The rider sped across the plains like the wind. Breathless, both he and the horse upon which he rode, flanks steaming from sweat and shaking from exhaustion. Finally, in the deep night, the torches of Edoras could be seen...

Eomer was awakened from a light sleep by his Chamberlain; a scout had returned from Nen Hithoel with urgent news. Upon first sight of the scout, Eomer was taken aback at the state of the man and had to stop him more than once during his speech as he could not be understood in full.

"An army, M'lord, of orcs and Dwarves, I swear it!" the scout blurted out, looking bewildered.

"How many?" Eomer asked, sitting upon his throne and motioning for the guards to begin lighting torches within the hall, even at the late hour. He knew there would be no more sleep for him that night.

"I cannot say, M'lord, they gather upon the Eastern shore of the lake with many boats," the scout replied, taking a flask of wine and drinking thirstily.

"Invasion," the Chamberlain muttered. "What treachery is this? Orcs and Dwarves?"

"An old one," Eomer said flatly and then to his Master of Arms, "send out more scouts and a messenger to both Gondor and Orthanc. War, it seems, threatens us once again," and to his Chamberlain, "send a messenger to the Dwarves in the Glittering Caves. Inform them of the situation and tell them that they must prepare for my people."

"Helm's Deep?"

"Aye, we shall wait for more scouting reports, but we will go to Helm's Deep if this army crosses the river and makes for Edoras. See that it is done."

******************************************************

Dirk sat quietly, attempting to restrain the excitement he felt. He knew the stories of Eol and Gondolin, of course. He had been given the lore while under the tutiledge of Elladan and Elrohir. He supposed also that he knew that save Strongbow, none save Eol himself ever used objects made of the rare material. It wasn't until Elbren voiced the armour's history did he put the events together that Dirk fully realized the importance of the galvorn pieces he now wore. When Elbren suggested that the young Knight be onhis way, the two stood and Dirk bowed low.

"Thank you again, My Lord, for this opportunity to serve."

The Guildmaster concluded their conversation with a slight bow and Dirk made for the courtyard.

The sable-clad Númenórean found Athelos standing beside Endlömé before the great gate. The horse stood unrestrained as Athelos did not hold the reins.

"He would not come save of his own accord."

"As is to be expected of one of the Mearas' cousins within the capital city of his homeland," replied Dirk as he approached.

"Take this and guard it well," Athelos said as he handed Dirk a rolled parchment the youth knew to be the map to the guildhouse.

He then leaned in close and reminded the newest Mithril Knight of the passwords for the guildhouse.

"Namarië," Athelos grasped Dirk's forearm in the manner of men.

"I will return in four days with the item, good-bye." Dirk leapt into the saddle and bowed, touching his forehead, in the manner of elves.

Athelos returned to the guildhouse and Dirk put his heals into the flanks of the black warhorse.

Endlómë cantered evenly through the cobbled streets of Edoras, holding his proud head high and tossing his mane. Martial law was still in effect and patrols of mounted soldiers and Eomer's royal guard passed the lone Mithril Knight in on their rounds. Heads turned and jaws dropped at the site of the Mearas-sired warhorse and his shadowy rider.

Some recognized the steed and shouted, "Sablemane's son! Sablemane's son has come to Rohan!"

Sablemane was Endlómë's sire and the two horses were nearly identical. The elder horse was half-Mearas and shared a grandsire with the legendary Shadowfax, Lord of Horses and Gandalf's mount. Sablemane was given to King Bard II of Dale as tribute for the sacrifice of Brand, his father, before the gates of Erebor during the War of the Ring. Sablemane still bears Bard II when the King has need, but otherwise he lives free in the meadows and vales that surround the Lonely Mountain. Endlómë, whose mother was a mare of especially good breeding and also of Rohan stock, was born in Dale and presented to Dirk by his foster father at great cost.

Rumour shot quickly through the ranks of those on watch and soon Dirk was surrounded by men-at-arms, who provided him escort to the gates of the city. But Dirk heeded not the commotion. His mind was elsewhere: His heady task, the fatigue that bore down upon him, and the conversation with Elbren all worked to keep his focus inward-looking.

Dirk had understood the significance of the galvorn mail; but its history was only now sinking in. The very mail upon his back had seen duty within the high mountain walls of the Echoriath and Crissaegrim. It had seen every age of Middle-Earth. And Turgon had kept it safe in Gondolin. Looking down, he caught a glimpse of the black metal between the opening of his new cloak.

There were thousands of rings of the Star Metal, each perfectly matched in size and shape; each wrought by hand. The rings were fitted together in such a manner that it did not impede the range of motion of its wearer, as well as remaining perfectly quiet, no matter how much Dirk moved. Even if its history were less storied and its metal more common, the hauberk would still be a rare prize for its uncanny craftsmanship.

He then turned his gaze towards his arms before him and his hands resting upon the front of his saddle. He studied the vambraces: solid plates of galvorn fastened with leather straps and galvorn buckles. They bore etchings of strange trees that must have grown only in ancient Beleriand, in the forests of Nan Elmoth. There were talismans of protection etched in tengwar about the wrist opening. Dirk marvelled that the arms of Eol must have been similar to his in size and shape, as the vambraces fit him perfectly. He pondered the fact that the skilled hands of the fabled dark elf once jutted from the armour, where Dirk's hands now hung.

