Sunlight broke through the forest canopy to create splashes of light dancing over the ground.

Songs poured from above, sung by birds of many colors and of many songs.

"Come on, we'll never reach Gondor if you keep stopping to look at every flower on our path. We've barely passed the Old Forest Road."

From his position stooped over a plant, an Elf of the Mirkwood realm stood straight, "We are making fine time to Gondor, Níracas, and can stop to enjoy our surroundings. Legolas told us himself that this was a simple message to Elessar and didn't need all haste. If it did we would have horses."

Sighing, his companion turned back to continue down the path, "Honestly, Ristar, if all duties were left to your logical speed, things would never be completed even on an immortal's timeframe."

"I'm sure I'm not as bad as all that."

Níracas turned to give his friend a look and raised his dark eyebrows, which stood out against his fair skin and light hair styled in the manner of the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen formally known as Mirkwood. The forest had been renamed when Thranduil and the Lord Celeborn met under the boughs of Mirkwood on April 6, 3019 of the Third Age.*

"Well, Níracas, it might not be as bad as all that." Hope shone in Ristar's green eyes. "Besides, between the Brown Lands outside the southern border of the forest and the river Anduin there is not too much to distract one from their destination."

Still, Ristar was met with silence in return. They continued casually towards their destination, finally enjoying a time of peace and quiet. Níracas broke the silence, "The Brown Lands are plain and if it weren't for the stars one may not know which why is which after the sun sets. We will be in that land soon, my friend, and may need to travel at night. Those lands are filled with dark creatures that blend into the long fields."

As their distance grew from where the elves had stopped, a human released a long held breath and slowly stood, shedding the layers of forest debris used to conceal himself. Not seeing the elves any longer, the man made his way into the surrounding forest into a camp.

Upon entering the small camp a mysterious man dressed in a black cloak turned from his position on the point. Lowering a pair of glasses designed for long sight, he gestured for the scout to come closer.

"Their quest?" The man's voice rumbled so low, striking apprehension even in those joined on his side.

"To deliver a message, my Lord." Keeping his eyes lowered, the spy made no attempts to look the other in the eye, aware of the consequences.

"Their state of readiness?"

"Low, my Lord, they do not anticipate an attack."

Raising a fat cigar to his mouth, the man in black's face was consumed in a cloud of smoke, but the smile could easily be seen on his face as his teeth reflected to dull light.

"Excellent."

Afraid to ask, but needing to know, the scout Quintil spoke to the dark man, "Lord Tieced, how are we going to move close enough to our target?"

"Easy," Tieced smirked, "I have hunted their kind for most of my life. Once you know their tendencies, they are simple to attack." Contempt dripped into his words, "They are so arrogant, they think because they are immortal they are invulnerable."

Men begin to come together in the camp, geared and ready to attack, peering down the path leading to Gondor.

The winds blew down that path as if trying to warn the unsuspecting travelers

"Do you think we'll make it before the stars shine?"

Glancing to the west, Níracas saw the sun bidding its farewell to the day.

"I don't believe so, perhaps we should stop for the night. There is a clearing just beyond these trees suitable for a fire. Like you said Ristar, we're in no rush." They began to settle down for the night, creating a small fire and listening to the crickets, their song replacing the birds of the day with their equally comforting tune.

Watching the flames put Ristar into a contemplative mood.

"How much longer do you think we'll stay in Eryn Lasgalen, Níracas?" Ristar brought his green cloak around him, for the winds had been picking up all afternoon. They were now enough to even bother an Elf and make the fire flicker and its light barely able to hold back the dark before being dimmed by the force of the wind.

"I'm not sure. Legolas wishes us to relocate and build Ithilien. Perhaps he wishes to find a new life. I do not believe he finds much satisfaction in being commander of the armies of Eryn Lasgalen, though his father pressed him to take on the responsibility. Fighting the bands of Orcs and random demons that still plague Eryn Lasgalen is not very fulfilling to someone like him. He sees too much beauty in the world to have to constantly face such darkness. It will take some time before he does actually leave our home Eryn Lasgalen, though."

Looking into Níracas' eyes and seeing the certainty there, Ristar nodded and said no more. He knew that Níracas was a highly experienced Elf and even stood in the War of the Last Alliance by the legendary Oropher's side. The ages of life he had known just gave Níracas a dignified and wise face, especially when one looked into his eyes one could see wisdom there.

