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Authors Note: This story is a Spin-off of my Mael-Gûl universe. It is set before the background of that universe, and it explores one single idea: What if Legolas indeed were to take the ring? Like a lot of the things I write lately, this one has been inspired by a discussion with my reviewer Randy, who has also volunteered to beta for this one. This starts out in the night after 'Respite'.

Warning: Implied slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, non-con and debatable consent. Also, for this story: Gore, horror, and character death. I mean it!

Rated: NC (M) –strictly adults only.
Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas (mainly), Boromir/Legolas (implied).
Beta: Randy. Thank you! All remaining errors are my own.
Disclaimer: The universe I play in is not mine, nor are the characters; I just borrow without permission. I make no money out of this. Lord of the Rings and the world of Middle Earth was created by J.R.R. Tolkien and is owned by the Tolkien Estate, and the movies were made by Peter Jackson. My story universe of Mael-Gûl was inspired by Bluegold's story “Bound”, which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas with her permission. The idea of the Mael-Gûl, or Rhach e-Maelangwedh (Lust-Spell, Curse of Lustchain) however is entirely mine.

However, this particular story is a - very grim - AU to my main story universe. You have been warned!

Summary: What if Legolas indeed took the Ring?



Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; “speech”; 'thoughts'


_______________________



Dark Mael-Gûl-AU: Murder The Dawn
by Aislynn Crowdaughter



Pain inside is rising
I am the fallen one
A figure in an old game
No jokers on my side
I plunged into misery
I'll turn off the light
And murder the dawn

Blind Guardian: Mordred's Song




Part I


He is dead before he knows it.

I give him no time to react. He just asks sleepily: “What is it, Little Leaf?” as I move carefully against him and bring my rolled-up blanket up to his throat. He does not really wake – then his eyes open wide as I cut his throat and muffle any sound he could make with my hand. He buckles once - in the next instant, my knife finds his heart.

I know his body far too well to miss, even from behind. One stab, clean. I would have done it before I made that mess with his neck, but I had to make sure he could not scream, even had I missed. And I know how fast he could be under attack.

If you wish to kill a ranger, you had better do it before he gets the chance to fight or warn the others.

Just one short moment, and it is over. He shudders, then he slumps against me. Boromir has not seen it. He has just turned away to glare jealously out into the night again.

The sudden scent of blood nearly makes me gag. I can only hope it will not alert the pony, hobbled as it is some ten paces away close to the Hobbits. At least I hope it will not alert the beast until it is too late. It would not do if the horses reaction were to alert the man of Gondor.

Luckily, for now, the horse stays calm. Good thing the rolled-up blanket stopped most of the blood gushing out.
Good thing, too, that Estel purged last evening, before we went away from the camp together, or the scent would be worse. It is bad enough already without that peculiar element of bodily control giving way in death.

But I cannot linger on that, now. The less I think about last night, the better. The thoughts will come, no doubt, and with them the regret. But now is not the time.

I have another Adan yet to kill, tonight.

I make a show of getting up, tucking the one I have just killed carefully under the blanket he and I snuggled under most of the night. Boromir looks at me. He does not see the dark stain on the blanket, and he does not wonder at the fact that we used only one blanket for coverage. Nor does he see the blood still flowing out the dead one's throat; luckily, Aragorn slept with his back to the other man. Boromir watches me rise and scowls as I cover the ranger's body lovingly under the cloth again. He does not know how strange it is that Aragorn does not seem to wake as I disentangle myself from his body, that he does not even move.

Boromir does not know.

He is astonished, though, when I come over to him. Astonished and delighted. The stupid man has no idea what I intend, his mind too clouded by desire to think clearly. When I settle beside him, he willingly makes room for me.

He still thinks I am nothing but a bed-toy, something to use at whim. He is about to learn better, although he does not knows it yet.

Of course, it is the last thing he will ever learn.

We chat a bit. I tell him I could not forget the other night, when I was in his arms. That there was no comparing of his gentle touch and skill in the arts of love to Aragorn's much less desirable demands. That I was glad I could soon be with him again.

For a moment, I fear I said too much, that I had raised his distrust. But his frown only lasts a moment, then he quickly shakes off whatever doubts he might have nursed, and reaches out to me. He seems far too willing to believe that I cannot resist him and that he is by far the better lover. He accepts my kiss, blinded by his desire.

I taste the blood in his mouth when he falls, see his look of alarm and betrayal. Yet it is too late, he dies, his strangled scream caught within my mouth. My knife has found his heart in an instant.