When he roused himself from his reverie, he looked up and saw that the escort was gone, as were the buildings and walls of Edoras. He was just outside the gates of the city. There he halted his mount and produced the map that Athelos hd given him. By the light of Isil he studied the route that he must take, noting landmarks to watch for and possible waystops along the route. He rolled the map and tucked it way in his saddlebag; then performed a perfunctory check of his gear and weapons, ensuring that he had forgotten nothing and that everything was secured properly. Dirk leaned over and whispered their direction of travel into Endlómë's ear and spurred the horse on.

Once his hooves were upon the plains of Rohan, Endlómë bolted forth like a tightly wound spring that had been finally released after a long period of restraint. Dirk remained crouched low in the saddle, and eventually managed to snatch some sleep in small bits, because the ride was very smooth despite the great horse's blinding speed. Only the thunder of hooves marked the passage of warhorse and warrior across the plains - they flew like the passage of low-flying stormcloud rolling swifter than the wind.

The next morning, as Elbren left his chamber to go and see how Idril was doing, he noticed immediately that the hallway was filled with the unmistakable scent of mistletoe and holly. He frowned at this at first, but when he entered the Common Room of the Guild House, he saw many silver candles, some lit and others not, and Athelos tending to a very large tree. Athelos turned when she heard Elbren entered.

"Good eve, M'lord," she greeted.

"I had forgotten," Elbren said simply and a little sadly.

"Midwinter," Athelos smiled, "you will be missing your little ones and Lothlorien's festival, yes?"

Elbren nodded as he walked closer to the tree.

"I thought as much, and even with all that is happening in the lands, we should take the time to remember the kindling of the stars," Athelos continued with her trimming of the tree.

"You even have candles for us to light," Elbren observed.

"And a feast cooking in the kitchen that should bring some cheer to the House," she smiled.

"Well done, Athelos, thank you," Elbren held out a branch for her to snip into submission.

"Mayhap you should light a candle for your family and I have special group over there for Lady Idril," Athelos nodded towards a shelf near the fireplace.

"Yes, I will," the Elven Lord stood and walked to the shelf. Taking a silver candle, he found an ember in the fire and, whispering a prayer to Elbereth, he lit it for his friend, Idril, who still lay in her trance. Placing the candle back on the shelf, he then began to smell the delicious aromas that were drifting from the kitchen.

"I believe I smell roasted venison and...." he began.

"Baked apples, ham, pastries, and bread," Athelos finished with a laugh.

"Wonderful, thank you again, Athelos."

"You are welcome. Now go and see to Idril, I will inform the others that dinner will be served shortly and that candles should be lit for their loved ones and for Middle Earth."

Idril had finally slept, in peace, without any troubling dreams or voices speaking to her. She slept the sleep of the dead, except for her very light breathing, she had more than once frightened Mirdain into thinking that she had passed into the shadow. He would then waken at her side, shaking her slightly until he heard her take a breath. Then he would sit back, thanking Elbereth that she still lived and he would think on their short time of knowing one another. He let many a tear slide down from his eyes, witnessed only by the sleeping Idril, himself and Elbereth. He asked that grace be given to her and that she return to him, them, soon, for they needed her.

As she slept she thought of very little. There was a darkness at first that was all encompassing but yet not fearing it as she had the voice. It was almost comforting in comparison. She had heard a voice calling her several times and she had seen a woman that she recognized, come to her, speaking with the voice in a speech that made her head hurt and her ears burn but she knew that this woman, she could not quite remember her name, was there trying to protect her, bring her 'home'. She just tried to remember what and how this had happened and then she felt something 'upon her mind' and she had lost all thought.

When she 'woke' her mind was in darkness but no longer in pain and now she was seeing a light that seemed to call her name. She 'felt' prayers all around her and she could sense that there were others near her, either just out of reach or in the same room, that she could not see. The light called to her to return to herself and to continue on her journey in life. She could just barely make out someone in the center of the light, before utter beauty overwhelmed her eyesight and she could no longer look at the angelic persona that was before her. It told her to 'heed your friends calling, return to the living' and she struggled with the complete sense of peace versus returning to a distant fight she could not remember. She remembered a burning sensation that would not stop but then the light would overwhelm her mind and give it rest.

Idril while laying in bed, stirred herself, making Mirdain turn from the window where he had been getting some much needed fresh air. He was at her side in an instant calling out her name. Idril ... Idril ... return to us ... return to me. Mirdain reached out and took her hand and held it, giving it a slight squeeze, getting closer to her to see if her breathing was changing for the worst again, or if she was possibly hearing him. She squeezed his hand in return and tried to speak something that came out in a moan. In Mirdain's excitement of her response, he spoke to her in Elven and again squeezed Idril's hand, hoping for another response. He is rewarded with another soft sound and squeeze of his hand. He knows now that she is coming back to them and he tells her to hang on. "M'lady Idril, please come back. Let Elbereth guide you to us. I need to let the others know you are waking and then I will return to your side." She again squeezes his hand as if she understood all that he said as he takes a quick leave of her side, swinging open the door wide and quickly going out into the hallway.

In his excitement, Mirdain did not wait to find anyone but let out a scream as loudly as he could. "Can anyone hear me? You must come quickly! Hurry!" as he moved down the hallway and the stairs at a run. He found Athelos coming out of the Common Room with some sort of a decoration in her hands. Elbren was with her and he relayed the events that had just happened in Idril's room in so much haste that he had to repeat himself. He turned just as quickly to return to her room, at a run, followed by Athelos and Elbren. They were met just before her door by Tempest.