Though they needed no sleep, the pair of elves knew better than the travel in the dark of night through the southern parts of Eryn Lasgalen. Though The Ring had been destroyed, evil still plagued the land. In addition, the resident spiders always kept elves on alert for the sound of their scurrying on the forest floor and above in the trees. Green was worn by both travelers to help them blend into their surroundings and not attract too much attention.

Though not all beings wishing destruction to the elves were defeated by the simple wearing of green.

"Are we close enough now, my Lord?" A man peered into the woods, trying to see the small flicker of their victim's campfire.

The dark form rose from the greenery, "Moron, I've learned in my long time in war to never underestimate elves. They can be quite annoying at times with their tenacity." Looking off into the night, he motioned for his men to begin moving forward once more. Slowly, inch-by-inch they had crawled all night and were finally getting within reach.

Ristar, still awake, stared at the winking stars through the forest canopy. As the leaves blew, different points of light gave their greeting to the elf far below. They could see from their position far above what their friend of the firstborn could not.

Yet, there was nothing they could do to warn him.

Instincts, greatly heightened within an elf, began sending warning signs as confrontation grew closer.

"Níracas, awaken."

Open eyes focused quickly, "What is it?"

"The crickets," Ristar whispering, trying to see as far into the darkness as possible, "they are silent." No further explanation was needed as the direness of the situation registered on his face.

Seeing each other's gaze, they recognized their situation.

"Quickly, Ristar, extinguish the fire! We must take to the trees." Spreading dirt and scattering the wood, they turned and raced to the edge of the clearing, to the safety of their friends the trees. "Hurry, something is closing in on us!"

No sooner had the words left Níracas' throat then the sound of an arrow cutting through the air could be heard, meeting its target in the elf's chest. Stumbling with shock, Níracas attempted to stay upright and keep going, but finally ended up on his knees.

"Níracas!" Ristar stopped and turned as his companion slowed and faltered. "They are all around us!"

"Don't stop. Leave me. You can make it."

"I cannot." Ristar shook his head; it seemed to the elf that time itself had stopped in this moment.

Meeting Ristar's look of denial with an equal look of determination, Níracas pushed his friend away, "You must!"

Closing his eyes and praying to the Valar for forgiveness, Ristar obeyed his friend's command. Standing and turning back towards the woods, he traveled two steps before a voice broke through the woods ordering him to halt. A voice with such commanding power that the elf could not help but obey, finding his body frozen where it stood.

"Mirkwood Elves," the voice began dripping with sarcasm, "the most wild and uncultured of all the elves, no matter what name you call yourselves by. Your people are nothing compared to the elves of Rivendell or Lothlorien. Pity. About the only thing you are good for is fighting, which you think you do better than what is actually fact. I guess we owe our existence to that little fact."

Out of the forest emerged the form of a man, large with a face hidden by a cloak.

Ristar stared in shock that this person could sneak up and attack them. His bulk surely would not have allowed him to approach unnoticed. Níracas, as ever the wise elf, kept his mind on this person. Fighting off the pain of his injury.

"Who are you?" He asked from his position on his knees, trying to keep his voice strong.

"Forgive my lack of manners, I am Tieced." Closing the distance between them in only a few long strides, the man looked closely at his prizes. Now, the rest of his men had made their appearance in the clearing, confirming the point to their elves that they were not going anywhere.

"What is it you wish with us?" Ristar asked, his impatience with this man's need of secrecy wearing thin.

Tieced stood face to face with Ristar, staring into the elf's eyes and giving Ristar a chance to peer beyond his cloak of shadows. Brown eyes peered out from beyond the depths, with a frigid gaze that could freeze one's soul. "I'm afraid that you are merely the first moves in a elaborate game. I am sorry."

Stepping around Ristar's side, Tieced held out a blade to the long elven throat. Reaching out with his other hand, he removed the elf's arrows from his quiver.

"I need these, thank you for providing them."

Without another word, Tieced's blade sliced Ristar's throat.

Gasping for air, but breathing only blood, Ristar fell to his knees, looking to his companion. Níracas, knowing his fate, could only whispering comforting words as darkness consumed his long time friend.

"I will journey beside you in the Halls of Mandos shortly, my friend. Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva."

Hearing these words, Ristar managed enough energy for a short smile before falling into death.

"You are correct, elf, you shall join him." The blade, still wet with Ristar's blood, was stabbed violently into Níracas' chest, giving him a longer and more painful fall into darkness.

When both elves lay dead on the forest floor, Tieced turned to his men.

"Burn them."

Flames reached towards the heavens, dancing and swaying on the winds.