He slumps against me, and I arrange for him to sit as if he dozed off on his watch. There is little blood; heart wounds do not cause much bleeding. A sharp scent betrays the fact that his body functions have ceased to work forever.

I move away and get my other weapons.

Two down; six to go.

The Dwarf has been of some concern to me. Luckily, while Aulë made his people strong and sturdy, he did not give them light sleep, or sharp ears. I know the stunted one is clad in armor that he does not even put off to sleep, and I do not even think of trying to shoot him or find his heart with my knife. A quick cut through the throat, though, deep enough to nearly separate his head from his torso, works even though I have to tug his beard out of the way. He gurgles, once. It is not loud enough to wake the Hobbits.

Or the wizard.

I take no chances with the wizard. Two arrows, one to his heart, one to his head, shot too fast for him to react, take care of him. And still, he moves! I add a third arrow for good measure, and only then do I dare to step near, kicking the staff away out of his hand.

If you have to kill a wizard, you had better do it from a distance.

A gasp behind me, and a shriek, alerts me to the fact that my deeds have been discovered. I turn and stare into the horrified eyes of Frodo. He screams again, waking the others.

I do not hesitate.

I regret deeply what I must do; Frodo and all the other Hobbits have been nothing but kind to me, and done their best to improve my situation, defending me against the Dwarf and both the men. I thank them poorly.

But I cannot stop now, and I cannot spare them. I cannot allow them to live; they would alert Lothlorien too soon, or would go back to Rivendell, with the same effect. Besides, that thing which Frodo carries is the thing I need to get.

There is no going back now, and if I want to go through with my plan I have no choice. I cannot let them get away, and I do not have the time for a long hunt. Not after Estel's death.

My days are numbered.

I do not give them time to flee, or even beg. Four arrows, in quick succession. Frodo falls, but the arrow does not pierce him; instead it glances off without doing him harm. I do not even stop to think about this; I cannot allow him to don the ring and disappear, I have to make sure that he is dead. The next arrow is on its way already, and it hits him right in the forehead. He lies prone, hands stretched out, undoubtedly fallen. A scream alerts me to his companions. Sam rushes to his master and is stopped by an arrow in his heart. Merry goes down with one embedded in his throat. Pippin starts to run, and gets a few feet away; he nearly reaches the bushes before my arrow finds his back and sends him down. He whimpers; the arrow has not killed him yet.

Three strides and I am there. I turn him around.

Pippin is dying already, choking on his own blood. Yet his eyes are clear, and they meet mine. They are full of hurt and betrayal.

His mouth forms a single word, without uttering a sound. I read it from his lips, anyway.

“Why?”

I do not bother to answer. I just whisper a short “I am sorry!” before I cut his throat.

He would not understand the answer, anyway. He and the other three were caught up in a war that is not theirs and that is far too old and too cruel for them to understand. I feel regret that I could not spare them. But the freedom of my people is at stake, and the lives of four Hobbits do not count as much compared to that.

Nor does mine.

I look at him again. My stomach churns. It is all I can do to scramble a few steps away, before my body betrays me. The cramps are few, but violent; I leave what meager meal I had there on the grass.

It lasts only a moment, then I can force myself under control again. I rise, disgusted.

I have no time for that, now! Besides, this was hardly the first time I ever had to kill.

Of course, I never before killed a friend, or an innocent.

But I cannot linger on that, now. With Pippin dead, I turn back to Frodo and search him for the Ring, the prize for which he and his cousins had to die tonight.

The Ring is already in his hand. He was not fast enough to put it on, or all of this would have turned out quite differently. I take it and place it carefully back onto its chain, which I fasten around my neck.

The Ring feels cool to the touch, and yet its song is full of dark satisfaction, maleficent pleasure; it is nearly humming. Triumphant. It makes me sick to have it close.

However, that thing might be the only chance for my people. Their freedom is a prize worth even the murder of my comrades, or the salvation of my own féa. And of course, my life.

There is no going back, now. I have to succeed .

Then I search Frodo, quickly, curious what might have caused my arrow to deflect. I frown.

Under his shirt the Hobbit wears another. A mithril shirt.

I know that shirt. Know it only too well. Bilbo must have given it to him. I knew the older Hobbit had it, and he showed it to me once when I was in Rivendell. But a long time before that, centuries ago, it belonged to a certain Elven prince who wore it on an ill-fated secret journey intended to send him off to Valinor, to safety. A scheme that failed. Horribly.

Just as Frodo's mission has failed, now...