Idril lay in her bed moving slightly, first a leg then an arm, then her head back and forth. She was not really speaking but she was making a noise that was not really of pain but more of a waking sound. Mirdain hit his knees and slid the rest of the way to the bed taking her hand again and speaking to her as she began to waken. She could not open her eyes but she did speak very softly "Aaye" and if it would not have been for everyone holding their breath and their keen hearing, they would not have heard her speak. Mirdain's tears of earlier shed unchecked as he tried to speak to her, to bring her back. There were many there that would speak with her, in time, but Elbren and Tempest for now, looked to each other and smiled.

Athelos did say "Well this brightens our MidWinter celebrations. I will now need to prepare her some broth and some tea. Excuse me, I have much to do." She went away with a tear of joy in her own eye to ready something nutritious for Lady Idril to drink. The others went to the window and looked outside at the cloudless night sky and saw that a star, burning brighter than all the rest, was twinkling above their heads. They gave thanks for the return of their Friend and Fellow Knight to the living.

Elbren and Tempest later spoke of what Idril might be like now that she seemed to be returning from the depths of a living hell. Tempest spoke of some of what she had witnessed and that she was sure that there was something, deep and troubling, that would eventually surface from Idril's memory. They stood watch from the hallway, speaking as quietly as they could. Mirdain had not left her side since Elbren had shown him the star. And now, thinking that no one was looking, he bent over her, still speaking to her of his love and gave her an ever deepening kiss.

The day seemed long already to Parador'little sleep was to be had due to the unveiling of evil tidings that were taking place in the land of Rohan and her sister communities. A new power has awoken'a power whose staff at one time ruled Isengard

'Saruman?''Parador spoke his name in low whisper as if to say it any louder might conjure up his spirit

'Yes''Elbren had already returned from informing the others of Athelos delicious meal that awaited them in celebration of MidWinter. she knew the Guild House was in need of cheering up. A good cooked meal with all the trimmings and smell of years long past bringing about fond memories of celebrations with family and friends. It was the antidote for the rejuvenation of spirits'it was for all to stop and take a moment to ponder what brought them here and the journey of friendships carved upon their hearts.

Yes, thought Parador'even still she could not help but envisage what all Elbren had told her. She knew Idril had been lost for a time'entrapped by a power whose words spoke the Black Speech'for she had heard it when she enter the room where Idril had laid unconscious.

'I know of Saruman Elbren, but then who has not'Evil does not seem to sleep nor stay put when sent back to the hell whence it came from.'

'No, and it never will as long as man and Elven kind are to live within the arms of Arda. This is why we are known as the keeper of the watch'we must do whatever it takes to keep the lands of Middle-earth extinguished of the evil fires whose flames wish non other than to burn and destroy the very existence of all who inhabit her'even if it means to destroy themselves in the their course of action.''Elbren rose to his feet to ready for the other Knights.

'Aye'indeed the fires grow amass even as we speak m'lord'with all that has been said and heard I ask that I may take leave and join you on your journey to Nen Hithoel''The Mithril Knight stood to meet the Elven Lord's stature shying but a few inches. Elbren was pleased to have a volunteer'but then he doubted not that others would soon follow.

Smiling warmly''Tonight Lady Parador, we will enjoy Athelos delicious meal and take in the beautiful decorations'until Dirk returns with the spear of Orome we will continue to make further our plan. Too, we wait for word from Rho and Erinhue'

Parador was beginning to feel festive with the anticipation of mingling with new and old friends and eating Athelos wonderful meal'already she could smell the delicious aroma inviting her mouth to water a bit...

Her eye caught site of the candles on the shelf' with a touch of melancholy Parador walked over to the fireplace picking a candle up'gently She spoke the tongue of the language of the Grey Elves once again in a low voice asking for healing to be given to Idril and another prayer for the Mithril Knights who's missions carried them in a perilous pursuit of answers to the questions that reign horror over their lives while awake or while asleep thinking dreams would be a safe haven to escape the torment. The flame burned brightly as the two candle's met'Parador took it as a sign of hope'she placed the candle next to the others that were lit and walked back to where the other knights were already arriving

Despite the speed with which Endlómë carried Dirk, the ride was smooth enough to afford him much sleep on the two day journey to the edge of the sea. He had stopped twice during the ride to the secret Guildhouse, and then only briefly to stretch his legs and allow the great warhorse a drink and a nibble of grass. Presently, Dirk awoke from his light slumber to the refreshing scent of sea air. His mount was slowing and as Dirk's eyes adjusted to the midmorning sun, he saw the vast blue depths of Belegaer streched out to the horizon before him.

Endlómë was approaching a tall sea-cliff; and already Dirk could hear the surf crashing below. But the guildhouse was nowhere to be seen. He drew his mount to a halt at the very brink of the cliff and dismounted.

"Where have you brought me, my friend? You have never steered me wrong before. Perhaps I misread the map."

Dirk removed the map from his saddlebag and poured over it for several minutes.

Once again he spoke to his horse, "No, I am sure of it. I read the marks correctly. And if you have brought me to the point I described to you, then the guildhouse should be exaclty where we stand."

The sun was rising near to its zenith and soon it became warm, considerably more so than in Edoras. Dirk strode along the cliff-edge, first to right of where they had approached. Nothing. No man-or-elf-made structure at all, only stiff grasses swaying in the light onshore breeze. The silence was pierced by only the relentless pounding of the waves upon the cliff face and the shrill cries of seabirds overhead.