Eryn Lasgalen was enjoying the summer festival as the hash winter once again made way for spring and summer. With warmer weather and plenty of new growth promising plenty of food in order to keep the cycle going, the elves welcomed this change with a grand celebration in the center of the elven kingdom.

For one elf, though, the festival did not bring any joy.

"Legolas, this is the second messenger party we have sent to Gondor that has disappeared."

Turning his gaze from the other elves enjoying more lighthearted conversation, Legolas focused on the speaker, "Arcon, do you really feel something is wrong? Perhaps they have found something fascinating enough to catch their attention and keep them in Gondor. I never said that anything of their tasks were dire and needed all speed." Legolas straightened his green tunic. He always loved wearing the same items, even as commander of all military forces in Eryn Lasgalen, he did not dress the part. Even his hair did not show anymore rank than a warrior, braided in the same fashion as it had been for hundreds of years.

"If we were only speaking of Meldince and Cenyon I might agree with you. However, we sent Níracas after them. He knows he is not only supposed to deliver their message to Aragorn, but also to discover what delayed their comrades."

Lifting a dark eyebrow, Legolas retorted, "You don't think Ristar can corrupt Níracas into some side adventure? The two are very close."

"I doubt it." Arcon crossed his arms, a sign that meant he was absolutely serious. As always, Arcon wore his bow and arrows, even in the most protected areas of his home. A warrior born and bred, though sometimes plagued with paranoia and liking to create situations where there were none. He wore the more elaborate clothing of a high-ranking officer with many at his command. To look at the two elves together one might think that he was giving commands to the Prince.

Stepping away to gaze out over the forest, Legolas felt something stirring in his heart. "We are speaking nonsense. This is Gondor we are speaking of. Aragorn would never hurt any elf."

"Man's desire for power can lead them to perform tasks of great evil, Legolas. You have seen it first hand." Arcon's voice registered sadness at having to break his friend's feel of assurance in his close friend.

Turning back swiftly Legolas almost found himself yelling, but restrained himself. "I have seen evil in men. If it weren't for the evil of man I would not have had to fight that terrible war over a ring that could have been destroyed long before my coming into Arda. However, I have also seen goodness in man as they have fought against overwhelming odds in the name of valor and honor. To protect those unable to protect themselves. Aragorn is not behind this, there must be an explanation."

"What would you suggest, Legolas? We keep sending more elves until finally an answer is discovered?"

"Of course, not." Looking into Arcon's eyes, Legolas knew what the next move needed to be, "Form a well armed band of your finest and follow the path to Gondor in order to discover any evidence of the fate of our friends. The minute they are found, return. Be on your guard, I sense something more complex behind this then there appears to be."

"Yes, my Commander." Bowing slightly, Arcon turned to quickly gather those most trusted. He wanted answers. Legolas had suffered in the War of the Ring, and he wound not have him suffer in the peace that has finally come after so much suffering and death.

Remaining alone for only a moment, Legolas felt a very familiar presence come up to him.

"Varyar, my friend, what make you of these events?"

Walking up to stand beside Legolas, Varyar gave a solemn look into Legolas' blue eyes.

"I am not sure, Legolas." Varyar was of a more muscular build than most elves. This strong form came from hard fighting and equally hard working. This power was why Legolas gave him the position of Second in Command of the Armies of Eryn Lasgalen. That, and their long and trusted friendship. "I can understand a little of what Arcon speaks, men have not always been the most trustworthy of creatures."

Shaking his head, Legolas countered, "Sometimes the most obvious of solutions is not necessarily the correct one."

"Wise words, my Prince."

"I wish my father would handle things for this one situation." Despair welled into Legolas' large eyes, making them glisten, "I fear things might go ill. There are so many creatures in the wide world, even more than we could ever know about, but if it is Gondor striking against us." Legolas could not complete the thought.

"Your father does not wish to deal with any military matters, he eyes look west. As do yours when you think no one is watching." Varyar gave Legolas a small wink.

Looking towards Gondor, Legolas said what he knew to be true, "I cannot raise my hand against him."

"Listen, Legolas, do not think on situations that have not yet come to pass. Keep watch on what the wind and sky are doing as the stars shine and twinkle brightly on this warm eve."

In the land of men there was a quiet dawning, the stars of the night fading into the light of the rising sun. The moon bid a farewell at the sky only to reappear once more in the cool air of the evening. Birds rose to sing their joys to each other and to all who would listen.

However, for one man, this dawning was not as peaceful as nature would have intended.

