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.
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