Dirk returned to his orignal point of arrival and began to explore the area to the left. After only a few yards, he espied a cleft in the edge of the precipice. As he approached, he discerned that it was the beginning of a descending stair, carved into the sandstone. He arrived and immediately began down the stair, taking the steps two at a time. Ahead, the staricase seemed to curve into the rock face itself and hs quickened his pace at the discovery of this new oddity. He rounded the corned, expecting a cave or small opening in the stone, instead his breath was stolen from him by the amazing sight displayed before him.

Suspended midway between the sand and the mesa above, carved into the rock of the cliff itself, was the guildhouse he sought. He stood now before a spectacular whitewashed colonnade, seven times his height and four rows deep, into which the steps he now tread widened and then disappeared. Another set of stairs led down from the entrance to the beach below.

He raced back up to Endlómë. "I apologize my friend. The house his here, carved into the rock below. Go now and rest, find some fresh water and green grass. I will signal for you when I am finished and ready to return."

Dirk fetched flint from his saddlebag and then slapped the horse on the rump. Endlómë reared and neighed loudly before joyously galloping back across the plain in search of food and fresh water.

The young Knight returned to the colonnade and mounted the stairs toward the entrance. He felt an air of reverence among the immense columns, which were larger in girth than great trees of Fangorn. The sense of rarified air intensified as he stepped through the open doorway. No great door barred the way. No guards stood watch (indeed, the house was deserted). Yet Dirk sensed that unwelcome individuals would not be allowed to enter. He felt as though he were being watched as he stood in the gaping maw that led into the dark house.

Just as he surmised, he found a torch in a sconce at the entrance and lit it. Along the way, he used the torch to light others as he made his way through the halls and corridors. Tall ceilings and frescoed walls prevented the house from feeling claustrophobic, despite the fact that it was, for all intents, a cavern. He found the grand foyer, a banquet/ballroom and its adjoining kitchens, and several bedrooms. There were bathrooms also, some large with great pools for relaxing, and others more intimate with small tubs that could be filled with hot water to sooth tired muscles and wash away the grime of the road.

Dirk was fatigued and lingered at this thought for a moment. He wondered when the Mithril Knights used this house. Perhaps for some festival in Ulmo's honour at midsummer. He wished to return there someday to eat in that banquet hall and relax in those baths after a day of festivities and exploring the coastline.

But now he had an urgent errand to attend to and could tarry not an instant more than was necessary to find the Spear of Oromé.

Continuing the search, Dirk found the imposing double wooden doors that could only lead to the ceremony chamber with its sacred mural. He decided to move on, remembering the inside of the Edoras chamber and deducing that the Spear would not be found in there. He found an armory; but upon further inspection, he found no relic weapons - only rack upon rack of swords, spears, shields, and helms. Enough to outfit an army.

He had explored the entire house. Only the room with its mural of the first Giliath Londe remained unseen. Dirk back-tracked and found that the doors opened easily, with only the slightest push, despite their mass. Again, he marvelled that the room was not locked. And again, he got the feeling that if he were not an initiated Knight, the doors themselves would not allow him to pass, regardless of how hard he pushed.

Once inside, Dirk immediately recognized the lingering aroma of the ceremonial herbs Lord Elbren had burned at his initiation only fifty-six hours before. "Thank Eru," thought Dirk, when he saw that the mural itself was hidden from view by a heavy curtain. Just being in the room and smelling the herbs, however faint the scent, recalled the disturbing images of the all-too-recent visionquest. Seeing the living mural again so soon might have rendered him dumbstruck for too many precious minutes.

Looking around, he noticed that this room was slightly different than the one at Edoras. In an alcove opposite the mural that did not exist in the other guildhouse's chamber, stood a life-size marble statue of Fëanor, whom he would now recognize instantly for the rest of his living days. Dirk thought then that perhaps the initiation chamber in each of the guildhouses might differ somewhat from the others. Perhaps the mural was different, as well; thought he did not have the heart to look.

Cradled in the mighty elven-warrior's arms was a slender shroud of heavy dark blue cloth that could only the sought-after spear. Dirk took the weapon from the High-King's arms, but dare not lift the shroud for the weapon's power could be felt buzzing through its cover.

Oromé, Béma to Dirk's kin the men of the north: The great Vala-hunter who ventured to Middle-earth during the elder days, when the world was still in shadow, to clear the land of Melkor's fell creatures. It was he who expelled Morgoth the Deceiver in the final battle of the First Age. Dirk now held his mighty Spear. Suddenly it felt heavier. Could this weapon be the source of the enchantment he had felt all along? Perhaps it was the Spear that protected the guildhouse.

When he left the room , closing the silver-bound doors behind himself, Dirk was assured that the power of the Spear was behind the shorthair-prickling sense of watchfulness and security that he felt in the house. For as he walked the halls of the house, Dirk noticed something odd: even though he had explored every corridor of the house, and lit torches along the way, only the torches in the halls that led to the exit were still lit. Furthermore, as Dirk made his way back to the front-door, the remaining torches extinguished themselves as he passed - including the one held when he was again at the threshold. He replaced the torch in the first sconce near the door and stepped out between the columns again. As he did so, a massive white stone, apparently from some hidden pocket in the wall that Dirk did not see on the way in, slide into place across the doorway and sealed the Guildhouse. The Spear had left the building and the building was now shut until its return.