King Elessar, known as Estel to the elves of Rivendell, rose only thinking of what troubles would greet him this fine day. The trade negotiators were in the great city of Minas Tirith. This proud city was the seven-tiered citadel of the Kings of Gondor and for Elessar this was not exception. The mighty city was the seat of power of the South Kingdom after the destruction of Osgiliath during the War of the Ring*, to which the King of Gondor was all too familiar. Sometimes, during the night, images from that war would come to the strong man in his dreams.

Stretching in the first light, Aragorn, as he was known before his rule began, looked to the southeast, to the shining waters of the River Anduin. Turning back towards his home, he took comfort in the history that surrounded him. He thought back to when Elendil and his sons first brought the city into existence. What a magnificent time that must have been.

The light reaching his spectacular room brought him back to reality. Sunlight shone through the sparkling windows and onto the rich tapestries that hung from the walls. Images from the King's adventurous past were depicted, including all he traveled with. Glowing brightly this morning was the shining thread that told of himself and Legolas, his close elven friend, chasing the Uruk-hai with Gimli in tow.

Dressing in noble and luxurious clothing of the deepest blue, Aragorn, as he called himself in his own mind, finally stepped forth from his chambers to face the day. Immediately, the very people he had geared his day to avoid greeted him.

"Your highness." Bowing so low, one would think his forehead would connect with the ground, Alcarin shone naught but great respect for his King, for he knew that he would need his Majesty's favor in order not to be thrown in the dungeon. He knew that matters of state often bored their King.

Folcal almost snickered at his companion's display, affording Elessar the usual courtesy shone to his station. "Good morning to you, Elessar, my King."

Sighing perhaps even too loudly for a King, Aragorn prepared himself mentally for what was to come, "You have risen early. Tell me what matters are so important I cannot even get to my morning refreshments?"

"Nothing of so much import as to disturb your routine, My Liege, we could accompany you." Alcarin offered. The young man had a long and impressive family history and had the look of one who could also be nobility. Fine features were cut on his face with short and curly hair that shone with a deep blackness. He was known for having caught the eye of many beautiful maidens, but found work to be his great passion and eventually the women got the idea and just looked from afar.

The red hair of Folcal stood out, as it always did for hair of such color was rare among the men of this city, his hair was not the only unique part of him as his personally was just as bright and outstanding. The man was even not above a little smartness to those of higher rank than he, however his skill around the negotiations table afforded him such leniency.

"Sire, we have journeyed long and hard and we believe that perhaps a compromise can be reached."

"Compromise?" Reaching the kitchens, Aragorn grabbed a fresh and warm roll. The kitchen staffed curtsied quickly, only a short gesture, before continuing on their duties. They were well aware that their leader preferred little in the way of ceremony and a great deal in the way of efficiency. Everyone in the room was well aware that all their work would be for nothing if all was burnt while they paid homage to their King.

"Yes!" Alcarin continued in place of his friend, "The men of Dale seek to have some of our bountiful harvest. Their crops did not do as well as ours; however, their bolts of cloth are of the finest quality I have seen in a long while. Food in your stomach is more important than extra clothing, we may turn out a nice deal."

Still walking down the hallway, the pair continued to speak of anything and everything that caught their eye while surveying what the other lands had to offer this year. Glancing up, Aragorn saw a dark figure at the end of the hallway, a figure the King of Gondor had not expected to see so soon.

A bow of greeting was not afforded, for this man stood like a stonewall with all solemnity.

"You've returned already?" Aragorn asked.

Dark eyes peered out from behind a worn and dirty face. It was the face of someone who had been out in the woods and had seen something distressing.

"It was necessary."

Nodding, Aragorn turned to his followers, "Leave us, please. We shall continue this as soon as I have leave."

Both Alcarin and Folcal knew that their usually very relaxed King meant business and bowing once more, they left without another word.

Silently, the King and his mysterious shadow entered the royal throne room. Here none would enter save if they had leave to do so. Here they could speak with absolute confidence.

"What it of such import that you stand before me, Celepharn?"

The voice responding was almost so quiet it could not be heard. A soldier of Celpharn's experience knew the value of patience, but even he was upset by the events unfolding.

"I have pulled my entire command back."

Aragorn's eyebrows raised, Celepharn commanded all the men who had once followed Aragorn before his coronation. Trusted beyond a brother, the King gazed upon his loyal Captain.

"It is that severe? That dangerous what has happened?"

He shook his head in reply, "Nay, it is that disconcerting. I do not know what to make of it."

Stepping forward, Aragorn bid him to continue.

