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For the son of Thranduil, I give an archer’s thumb ring. Carved of soapstone, inlaid with gold, it will give your arrows the power of fate itself.

Any bolt you fire will have the eyes of a hawk and the wings of a tern; it may fly for hours, turn corners, weave through branches, and dodge obstacles in their way. They will find the heart of their target even if you fire blind into the north wind, at a mark that lies half a world away. 

Yet you must know precisely at what you are shooting; if there is any doubt in your mind, if your resolve should slip even for an instant, the arrow will kill the first living thing in its path, guilty or innocent. 

Take care, for the arrow must be dipped in living blood before it ceases to fly. If its target should be dead before its tip finds their heart, it will be yours it seeks next. 

Legolas had expected Dol Guldur to be torturing and despairing and a voice of hopelessness – and of course it was all of those things – but what he had not expected it to be, was boring. Somehow, this waiting was even worse than all the torture he could have been submitted to. When at last he felt the presence of the Dark Lord, he could not keep silent. “Why did you change your name… Mairon?”

There was not an audible sign of indignity, but there was a change in the air– a kind of stumble, as if a giant predator had been interrupted from stalking its prey by a loud and irreverent sparrow.

“Elfling, you come into my place of power to ask this foolery? Are you aware that I could pluck the soul from your body, sicken your heart, enthrall you with anguish and torture?” The Shadow grew huge and darkening, daring the intruder to continue. For all the menace, there was a note of an angry schoolmaster in the voice. “Are you not the son of the Greenwood king? Have you no more sense than an addled rabbit?” 
 

“They may be dead, but they will forever be a memory, a beacon of hope – and of defiance. Even in death, they defeat you, Shadow.” (didn’t send that ask, but couldn’t keep my muse quiet – LegolasofLasgalen)

And has my legacy been a less enduring beacon of defiance?  

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