His first kill. Not the clean snick of his bowstring followed by a distant thud, but a frantic grappling with a man who had leaped upon him in the dark. Legolas heard a greedy chuckle. “Well, well. What have we here?” Foolishly, the man shifted his weight to fumble at the tie on Legolas’ breeches, who twisted and shoved the dagger up under his enemy’s ribs, turning the cackle into a surprised wheeze. Legolas rolled free, trying to steady his heart’s labor and looked down horrified as starlight revealed the features convulsed into a macabre grimace. Nothing noble at all.
Written on Nov. 3, 2012 for Ignoblebard's birthday.
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