My name is Fesik and I am writing these words on this scrap of man skin because events have occurred that are so disturbing I must tell them lest they be lost.

I am an Orc. We are a people consigned to the service of the Dark Lord Sauron. It is not a bad life for a hideously deformed elf-demon breed. The food is plentiful and the leather wear is well-fitted. We are an evil race and our lord Sauron is the most evil, most hideous creature in all of Middle Earth, facts of which we are especially proud.

You ask yourself how I, an Orc, be so well-spoken. I assure you, my reader, I am not. My speech is poor as I have six rows of teeth that do not meet and a tongue that is forked. Oratory is beyond me but the Dark Lord desires his records to be written so he has commanded me to master the skill.

Enough with trivialities. I write now of the event and the warnings to be found within them.

It was restful when we heard the sounds of running feet approaching. We leapt up, eager for engagement. Our surprise was great when we discerned the source of the sound. A single Elf was moving at such a speed one would think he was running from Orcs and not to them.

The Elf's face upon seeing our encampment was shocking, as were his words.

"Blessed Light! Orcs!" he cried, falling down before us.

This greeting caused no end of confusion with us. No creature is supposed to be happy seeing an Orc. We sent scouts into the woods but the addled Elf (and I say addled because he was obviously so), was evidently alone.

The Elf sat up slowly, his eyes darting constantly to check the way he had come. He feared pursuit that much was clear. I can say little about his appearance save he was male and he was an Elf. I confess their breed tends to run together before my eyes. It is his manner I recall most clearly. And that he was damp at the temples and at points on his body. This, my reader, was the most eloquent proof of his state. It takes great terror to make an Elf sweat.

"I am Legolas," the Elf said in a humble tone. "I beg sanctuary with Lord Sauron."

Malkit, one of our number who was renowned for the sensitivity of his nose, leaned forward and sniffed at the Elf's breath. "He's not been drinking," he said.

"Hold. I know this name," Kakklit, our leader said thoughtfully. "You travel with the Hobbit who carries the One Ring."

"I did," said Legolas.

"Yet you come to beg sanctuary from Sauron?" Kakklit asked. "This is unexpected. Why do you seek this?"

Legolas bowed his head. "I fear of things which follow me," he said in a hushed voice. "They are in the skies and in the ground. They seek me out."

Kakklit asked, in a pitying way, "Have you crossed a field of dreamgrass? There is no pursuit behind you and only we Orcs in front."

"They are coming for me!" Legolas cried out. "No matter you black and foul your soul is, you cannot deny me sanctuary from them! Please, I beg you. Take me to Lord Sauron."

Perhaps it was pity that moved Kakklit or perhaps it was only the amusement of presenting a mad Elf to our Dark Lord. Whatever it was, Kakklit consented to bring the Elf called Legolas to Lord Sauron.

The Dark Lord Sauron manifested in spectre of a tall, armored warrior. His head and face concealed by a great helmet of metal. On his clawed hand he bore the image of the One Ring. Kakklit and I prostrated ourselves, as was proper. Legolas the Elf dropped slowly onto his left knee and bowed his head. This, I was told later, was the posture with which Elves greet their kings.

"You sought me out," said the Dark Lord. His voice was deep and majestic as befitted our ruler. "Speak your reasons, Elf."

"Lord Sauron," answered the Elf. "I am Legolas. I have come to you in search of sanctuary. I offer my skills as an archer and my loyalty for all my days."

I say now that Kakklit and I were still puzzled as to why an Elf would do this. Legolas had not described the things that chased him so rabidly, even though he awoke twice during our journey to Mordor screaming and clawing at the air with the desperation of a trapped animal.

Yet the Eye of Sauron had seen and the Dark Lord knew what Legolas feared.

"You fear the True Evil, Legolas," he said with certainty. "An evil which hunts you and inflicts you with numerous torments, though sweetly shaped, soon prove their true nature."

Legolas appeared to be stricken by such understanding. "Yes, Lord. It is so," he said in a whisper.

"How many, boy?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Many, Lord. I lost count when their numbers exceeded five hundred," Legolas answered.

Lord Sauron made the ancient gesture of warding. "Ah! You are indeed marked. Your days will be difficult. I cannot give you the sanctuary you seek."

"Lord, I beg of you!" Legolas said pleadingly. "I will take the aspect of your people with joy. I will serve you well."

"I cannot take you in," said the Dark Lord. "Were I to do so, they would come here. I am great in power but they are greater. They would produce one of their number who would create weaknesses in me." His aspect changed, as if speaking of the threat lessened him. "I would be made to..." Here the Dark Lord's voice became distant as he consulted his Eye. "...play with kittens, to forgo my armor, to laugh at winsome words. Even my physical aspect would change. I would become one of the creatures known as bishonnen."

We three in audience, Legolas, Kikklit and I, were appalled to the cores of our respective souls. To think our Dark Lord could be so changed was almost beyond comprehension.

Legolas bowed his head again, this time in defeat. "Lord, is there no hope? If you see with your Eye none, end my life now."

There was a terrible silence then Lord Sauron said, "Hope for you will be long in arriving. Perhaps, after the third movie, you will be left in peace."

Legolas gasped, as if from a mortal blow, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Kikklit," said Lord Sauron, finally. "This Elf called Legolas has earned the mercy I choose to give. Make the blow swift."

Kikklit did as he was bid. He lowered the body to the floor and asked, "My lord Sauron, what is this evil that drives Elves to seek death at an Orc's hand rather than fight?"

The Dark Lord Sauron gathered himself and spoke the name of the True Evil.

"Fangirls."