"Aragorn," He spoke, being one of few who still called the High King of Gondor by that name, "As always, a band of men were patrolling the lands of Gondor, on the northeastern border. One morning, they did not return to check in and be replaced. We sent a survey team out after them, I lead it myself for I found it odd that they would not have returned. It is has been a quiet time of late."

Nodding, Aragorn waited for Celepharn to continue.

"Finally, early this morn, we found them." Stalling, the man didn't know any other way to say the words that needed to be said, "They had been killed." Whispers were all that could escape the Captain's throat at this point, "They were slaughtered by precise aim."

"What are you saying?"

Slowly, Celepharn reached under the black cloak he wore. From it he pulled three arrows. Lowering his head, he handed them to Aragorn.

Numbly, Aragorn took them and looked closely. He knew the arrow's style well. He had seen their kind bring death to those of Darkness. Perfect in every detail, skillfully made by the hands of elves.

Elves of the Mirkwood Realm.

Looking up quickly, as though he had been slapped in the face, Aragorn barely forced the words out, "You cannot mean?"

"It appears so," Celepharn interjected, "Elves of Mirkwood attacked them, though the words taste sour. They could have come right up to them without our men raising their guard, for they are instructed to trust the Elves."

Holding the arrows dearly, despite the fact that they had been pulled from the bodies of Aragorn's men and covered in blood, Aragorn spoke once more, "Legolas would not command anyone to attack any of my men. There must be some other explanation."

"I know your closeness with Prince Legolas, but I can think of no other explanation." Celepharn said, "How would anyone come into possession of such items? Elves guard their weapons closely."

Aragorn could think of no answer. "What would you like to do, Celepharn?"

Responding quickly, the Captain knew his King was aware of the next step without even asking. Perhaps Aragorn wished to hear it from another's lips.

"We need to send an armed expedition into Eryn Lasgalen. We need to speak with Legolas or King Thranduil and discover the meaning behind this. I cannot believe that they are behind this, but simply existing without knowing what has occurred is unacceptable. If we wait, more might die, if we confront them now, they will not be prepared if they are hostile and we might learn their intentions without losing more men." Stopping, Celepharn lowered his voice, "I can bear no more death, Aragorn."

"If only these arrows could tell their story," Aragorn said softly, "there would be no need for secrecy." Raising his sight, he met the dark eyes of his friend, and nodded.

"Go to Eryn Lasgalen with all speed and uncover this mystery."

The wind's caress was always comforting and today it blew it an increased vigor, causing the trees to dance and sway in the rhythm of nature. The trees were joined by the grasses and the clouds sailing their path into the horizon.

Ninya enjoyed her watch, allowing herself to lean into the wind as though it would bear some of her weight. She was such a small Elf some would think she would blow away, but her eyesight made her the best Elf to stand on the high hills in Eryn Lasgalen and scan for any threat that might impose itself into their realm. Even after the ring's destruction, the Woodelves would not relinquish their strong habit of constant guarding.

Almost letting her mind escape into the clouds, a flash of something in the far distance caught her steady eye. Narrowing her vision, she took two small steps forward to try and discern who would be coming this way without a message of their arrival.

They were riders on swift horses. They were numerous, fourteen Ninya clearly saw.

They were men. They were armed.

Men of Gondor.

What would men of Gondor be doing approaching with all speed to Eryn Lasgalen? Would not King Elessar send some word to his friend, the Prince, to foretell his coming?

Suddenly, another group made an appearance only a mile or so in front of the group of men. They were also heading towards the palace their faces grim and their speed much quicker, for they were elves.

Once all was clear before her, she ran down the hills to the gardens below.

---

Legolas paced, Legolas always paced when he was upset and sometimes it drove others mad.

Varyar was a patient Elf and could handle others easily, but even he had his breaking point.

"Come and sit Legolas, nothing shall be decided quicker if you create a ravine in the floor."

Nodding numbly, Legolas sat in the far chair in the corner.

"I would wish for some word, from anyone, either good or bad. Nothing is more intolerable than this silence and waiting."

Glancing up from the papers on his desk, the elder and wiser Elf looked to the young royal, "Come, even you aren't so young as to fidget endlessly. Where is your immortal patience?"

"I know, it's just" Shouting from the guards of the gate cut off Legolas' sentence.

"Arcon returns! Arcon returns!"

Leaping out of his chair and practically leaving smoke in his wake, Legolas bolted for the gate for the news he had long awaited these past few days.

Arcon entered and waiting for Legolas' coming. The usually stoic Elf looked strained as he remembered all he saw, Arcon would never again be the same.