I leave the shirt where it is now, and rise. A noise behind me alarms me, and I turn.

It is the pony. Sweating, trembling, rolling his eyes, frightened by the scent of blood. There is no way that I will calm the beast, covered in blood as I am now.

For a moment I contemplate killing the poor animal, too, then I decide against it. The pony cannot talk. At least, not in a way the Rivendell Noldor will understand.

It has been long since I have learned that they do not understand birds and beasts and cannot hear the Tree-Song anymore. Their arrogance has made them deaf both to the Trees and to most of the beasts of nature. For a long time, I wondered about that.

Now, though, it will work to my advantage.

I hear a groan behind me and whip around.

I stare in disbelief, but only for a heartbeat. Then I am there, and my knives are out again before the Istar has a chance to rise.

They are hard to kill, Istari. But I am quick. And this time, I am also very thorough.

He reaches for the staff. I kick it out of reach once more and my knives descent, cutting cleanly. Gandalf's head hits the ground with a thud. I kick it away, just to make sure there is some distance between it and his corpse.

If you are going to kill a wizard, you had best make sure he stays dead.

I quickly look around, then I go and free the pony. It runs away, too frightened to be calmed, and I let it go. Then I search the bodies.

Gandalf's corpse reveals an interesting thing. There is a chain under his clothes, formerly worn around the neck, on which I find a ring, apparently worn much like the One was worn by Frodo, and is now worn by me. There is a sense of power about it; in fact the ring resting on my chest now is answering its call and growing warm. There is a sense of recognition, and of satisfaction. It takes me but a moment to understand.

So this must be one of the Three, and Gandalf was its keeper. But why did he not wear it on his finger? Why did he wear it only like Frodo wore the One?

Yet I have not the time to ponder this. I take the chain and clean it at the wizard's clothes, then I place it next to the One around my neck. I am not foolish enough to put the wizard's Ring on; I do not know what it will cost me to bend it to my will, and I have not the time now to find out.

I have an errand to fulfill.

There is a small bottle of Miruvor I find in Gandalf's pack, no doubt intended to enhance our strength, should it be needed. That one I take with me. I do not find anything of interest among the other bodies. Only one more thing do I take with me; another ring, that one off Estel's corpse. The ring of Barahir joins the one Gandalf wore, since it is the wrong size for me to wear it in another way.

It has no power whatsoever, but it is the last thing of Estel that now remains with me and I cannot bear to leave it for the enemy to find.

Or for the scouts of Rivendell, should they find him here.

When I search Estel, and get my supplies and everything else what still may be of use to me from our gear, I am hit by the expression on his face. The eyes are glassy now, unseeing, staring, but the face still wears that expression of complete disbelief, and of pain and betrayal. I killed him nearly too fast for the lack of air by the cut throat to take great effect, but the panic is there, too.

It is hard for me to bear his stare and I reach to close his eyes. I can almost hear his thoughts inside my head.

'Why, Little Leaf? Why now? Why after what we shared last night?'

Oh, Estel!


As if it were important how we spent last night. It would not have made any difference had he tortured me again, or if I had been forced to spend the night with Boromir, or even with the Dwarf. The only thing that matters is that we are now far enough away from Rivendell, but close enough to Caradhras, and every day we walk from now will take us farther away from that pass. I would have done it earlier, in fact, but shortly after we left Rivendell I was in no shape to succeed or make the journey.

It was you who had made sure of that, remember?

Yet he is dead, his féa gone, and it is too soon for his ghost to berate me. The berating will come, no doubt, and soon, when withdrawal kicks in and I grow mad with need and visions.

Maybe, if the féar of men should be allowed to linger for a time within the Halls of Mandos before they pass on, we can meet again there for one last time and I can truly speak with him once more before we are parted forever. There are quite a few things I wished to say to him which I never got the chance to say to him in life.

But that time is not now.

Since Estel fed the spell last night I have three weeks that will remain to me until the need will drive me insane and the poison will affect my body too much to go on. Maybe even more; I never before tried running in that state. Or maybe less. Since Estel has just extended the spell again, I do not know how much the bond was tightened.

I suppose I will find out.

I take his waterskin in addition to mine and all our combined supplies. I regret that he has nothing of the Lembas left, or of the Miruvor. There is not much beside that I can use; his cloak is caked with blood, and so is his blanket. For that matter, so is mine. But I take the blanket used by Boromir, which will do nicely. Besides, I do not plan on sleeping much, or to take rest any more than I have to.