Dirk was startled from his awe at the giant, cleverly concealed, stone and the power that moved it, by a disturbing voice.

"Thrak burzam bubhosh."

The voice was fell and seemed to come from the same space Dirk occupied. Fear gripped him and he was unable move.

Then another voice, fair and intermingled with the voices of the surf, freed him. He could not make out the words of the sea-whisper, but knew that he was being called. He had never touched the waters of the great sea, but was compelled to do so now.

He descended the steps to the now-receded sea. It was low tide and several shallow pools had formed, scattered about the beach. Dirk approached one of these. The calm water reflected his face as a mirror, and below his image he saw starfish, anemones, and crabs, monetarily trapped until the return of the tide.

Dirk reached down and touched the water, causing it to ripple. He held his fingers still, just penetrating the surface, until the ripples diminished and the pool was once again calm.

As the reflection came again into focus, Dirk was startled to see that it was no longer his own. The image's mouth did not move, but Dirk knew that the Quenya-speaking voice he heard was that of whom he now saw in the water's mirror-like surface.

"Fear not, son of Westernesse. I am Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, who ordered your Lord to send you here to retrieve the artifact you now cradle in your arm."

Dirk stared in wonderment. Yes! It was Ulmo, just as the ancient tales describe him; just as he appeared to Tuor. But in this encounter, he did not reveal himself in physical form, as he had to Tuor. Nonetheless, Dirk recognized the countenance.

Regardless of the Vala's words, Dirk felt great fear, for Ulmo was known to be wrathful, especially with those of Númenóre.

As if he had read Dirk's thoughts, Ulmo once again said, "Fear not, young Knight. The debt of your father's fathers is long since paid. Those remaining sons of land which was gifted to Elros and his people are known to me to fear and love Illúvatar and to love His creations."

Dirk still found it difficult to relax. His heart pounded so loudly that he could hear it above even the voice of Ulmo, which was deeper than the rifts in the Sea's floor.

"I come to you now, Dirk, son of Angmar, to say to you that you have the power within you to overcome the fell voices you hear. I shall not name them for you. But you know to whom they belong; and yes, there is now more than one to torment you. But it is your destiny that you face them, for within you lies a balance. Your father on one hand, and your mother on the other; representing dark and light, good and evil. You stand now on the peak and have equal power to choose which of the two paths you will take. Both are rocky and perilous. Neither is without danger. Indeed, you may forfeit your life upon either road. Either will lead you to deeds greater than yourself; and both will surely bring sorrow along the way. But, one may end in joyous hope and love, the other surely leads only to the abyss. You are given the free will to choose your own path. That is Eru's gift to all his children.

"Your strength comes from both the dark and the light. You must embrace and master both, regardless of your choice. You have but tasted the rewards of each. Gain wisdom and grow stronger before you choose. But you must choose. And when you do, you will not be able to turn from your final path, your final destiny, your final doom.

"Go now and take the Spear to your Lord. Dispell this threat to Middle-earth. But never forget that the day will come when you will given the ultimatum. You cannot avoid it, therefore prepare for it."

Suddenly, the image and the voice was gone. So, too, was the fell voice and its Black Speech. Only the shrill cries of the gulls, and the gentle lapping of the low-tide sea upon the sand remained.

Dirk, with renewed vigor, ascended to the top of the cliff and whistled loudly. The respondant neighed from beyond Dirk's sight. But soon, the sound of hooves and a cloud of dust heralded the horse's return. Endlómë came to a halt beside the youthful warrior and nuzzled Dirk's neck.

"Hail, my friend, are you ready for the return trip?"

Endlómë tossed his head in response, throwing his mane over Dirk's head and shoulders. When he lashed the enshrouded spear to the saddle, the sable horse's demeanor switched from playful to proud and somber - dutiful and purposeful.

Dirk took out his waterskin and drank deeply. He then retrieved a small piece of dried meat and deftly swung himself into the saddle. He took a bite and leaned over to whisper into his steed's ear.

Instantly, the horse sprung away carrying his master back to Edoras with even more haste than that which he carried him away.

Tempest was glad that Idril had regained consciousness and she hoped that she had not been permanently harmed by the experience. Even as she smiled at Mirdain's exclamation of joy at seeing his love returned, she could not help but wonder why Saruman had released her. For him, every move would be precise and well-thought out, for he could not risk another failure.

The shadow was not lifted from her face, even as the celebration began later that evening. The warmth of the hearth and the savory food that was spread before her on the banquet table only reminded her that it had been days since she had eaten a good meal. She tried to push the dark thoughts away and forget for a moment, just for a moment.

"We must not linger too much longer," she thought to herself. "For the shadow falls quickly upon us again."

"This has been in preparation for quite some time. Frankly, I am unsure how to react."

Elbren had been summoned to King Eomer's chamber the morning after Midwinter Solstice. The news that an army of Orcs and Dwarves was mustering upon the Eastern shore of Nen Hithoel did not surprise the Elven Lord; indeed, he had expected news of this sort.

"It is the belief of the Mithril Knights that this invasion has been in preparation for many years, King Eomer," Elbren said quietly, "in fact, it is our belief that the plan originated with Saruman and was part of his strategy to rule Middle Earth....alone."

"But Saruman is no more. Who would have the power and arrogance to launch such an invasion?" Eomer asked, still pacing the room, the shadows from the roaring fire dancing erratically upon the stone walls behind him.