"Arcon! What news?" Arriving and eager, Legolas' blue eyes were wide with anticipation.

"I have no news you would wish to hear, however hear it you must." Clearing his voice to remove some of the shaking still did nothing to stop it from sounding hallow. "They are all dead, Legolas. Every one of them."

"What?" Legolas whispered.

"Meldince and Cenyon were found just beyond the Old Forest Road. I," Arcon stuttered, "I would not have recognized them but for the small parts of them that remained. It is obvious they were alive when they were tortured," he shook his head in disbelief. "I've never seen anything like it, they bled their life out, which mean their hearts were still beating through most of it."

Legolas felt his knees go weak, not even Orcs were so cruel. "Go on." He whispered.

"Ristar, Níracas they were, they were given a more merciful end, Legolas. We were able to follow their trail to a clearing. They were burnt, there were traces of bone in the ashes." Staring Legolas straight in the eye he spoke, "I know it was their end in that fire. Hopefully they had already departed before the flames consumed them."

The Prince finally took a shuttered breath.

"Who?"

"Men. The tracks were made by men."

Barely able to fathom the idea, Legolas spoke, "You're sure?"

"Yes." Arcon said very firmly.

Stepping away Legolas let this news sink in. How could he proceed? What could he do to counter this? It couldn't be Aragorn, but he is ruler over the men in this land and there had been no word from him in all this time plus the messengers sent to him had turned up violently murdered.

Legolas' thoughts were interrupted when a small female Elf came rushing in through the gates from the hills above. Lowering her head in respect, she was out of breath, very rare for an Elf.

"My Lord! I have important news!"

"Tell me, please."

Ninya raised her eyes, "I have been keeping watch on the high hills and have seen he returning of our search parties."

"Yes," Arcon spoke with frustration, "We are right here."

She continued as though she hadn't heard him, "However, behind them comes another party, one from farther away, one riding with all speed to where we now stand."

"Who?" Legolas simply asked.

"Men, Sire. Heavily armed and flying the colors of Gondor."

Arcon and Legolas locked gazes.

Legolas' mind whirled, it was all true! Gondor was waging war against him and his people.

Stepping slowly away, Legolas spoke to his dearest advisor, "A word, Varyar."

"Of course, Prince Legolas." Came the calm reply despite all the news of late.

Arcon was furious, "You walk away from this? You leave me standing here after all I've told you? Will you not act?" His voice was now well beyond a scream, "Is your love for the King of Men greater than that for your own kin? Answer me!"

"I shall return shortly." Came the quiet reply.

The two Elves entered the warm room slowly, as though there might be some evil contained in that room awaiting their arrival.

Legolas especially did not wish to cross that barrier, for he had great fear of the words that needed to be said and the outcomes that would ensue. However, there was no turning back now for the tide had been set into motion and there was no stopping it.

The room was large, with flowing deep red carpet beneath them and a wide fireplace housing a well-tended blaze, giving the room the flickering light of fire.

"Legolas? What is it you would say?"

Slowly, the Prince turned to his close advisor and friend, "Varyar, you know what I will say. Do you remember many years ago, when there was a skirmish between our border guards and a small band of Rangers?" Of course, do you remember is an odd question to ever ask an Elf, given their perfect memories, but Varyar answered his question without insult.

"Yes, Majesty." Formality suddenly felt needed in this situation.

"Aragorn was among that group, and I went out to meet him in that troubled time." Legolas slowly met Varyar's gaze, knowing the other would not approve of his meeting the enemy alone with battle so near, but now was not the time for a scolding.

Legolas continued, "I went to him to tell him that there may be no choice but confrontation. I also went to tell him that, that" Legolas voice failed, but he composed himself once again quickly, "that, so help me, if I ever raise a weapon against you may the Valar strike me dead."

Silence followed. For what could one say to that confession?

"How can I lead this investigation fairly? How can I bring justice to those murdered if I cannot strike back if it is found that men of Gondor slew them in cold blood?" Legolas asked.

"I have no answer for you, this is something you must decide for yourself, my Liege." Varyar said, remaining as stoic and stern as ever.

Legolas took but a couple steps towards his friend in order to put his hand on Varyar's shoulder. "I have thought of the answer, as it is the only one, plain as the stars at night, my friend."

Giving Legolas a look of obvious confused Varyar waited for the answer without replying.

"You shall lead the Military Forces of Eryn Lasgalen. I shall relinquish my powers to you in all matters and not give another command until you see fit to reinstate me, which will be at your decision." A log in the fire settled, causing sparks to fly up the chimney. This choice was grave, unheard of, and quite distressing.