On my journey I will hardly have any time for that. Besides, I have no need to spare my body with rest, for once I have reached my destination, I do not need to be alive much longer.

I do not leave the bodies where they are. To bury them I have not time nor strength, but I do roll them in their blankets and drag them from the glade into the undergrowth. It is not much, and I doubt it will keep away the carrion birds for long, but there is hardly any sense in revealing what I have done to the creatures of the enemy at once.

I doubt it will stay a secret for a long time, anyway. There is not much I can do about the Mirror of Galadriel, and all my hope now rests in being faster than the hunters they will send for me. There is nothing I can do for the hostages we still have in Lothlorien, or any other Elven realm, as well.

What I have done has sealed their fate, and also brought the doom down on my father's halls.

My deed means war.

But this time, given I succeed, we will have a weapon fitting to receive them.

For a moment, my thoughts turn to my father. It is a barbed gift I bring to him, and it may seal his doom as well.

But it means hope for our people, and I cannot turn back, now.

For better or for worse, the deed is done. Now my only goal this side of Mandos is to reach my father's halls.

Three weeks, five hundred leagues to go.

I start to run.


______________ o ______________


-- TBC --


The following chapters of this story can be found here: Part II; Part III; Part IV; Part V; Part VI.

Comments

( 15 comments — Leave a comment )
jastaelf
Nov. 29th, 2006 01:43 am (UTC)
O.O

My God... that's darkly powerful! I love your main storyline, and this is just incredible as a sidebar!! ABsolutely marvelous!!

Will you be posting this anywhere besides LJ??

*stands and applauds*

Of course... Legolas's actions will have all sorts of nasty knock-on effects, to his father when Elrond finds out... to all the Mirkwood folk enslaved in Imladris and Lorien... OMG... but hey--maybe the Valar will finally take note and STOP this crap! *g*

Absolutely brill. Thank you!!!

Jasta
crowdaughter
Nov. 29th, 2006 06:38 pm (UTC)
My God... that's darkly powerful! I love your main storyline, and this is just incredible as a sidebar!! ABsolutely marvelous!!

*Blush* Thank you! I feel honored by such praise, especially from you!

Will you be posting this anywhere besides LJ??
I am not sure yet.Probably I will post it on daemel and a few archives, but not HASA. The story does not work without the background of Mael-Gul, and I fear Mael-Gul is too far out of canon to be ever posted there.

Of course... Legolas's actions will have all sorts of nasty knock-on effects, to his father when Elrond finds out... to all the Mirkwood folk enslaved in Imladris and Lorien... OMG... but hey--maybe the Valar will finally take note and STOP this crap! *g*

The Valar?! Well, I would rule nothing out, but given Legolas succeeds, I think the Valar will be the least of Elrond's worries. And I think, making war on Mirkwood will be just one of the problems he has to face.

But first, Legolas has to get there...

Aislynn
(Anonymous)
Nov. 29th, 2006 03:38 am (UTC)
Lamiel
Oh wow, what a brilliant AU within (or is that outside?) an AU! I love the narrative voice you use for this chapter -- the first person, the coolly calculating tone, the observations and the recurring theme, "if you wish to kill a ranger . . . if you have to kill a wizard . . ." brings a touch of macabre humor to it.

Hardest for me to read was the death of the Hobbits -- because they are innocent, because they did try to help Legolas in the Mael-Gul universe, and because the scene is done in such a realistic way. Of course the arrow would glance off Frodo's vest. And of course Legolas would compensate instantaneously. It is horrific and at the same time terribly compelling.

What I like best is this image of Legolas as the assassin: powerful, in control, and operating with absolute perfect efficiency. Of course it's wrong, and horrible to see him so twisted by the Ring, but it's also a pleasure to see him being so strong after being used so badly in the Mael-Gul verse.

And that was an intriguing idea about the history of Frodo's Mithril vest. I fear you are breeding plot bunnies within plot bunnies here. But perhaps we'll learn more about that "ill-fated secret journey" in the course of the Mael-Gul story.

Speaking of which, I am woefully behind in reviewing your latest chapter. Must remedy that.

Bravo!
crowdaughter
Nov. 29th, 2006 06:48 pm (UTC)
Re: Lamiel
Hi, Lamiel!

Oh, what a review, and especially from you! Thank you for the praise! I am glad you thinks the first person POV narration works.It was a big concern to me if it would, but that was how the muse insisted to tell the tale.