"The Clan of the Red Hammer," Elbren replied, "apparently, Saruman had an alliance with the Eastern Dwarves and now the Red Hammer has determined to go forth with the plans."

"Without Saruman?"

"Perhaps not," Elbren said and waited for Eomer's reaction.

"He's dead, Lord Elbren, you cannot convince me that he has arisen from the grave," the Rohirrim King pronounced each word carefully.

"Not yet arisen, perhaps," Elbren took a sip from the wine goblet before him, "Saruman fell in the Shire, that we know. But what spells and enchantments had he concocted whilst he dwelled within the walls of Orthanc? He was a Ringmaker and wore a Ring of his own making. Where is that Ring now? For that matter, remember the Dwarf who told me that the Arkenstone had been stolen?"

"Yes," Eomer paused, frowning, "how does all of that tie in to this?"

"I believe that the Arkenstone was stolen and brought here with the purpose of taking it to Amon Lhaw for the eclipse of the Moon. The Dwarves were alarmed to find that a company of Mithril Knights were here so they attempted to send us North...to get us out of the way. The incident with Tempest foiled those plans and so they panicked. Yet, they succeeded in placing the Arkenstone upon Amon Lhaw. Voices have been heard and the lake is under the control of the Red Hammer. They prepare now for invasion."

"What do they wait for then?"

"I believe that they wait for Saruman's guidance...from his spirit. I believe that the voice that is now heard echoing from Amon Lhaw is his. Saruman is a Maiar, Eomer, his spirit would not perish, only the body. Was he denied the Blessed Realm? I would think 'yes'. Would he be condemned to wander without form? Again, I think 'yes'. Would he seek to arise again, in some manner? Yes."

"So I ask you, why do they wait?'

"Not all is complete yet? Saruman is not strong enough? I cannot say. I do know that the Mithril Knights have been tasked with destroying the power that now resides upon Amon Lhaw. Other than that, I have no guidance or answer for you," Elbren stood up and walked to the fireplace.

"We cannot move an army across the lake to meet them, so we must wait." Eomer frowned again, "Who has tasked you with this errand?"

"The Valar," Elbren replied simply.

"I see," Eomer took in a sharp breath.

"I will inform you when we set out on this task, we will have to cross the river either above or below the Falls," Elbren said, "I await one of my Guild mates to return from an errand and word from Orthanc. We shall depart within the week, I should think."

*******************************************************

When Elbren returned to the Guild House, he found that no word had yet been sent from Orthanc. This concerned him, but he did find that a message had come from the Lonely Mountain. It came via carrier pigeon and was written by none other than the King himself:

Lord Elbren,

'Tis confirmed that the Arkenstone has indeed been stolen along with other items from some of our richest tombs. It will also interest you that we have turned back three attacks from an army of orcs and Dwarves. They bear the crest of a red hammer. If you can recover the Arkenstone, our gratitude will be endless.

King Tholin II, King Under the Mountain

Elbren looked up from the note and met Athelos' anxious eyes, "The North is under attack from the Red Hammer as well. We must find a route to Amon Lhaw... for when Dirk returns, we must act quickly to use the Spear of Orome."

"Perhaps Radagast will aid us," Athelos said.

"Radagast?"

"Yes, he arrived while you were at Meduseld. He is in the library."

The brown wizard had come while Elbren was gone. Tempest had watched him approach from a window, but she did not go down to greet him. She heard Athelos' hushed voice in the foyer and the warm, gentle voice of Radagast as she showed him into the library. When she certain that Athelos had left him, Tempest slipped into the library. She wished to only get a glimpse of the brown wizard, for she had only seen him twice in all her life and she was curious. However, his sharp ears heard her stealthy entry and he turned and greeted her. Having been caught, she decided to speak with him briefly and then depart again.

'I wish I could greet you in joy, wizard, but I fear you have brought us only ill tidings.'

'There is always hope,' Radagast said with a weary smile.

'Of course, that is why you alone remained when all the others of your order abandoned Middle Earth,' she whispered. He started to respond, but then thought better of it and took a seat by the fire to await the Guild Master. Tempest ran her fingers over several volumes that lined the walls of the library until she sighed and bent to stoke the dying coals in the fireplace.

'Do you know, I have heard Saruman's voice these last few days. He has caused a sickness among us as well,' she finally spoke.

'Yes, I know,' the brown wizard replied.

'Elbren says that perhaps he is trying to revive his power again, trying to regain form. He may be using these dwarves to do so, or to recover a talisman that would recall him. Do you think it is possible?' she leaned forward earnestly.

'Why ask questions for which you already know the answer?' he asked gently.

'Because, I do not believe it!' she cried. 'How are we to ever have peace if such evil can simply reappear!"

"It is troubling indeed," he replied quietly.

She continued. "I suppose Saruman wished to emulate Sauron by making some object of power to save himself. It could be ten thousand things, for Orthanc was full of his evil! He created many weapons and other artifacts for his orcish armies. Why, even Wormtongue carried a gift from him, though I suspect its purpose was more sinister than for show.'

Radagast stopped her. 'What gift did Saruman give Grima? I did not know of any such gift.'

'A chain with a black stone. Wormtongue wore it beneath his clothing. I thought he used it to communicate with Saruman when he was in Theoden's court.'

'I do not remember ever seeing such an object, even after the cleansing of Orthanc.'

'Of course you wouldn't find it there. Wormtongue did not remove it.'