"You cannot do that, Legolas." All formalities were gone in that instant.

"I must. Give me another option and I will entertain it, but I know you will have none." A knowing look was given to Varyar.

"I do not, but I do not feel comfortable with this outcome. Your people adore you and only wish to follow you, they might rebel."

"They will obey you, for a shall make it known that you are now their Commander. I will formally give all my powers to you, in a oath ceremony this very evening."

Shock shone in Varyar's steel gray eyes, the strongest emotion ever to show there in a great long while, "You will do all this under oath? You will give me all your commands, you know you would be able to do nothing against my orders, you will have no say whatsoever. Please, Legolas, think of what you are doing!"

"I have, and I can think of no one I trust more than you. What would you have me do? Give this responsibility to Arcon? Come, Varyar, you know this is the only path we can journey on." Legolas turned and opened the large, wooden doors. A guard was startled as Legolas quickly spoke.

"Gather the High Counsel of Eryn Lasgalen."

---

Ten Elves sat along a large, round table. Each one of them were well decorated in battle and each earned a seat on this highest of courts. Eryn Lasgalen may be a monarchy, however these elves had power even over the royalty. For no country was complete without a group of high achievers from among the people to represent their opinions and experiences, needs and wishes. It was only when all ten were in absolute agreement could an order from the King be overturned, and it had never occurred in Thranduil's reign, for he was a just king to took his people to heart and always kept them in mind.

The Counsel never rose a word of objection when the King's son Prince Legolas was appointed to the highest position in the military, for they knew he would have that role even if he was not the son of a king, for his deeds were so great and worthy of honor and recognition. They never questioned him, his strategy or his suggestions, until now. Legolas sat in the eleventh chair of the circle, the one reserved for a member of the royal family should they come to a meeting and only them. Legolas or his father was the only ones who were not on the counsel yet allowed to join in meetings. Even Varyar, whom this meeting was concerning, was forced to pace outside. A habit he was shocked to find himself doing.

"Prince Legolas, we have always been behind you, but this is highly unorthodox. You cannot step down from your post, no matter what they situation." Savinis, a powerful elven woman gave a look of stern resolution. She had fought alongside Oropher in the Last Alliance and had proven herself many times since. She had a rare look among the others, for her Nordor heritage gave her dark hair.

Legolas approached her with complete respect, even though he was called Prince, these elves were the true power standing beside the throne he would inherit.

"Savinis, I understand your misgiving, but I would think you ever more upset if I should stay in command. If I had to give an order to attack one I hold so dear to my heart, they could be overrunning out lands before I could bring myself to give the command. Understand the sight of a unbiased individual is the only clear one in this instance."

"Varyar would have full power, Prince. You would not be able to reclaim your post until he gave it back to you. There would be nothing you could do against him should you disagree with his orders." Tauron arched an eyebrow, and for one moment Legolas thought he was looking at Elrond.

The Prince, in these formal chambers he was never anything else but the Prince, gave them all a stone hard look and spoke clearly and slowly, "There is none I trust more."

"So be it, Your Highness."

---

It was barely an hour later when all of Eryn Lasgalen's forces were gathered, wondering what could possibly be occurring.

Legolas, their leader and trusted as none other addressed them quickly and came right to the point.

"Due to personal issues with our perceived threat, of which I am certain you are all aware, I have decided to stand down in this arena and turn command over to Varyar, his to do with as he pleases and without authority from myself or anyone else."

In the shadows, Legolas could see his father, Thranduil, standing and regarding him with a deep expression. The King of Eryn Lasgalen trusted his beloved son completely, however this decision did give strange feeling of misgiving in his heart. Nevertheless, he retreated from the room and would not voice anything concern or doubt over this matter.

Gasps of surprise and disbelief came from the gathered crowd. Arcon, standing up on the podium with the other two, swung his gaze around and gave Varyar a look that one may give surmising an enemy. Legolas turned to Varyar, speaking clearly above all.

"Varyar, in accordance with the laws and with the approval of the High Counsel of Eryn Lasgalen, I give to you, under oath swore beneath the canopy of our great forest home, all my power to command as you see it. I prey you use this responsibility to protect our people and our home from those who seek to destroy it. I trust in you and know all who stand here will also do so." Legolas then bowed to Varyar, something royalty of Thranduil's line rarely did to another who was not royal themselves. Varyar bowed in return and faced those he would command. In silence they also lowered their heads in respect.

All but Arcon.