Hardest for me to read was the death of the Hobbits -- because they are innocent, because they did try to help Legolas in the Mael-Gul universe, and because the scene is done in such a realistic way. Of course the arrow would glance off Frodo's vest. And of course Legolas would compensate instantaneously. It is horrific and at the same time terribly compelling.

Thank you! Actually, killing the Hobbits is hard for Legolas, here, too, but unfortunately, he has no choice; he cannot risk to let them alive, not if he wishes to take the Ring. So he does what he must do. Effectively.

And that was an intriguing idea about the history of Frodo's Mithril vest. I fear you are breeding plot bunnies within plot bunnies here.

But, you know, that is the problem with plot-bunnies. They breed... well, like only plot-bunnies can do. And this universe has been especially prone to spawning them, so far... :)

Thank you for the review again, and Cheers!

Aislynn
(Deleted comment)
randy_o
Nov. 29th, 2006 06:06 pm (UTC)
This is a lovely (well, maybe that's not quite the right word!) little AU of an AU. I am glad that Randy inspired it, and that you gave into the temptation to write it.

I must be honest, this idea was entirely Aislynn's to begin with. The extent of my participation was to encourage the project by calculating the distances involved, extrapolating from the time the Three Hunters made from the Parth Galen to Rohan, and saying that, indeed, a properly motivated elf could make the journey in the limited time Legolas has remaining to him. So, if anyone finds this premise incredible, blame Yours Truly.


crowdaughter
Nov. 29th, 2006 07:07 pm (UTC)
Hi, Calenharn!

Thank you for the praise! I am glad you think the story works.

I am looking forward to seeing you meet that challenge.

Well, then I will do my best not to disappoint. Seriously, though, the whole thing is inside my head and I am already writing on the next few chapters.

This is a lovely (well, maybe that's not quite the right word!) little AU of an AU. I am glad that Randy inspired it, and that you gave into the temptation to write it.

Yes, well, actually the story was inspired when Randy first told me he'd like to see a stronger Legolas and asked if he could write his dark spin-off "The Night That Covers Me". Before I ever read that story, I thought that *this* was what he had in mind; and Legolas' taking the Ring took shape inside my head. Then that plot-bunny would not let me go again.

Unfortunately, I thought at first that it would not work, because the distance between Caradras and Northern Mirkwood would be too great to make the journey. Randy encouraged me that it could be done and volunteered to beta, which made this story possible. For which he has my deepest gratitude! *bows*

Aislynn
randy_o
Nov. 29th, 2006 05:53 pm (UTC)
Well, you know I loved this one. A little payback for the Woodland Realm.

Pity about the hobbits, but that is what happens when you twist all that is good in the world. People become desperate. Eh, Elrond?

Seriously, this one took nerves of steel to beta read, but the result was well worth it. Thou art the Queen of Darkfics!
crowdaughter
Nov. 29th, 2006 06:18 pm (UTC)
Seriously, this one took nerves of steel to beta read, but the result was well worth it.

And I am honored and grateful that you volunteered to do the beta work nevertheless. However, you know, this is merely part one. I am currently writing on the next part...

Thou art the Queen of Darkfics!

Thank you! *bows* - and I am very glad for your encouragement to write this. However, I still hope to bring the story in my main story universe to a better end than this one.

Aislynn
stormatdusk
Nov. 30th, 2006 06:16 am (UTC)
very well done. this one will stay with me for a good long time.
crowdaughter
Dec. 1st, 2006 08:44 pm (UTC)
Hi, Stormatdusk!

Thank you! I hope you will find the coming chapters equally compelling.

Aislynn
alliwantisanelf
Dec. 13th, 2006 08:06 pm (UTC)
I missed this when you first posted it (having undergone a small bit of the knife myself!), but saw you had Part II listed on my flist today and couldn't click fast enough to get here.

Good Gawd, woman!

People look at Legolas and see the beauty, easily forgetting the warrior assasin underneath the perfect skin and hair. Some things are not meant to be touched or possessed. Legolas would count to me as one of those things, even though he might not be as preciousssss as The One Ring which is beautiful but deadly in and of itself.

Ah, for Thranduil to finally have some power in all this terrible universe!

It did hurt desperately to see the Hobbits fall, innocence stolen. But this is as it is in love and war alike--often the small are swallowed up in the maelstrom. I understand completely the need to do this horrible thing, and now Legolas needs to make great haste if he intends to carry out his deed.

Thank you for adding this plot bunny to your kennel and bringing it out for us to see.
crowdaughter
Dec. 14th, 2006 09:59 pm (UTC)
Hi, Alli! What a delight to get two reviews in one day for different chapters of my story, and so wonderful ones to boot! Thank you!