'But he was'.'

'He was killed in the Shire, so you needn't worry about it. I only brought it up to prove my point. How could we possibly know which object Saruman chose?' she continued.

'Where is that stone now, I wonder?' the wizard muttered to himself and Tempest looked annoyed at his interest in it.

'I do not know! The hobbits probably buried him there, for I doubt they wanted to bring his body back to Rohan. Besides, it was Wormtongue himself who slew Saruman, so I don't think you need to wonder any longer about the stone, for Saruman wouldn't have allowed his slave to carry such a powerful talisman,' she said, and hearing hoof beats in the distance, decided to retire.

'Elbren approaches, and I am certain you will find him better company than I. So, I leave you. Goodnight,' she said, and withdrew.

Mirdain was sitting in his own room at the Guild House, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. Athelos' food was delicious, but the look on Tempest's face reminded him that there was much work to be done. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Then Idril let herself in.

"You should be resting," Mirdain said flatly. "I still can't believe how fortunate we were to bring you back."

"I will be fine. I was going to suggest that you get some rest as well. Surely this whole thing has been stressful on you as well."

"Think nothing of it. Elbren informed me that the Erebor is under attack. This new evil seems to have vast resources. I wonder if the Mithril Knights alone can deal with the crisis."

"It's our job to do what we can to help."

Mirdain smiled at her. "Yes, I was thinking the same thing. We are the keepers of the Lorien Guild House, and I've been feeling like I could do more to help our cause, for my part at least. I would like to send word back to the Lorien Guild House, to see even the non-Mithril Knights could be gathered to support us. The Knights have won great respect among our Lorien brethren, perhaps more so than anywhere else. Certainly, the work that Lady Carnimiriel and Lord Elbren have done there would indicate this. I think we should look there for more allies, especially if we are to engage in some type of large-scale battle with the dwarves of the Red Hammer. What do you think, m'lady?"

"I think it would be a great idea. First, why don't you get some rest? I will if you will," she added with a wink. "Then, we can propose it to Elbren."

When Elbren entered the library, he found Radagast pacing the room and muttering to himself in low tones. Upon sensing the Elven Lord, the Istari turned quickly, though the greeting was not what Elbren had expected.

"We have been foolish, Elbren, foolish! Why did I not see this before?!" the Brown Wizard proclaimed, making Elbren pause in surprise.

"See what? And good to see you, too," Elbren replied tiredly.

"Seven years! It's been seven years! Seven stars in the Sickle...seven stars of Durin....seven seeing stones.....the ritual at the full moon and now the dark moon approaches......Grima slit Saruman's throat....it was a ritual death, do you not see it?!" Radagast's face was red and his breathing came quickly. "What day is it?"

Elbren had never seen Radagast quite like this and, for a moment, he wasn't sure what day it was, "Uhh...it's the day after Midwinter....December twenty second."

At that, the wizard grabbed his cloak and made as if he were departing.

"Wait!" Elbren cried, "Where are you going? Did not you not just arrive?"

"I am going to the Shire," Radagast pronounced, "with all of the speed that I can find! Tempest has told me of a stone that Grima wore; one that was given to him by Saruman. I must find it with not time to waste!"

"Please," Elbren put his hand upon the Wizard's arm, "tell me what has brought this upon you!"

Radagast peered into Elbren's eyes as if considering something, and then nodded. "Sit, for a short while, and I will tell you what I know and what I guess."

The Istari and Elf sat near the fire while Elbren called for food and drink. It was then that Elbren noted the dirty and travel worn state of Radagast's robes and the weariness that clung to him.

"Saruman is trying to rise again," Radagast began, "he was clever...always so clever. Always playing with trinkets and talismans to see what he could conjure at the right sign of the sun, moon, and stars. I have long thought that is why he wished for the Key to Orthanc....because it is a powerful tower and one devoted to the power of the Sickle of the Valar. We are in the SEVENTH year since Saruman's fall, Elbren, the SEVENTH year since the One Ring was destroyed. It is the cycle of the Seven...and you know how powerful that number is! We have until the dark of the moon, less than two weeks, before what was begun during the eclipse will be finished! The Red Hammer will have fully awakened Saruman's spirit and found him the proper vessel for holding that spirit."

"Ulmo has tasked the Guild with destroying the power upon Amon Lhaw," Elbren's eyes were wide, "I have sent for the Spear of Orome to aid us in that task."

"And you must do as you were bidden," Radagast nodded, "and I must go to the land of the Halflings and ensure that whatever it was that Saruman began seven years ago with his death is stopped." The wizard reached out and grabbed Elbren's arm with such force that the Elf nearly cried out, "Do not fail in what Ulmo has asked you to do! If we do not destroy what has been awakened, then we may well find ourselves facing an enemy that will grow into the shadow that was once Sauron."

Elbren's mind was clouded with Radagast's words, but he nodded in understanding.

"Find those that will stand with you," Radagast continued, "get to Amon Lhaw before the Dark Moon and do what you must to land the stroke with Orome's Spear that will deafen the voice that now speaks from Amon Lhaw. You must not fail!"