The Palace of Eryn Lasgalen was a large and winding place. Filled with hidden passageways and rooms known to only a few, some of them known to none at all.

Arcon, glancing around to ensure he was alone, quietly wondered a back hallway and swiftly pulled forth a large purple and black tapestry from the wall in order to disappear behind it into the black cavern beyond.

After following a dark and musty corridor, Arcon found himself in an almost equally black room. It was have had no light except for a single torch perched on the wall. Here another was waiting his arrival, as he knew he would. It was a few hours after the auspicious turning over of Command by Legolas and Arcon knew that everyone has retreated to their private chambers for the night in order to sort out their own thoughts and misgivings. The guard stood fast in the entranceway, keeping an eye on the Gondor patrol still heading their way. To the Elves' luck, the weather had turned fowl shortly after the ceremony and the men were halted in order to seek much needed shelter.

The storm waged so terribly outside that the thunder could even be heard so deep in the stony underground.

"This was very unexpected, but has proven to work to our advantage, don't you think?"

"I cannot believe what Legolas has done. I never would have thought it." The other Elf looked almost in a haze.

Snorting in a very un-elvish manner, Arcon spoke, "Neither did I. Fool! He knows not of what he has done. After all I have done for our king, he has overlooked me for the last time. I shall restore our people to the pride and the power which we have forgotten. I should have been made High Commander."

"We have never known peace for so long."

"Come now, Varyar, think of the power that would be yours if we were to succeed, and succeed we shall. You should be in power." Arcon smiled in the shadows. "It is Thranduil's responsibility to come to you, you should not have to go to him and beg for recognition and respect, that which you rightfully deserve. Legolas and yourself and closer than the arrogant young Prince could possibly imagine, yet he would order you around, make you make responsibility when he is too weak to assume it himself."

Varyar nodded numbly.

Arcon spoke forcefully, "This new power is something we could only have dreamed of. We have fought together, bled together and have been friends longer than many elves in this kingdom have drawn breath. Together, we shall overcome all and see Eryn Lasgalen take its rightful place in the world."

Once more, Varyar could not reply. All Arcon said was true, but the elf had turned recently into someone Varyar did not know any longer. His power lust had overwhelmed him, but the strong Elf could say nothing, only keep his friendship and loyalty a secret so none could suspect his alliance. Loyalty was now all that he truly hold onto, though he held a certain loyalty for Legolas as well. Varyar could only hope that he could accomplish his ends and somehow see Legolas and exiled to one of his many friend's lands to live in peace. He found he did not desire to murder Legolas any longer.

Varyar's torn mind sought to rip him apart. Arcon's words rung true, Thranduil should have acknowledged him, he knew it, yet the King did nothing. No, the King always remained out of the military presence to lead in other affairs, trusting in his son completely. 'His son.' He thought bitterly.

There was no going back now. He was trapped, like a fly in a web.

---

In the shadows and rain of the dark forest of Eryn Lasgalen stood and lone figure. The presence so strong that even the mighty wind could not seem to move him. Peering into the darkness with the occasional flash of lightning, Tieced kept a watchful eye on where he knew the Gondor party to be camped.

A lone guard stood pacing around the edges of the camp, trying to keep his cloak up as the power of the storm raged about him. Slowly, and with stealth one would not think possible from one so big, he came up behind the guard and when the wind once more exposed his head and neck, Tieced slit his throat.

It was his favorite way of killing people, so precise, giving the victim no way to yell for help, but also leaving the unfortunate one with a moment to recognize his situation and look upon his murderer during those last seconds of life. It was the method that he had reserved for the Elven Prince, for his death would make war the only course of action. Slowly, now that the man lay dead at his feet, the dark man slithered back into the night, putting away the blade he had taken off of his first elven victim's corpse.

---

Celepharn, close confidant of Aragorn and leader of the party bound to Eryn Lasgalen, was quickly torn from his sleep to be told of the quick and gruesome murder of one of the guards.

"It was an elven blade, Captain. Nothing else would have made so clean a line, so sharp a cut."

Nodding, the man knew it was true. Bringing out his pipe, he sought comfort in its taste and smell. A constant companion no matter where his path would take him.

"We shall bury him here and continue, we are very close and the storm is subsiding. I grieve we cannot bear him home, but we have no other alternate. Carrying a body so far, then so far back would mean too long a wait for it to see burial."

Seeing to Celepharn's request, the body was buried with all respect and they continued.

At dusk they would finally arrive.

They did not know, however, that elves were perched in the trees around them, each one with an arrow aimed at each man's heart.