' escaped its lips.

A Shadow, A Scream