Disclaimer ~ I don't own anything.  How sad am I?

            WARNING: Chapter contains character owies.

            He was itchy.

The elf could not help but squirm as the Gryffindor robe scratched at bit as his sensitive Elven skin.  It reminded him of the formal attire his father made him wear when he was summoned to the Royal court.

            "Nervous?" Oliver asked, turning around to shoot an amused glance as the elf fidgeted with his clothing.  Legolas gave a half hearted nod. "You know, it would be appreciated if you could just… wait a while before you go straight for the snitch. Give us a moment to play a bit."

            "How do you know I'll catch it before Slytherin's team does?" Legolas asked, knowing that they wouldn't.

            "Then I'll personally let Fred and George use you for a guinea pig," Wood said. Legolas wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but he didn't want to find out. Recently, the twins were trying to figure out a new recipe for more rancid dung bombs. The elf didn't want to think of anything else they were planning to produce.  Being a 'guinea pig' for them would be taking many years off an immortal life, if not ending it all together.

            Suddenly, Oliver kicked off the ground and soared into the Quidditch field. Only his Elven reflexes got him off the ground so that no one noticed his slight delay. Following the captain, he flew until he was about a hundred feet from the ground.  Heights were not a new thing for elves, and the distance from the air to the ground was not much of a concern to Legolas.

            The Sytherin team was down at the other end of the pitch, their dark green robes blended into blurrs as they sped around the end of the pitch at terrific speed. Legolas was getting queasy just looking at them, his Elven thoughts drifting back into the world of Middle Earth. He wondered what his father would say, seeing him sitting on a flying stick, looking for something smaller than a walnut. It was only when the piercing whistle of Madam Hooch reached his ears was Legolas pulled from memories of Middle Earth. His mind now focused on one thing: the quidditch match ahead of him!

            The quaffle was released, along with the bludgers. Then, lastly, his quarry, the golden snitch.  Another ear piercing shriek of the whistle and the players darted in every direction.

~*~                                                                                      

            Legolas watched as Slytherin took down another Griffindor player. They were now winning by 42 points. Oliver had warned him about foulplay, but he never expected to be this… violent.  He winced. There goes the captain. Suddenly, the slytherin seeker went into a dive, "Stupid human," Legolas thought, "The snitch is on the other side of the field." He ducked as a bludger went strait for his head.

            Then something hit him.

            It was not a physical blow, but like a dark, eerie feeling washing over him. He looked towards the horizon and was suddenly struck with fear.

            "NAZGULS!!"

            He could see the dark shapes of their mounts, their dark, leathery wings streached over a broad frame. The sight could have struck terror into the most couragous of hearts. They were coming at a increasing speed.

            "This would be a good time to leave," Legolas thought, turning the Nimbus 2000 back towards the ground. It didn't budge. The elf's panic began to rise. This wasn't supposed to happen. He desperatly tried to turn the broom, to make it go forwards, backwards, to make it move.

            The ground was at least three hundred feet away. If he jumped, he would, without a doubt, break either a leg or his neck, but at that point, a broken leg seemed like nothing. He launched himself towards the ground. It was a stupid move.

            The Witch King's mount drove himself towards the falling elf, effectivly catching the being between his teeth. Legolas cried out when he felt the jaws close around him. He could feel one of the beast's incisors lodged deep inside his belly, and another in his back, staining the already crimson robe a darker shade. He tried not to struggle, knowing that it would probably only cause more damage. So instead, he lay there, like a rag doll, in the mouth of a Fell beast, headed for Mordor.

            Not one of the best situations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            I can't say I'm happy with that chapter. I know it's short and rushed, but would you rather no chapter at all, or this maimed piece I dare call literature?

            Thanks VERY VERY much for all the people who offered to Beta, but I did find someone, behold-

            CALLIE!! (1 and 3)

            Thanks so much to everyone else, I don't have time to answer your reviews, but maybe I'll get Calryn and Kelhar to do it for me.

            THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!!

            In which two elves of obvious Silvan ancestry are watching a monitor with wide eyes~

            "Calryn?"

            "Yes Kelhar?"

            "Where are we and what is that… thing?" Kelhar says, pointing to the computer screen. His friend comes and sits on the desk.

            "That, Kel, is called a 'puter."

            "What does it do?"

            "I," Cal says, puffing out his chest and looking very proud, "Have absolutely no idea whatsoever."

            "What are those?"

            "The Reviews," He says.