People look at Legolas and see the beauty, easily forgetting the warrior assasin underneath the perfect skin and hair.

Yes, well, and even those who should know better (like Estel) might get too secure that he would never turn against them... It was great pleasure to give Legolas some of his deadliness back in this dark little spin-off.

Some things are not meant to be touched or possessed. Legolas would count to me as one of those things, even though he might not be as preciousssss as The One Ring which is beautiful but deadly in and of itself.

And yet, being a slave and the possession of his master is is the very gist of Legolas life for a long time in my main story... and he endured it. It is only need greater than his own that now leads him to act. He still care more about his people than about himself, here.

Ah, for Thranduil to finally have some power in all this terrible universe!

But at a terrible cost. One would wish that he would find a way to get his own back without having to pay such a price for it.

All in all, I am glad that this dark fic is just an *what if*, and that in my main story, things still happen differently (and therefore, there is more hope).

Thank you for adding this plot bunny to your kennel and bringing it out for us to see.

My pleasure! And thanks again go to Randy for encouraging me to write it. I hope you will continue to read, and also that you still will be interested in following my main story, as well. I assure you I have not abandoned it (though at the moment, it might seem so, seeing the tempo with which I am writing on that main story universe again. Can you spell s-l-o-w-l-y ?) :(

Greetings to you and Cheers! -- Aislynn
ebbingnight
Sep. 20th, 2008 08:57 pm (UTC)
Some Very Late Thoughts
Hello dear Aislynn,

Although it seems strange to be commenting on a long-finished AU of an AU in progress (which I've read over and over again, including all of the comments by some of my favorite AU authors!), I'd like to share my thoughts about Murder the Dawn. I'd read this AFTER Mael-Gul (which was so hard to read, as I had to skim for the non-violent chapters and then go back slowly as I could bear them, reading comments by everyone along the way). I think one needs to have read Mael-Gul to appreciate this fully-- certainly I myself was sympathetic enough to "understand" the murder of Frodo and the others as a "necessity"-- which I never would have in any other AU. But, at the end of the dawn (as it were), we're left with the same basic political (who will now hold the One Ring in this increased world of enmity, in which the son of the Mirkwood king has now murdered both Gondor's King-to-be AND the current Steward's favorite son AND one of the wizards AND a celebrated Dwarfian warrior!) and personal (Legolas apparently must spend eternity atoning in the company of Estel, who has not in my reading of their posthumous conversation yet apologized for anything in their many years together other than for not telling Legolas that he *might* have freed him if he hadn't taken the Ring) problems. Glorfindel, exemplar of the "good" bystander in this tragedy, never really accounts for his part in the tragedy of the hostages: Thranduil will either die from the spell or become something much much worse. I am sure Legolas would be devastated by these outcomes. So my initial feeling of relief and satisfied revenge didn't last: I now realize that Middle Earth's salvation can only lie in Aragorn being willing to learn from Legolas, who represents the "true prince" in his thoughts and actions throughout this ghastly spell. For, otherwise, in Aragorn we have a tormented and tyrannical man who seems more than likely to bring slavery and suffering to Gondor because as a leader he must trust so much in his own ability to make the *right* decisions. It's this depth that makes the Mael-Gul AU so obsessive in its darker shades of gray. I admit I'm obsessed by your story lines: I hope you can finish them (and yet I don't see how anyone could, given the magnitude and magnificence of this world.) Transformative work, indeed!
crowdaughter
Sep. 21st, 2008 10:47 am (UTC)
Re: Some Very Late Thoughts
Dear ebbingnight,

wow, what a review! You nailed some very important things I want to bring over the screen with your comments, there, and it heartens me to see they come over - the ambivalence of the relationship between Aragorn and Legolas, in both stories, the ambivalence of the "solution" (train wreck) in Murder The Dawn, still a horrifying probable outcome if just a few things had gone differently, but a destructive outcome nevertheless; and finally, the one hope that may - may! - exist in the main story. Or not. We'll see.

Thank you for this very thoughtful review, that is a great encouragement for me to write on. You really made my day!

Aislynn
ebbingnight
Sep. 21st, 2008 08:45 pm (UTC)
Re: Some Very Late Thoughts
Hello dear Aislynn,

If my comments above at all encouraged you to take us your readers farther into the Golden Wood in Mael-Gul, I am so pleased (and yet still somewhat fearful to read!)

( 15 comments — Leave a comment )

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