Idril had given Mirdain a kiss as she stood to leave, assuring him that she could make it back to her room without aid and as she had turned from Mirdain to go back to her rooms to rest, she thought that she should first go speak with Lord Elren. She had slept so much over the last few days, she was weary of her rooms. Rest had evaded her even though she had made several attempts to do so. She slowly made her way down the winding staircase that would land her on the main floor. She went slowly to assure herself of her own footing, she had awoken not quite feeling like herself. Her thoughts were ever bent on what had befallen her, as her memory was fully in tact. She knew not why she had done what she had done, but felt that she needed to explain herself to Lord Elbren. Now seemed the best time to do so.

She made her way down the main hallway, working her way towards the Library, she could hear voices being spoken. She wondered if she was being discussed and so she had hidden herself for awhile, listening. She had heard Tempest's voice with another voice that she was not sure of. When she heard the term 'brown wizard' she knew whom Tempest spoke with and she heard all the conversation that went on between them. The intonations changing in the voice of the Wizard, made her heed a note of warning in his voice. She watched a few minutes later as Tempest left and then shortly after that, as Elbren entered the Library. She stayed hidden, still listening. She felt like she was betraying someone just standing there, as the two talked in depth and quickly. But she also felt a prickling and she for some weird reason, let her veil loose. It was as if something (or someone) was in control of her body suddenly. She fought it and was able to gain control of whatever it was, shaking her head to clear her mind and then twisted her hair once to keep it from loosening again. Slowly she made her way into the Library to make her presence known and that she had heard both conversations.

She walked into the Library without knocking. "Excuse me Lord Elbren for the intrusion ... she paused and waited as both took in her appearance and stance, which was of a defensive nature. Elbren took notice of a pale look upon her face, with a slight beading of sweat on her brow. He wondered what she might have just been through.

'Lady Idril, please come in. May I introduce Radagast the Brown? He has stopped here for a short reprieve in his travels.'

"I am glad to make your acquaintance Radagast as your greatness preceeds you.

'And I to meet you Lady Idril. I believe that we have a mutual friend named Curunírfin?'

"Yes, yes we do. I have not seen him in some time though. I would not have interrupted you both ... except that I have been ... well listening. I do not know why, but I was on my way to see you Elbren, to speak with you of the ... recent things that have befallen me. I heard voices, Tempest was obviously talking with you Radagast and I stopped to listen, wondering if she would mention me. I know not why I cared that she would do so but once I started to listen, I could not pull myself away." There was a pause before she then added ... "And then I heard the conversation that you have both spoken together."

She received only looks of slight surprise from both Elf and Istar. So she plunged on with what was now upper most in her mind.

"I think that I need to sit down. I am weak. May I?"

'Of course Idril, I am sorry I forget that you have been ... indisposed.'

"That is why I feel we need to discuss this and I believe now, that Radagast might be able to answer the reason behind my disposition or at least shed more light on it."

Elbren looked at her with a kind of 'we do not tell our secrets' look but he then looked at her deeply in the eyes as he helped her to sit. He realized then, that maybe what she had under gone would be of importance in the outcome. So as he stood again, he relayed the occurances' that had befallen the Lady Idril in the last several days, to Radagast.

Radagast left shortly after midnight again urging Elbren and the Mithril Knights to complete the destruction of the power upon Amon Lhaw before the Dark Moon...

Elbren called the Mithril Knights together the next morning and explained all that he knew and guessed.

"As soon as Dirk returns with the Spear, we shall prepare to depart. Who will go with me? For we must choose our path swiftly and we must not fail."

After the relaying of information to and from Radagast, Idril had gone back to her rooms to think on what had been said. The old wizard had agreed that he thought that 'she had set herself up' for what had happened to her. He was also glad that she had been able, with the help of Tempest, to come out of it as most of the time this was a control that was not easily over thrown. Most of the time, this was fatal. If it would have been a man or woman and not an elf, she might have slipped towards the evil side never to return.

And he had cautioned her, that this still could happen and that she would have to be 'on her toes at all times, aware of an evil presence in her mind and to at that instant, take control of it. He will be tempting you for some time I think and he will continue to try to gain control over you again. Be aware of all your thoughts and actions, especially now that you have crossed to the other side for a time. Alert Elbren and your fellow Knights when you feel this presence, for their safety could be in danger as well.'

He then approached her and bent down as to say something, or so she thought, quietly. Then he passed into her hands something that warmed at her touch. 'Here is a little something, worthy of one with your heart and talent for healing. Use it well. Wear it around your neck and when needing upon your hand, for it will protect you, maybe even help to heal you further, and possibly others, time will tell. I must be going soon but I feel that you will weather this storm and come out of it stronger on the other side.'

This last piece of information had been spoken in the ancient tongue and Elbren had witnessed it, standing quietly to one side of her, watching her reactions. She had looked to him, then to the gift that was placed in her hands, as he nodded. In her hands had been placed the generous gift of a green stone that reminded her of the Elessar in its green tones, yet it was different, with some clear parts and also with purple ribbons in it, all wrapped and hanging from a mithril chain. There was also a small ring on the chain of the same type of stone and the same colorings, changing in the light. "Use them well.'

And after he had slipped the chain around her neck, Radagast had kissed her forehead and then turned to depart. Elbren had placed his hand upon her shoulder as she sat there, looking at the stone now around her neck as it brightened and warmed her with its healing touch. She wondered at all that this stone could do and why she had been chosen to receive it. Yet in a way, she knew part of the answer to the question. She would ask Elbren another time to explain it further to her, when there was time for such a discussion. She did not feel that now was that time. She looked up to see that Elbren had escorted the wizard Radagast towards the door and that they were speaking in hushed tones. They grasped each others arms in the fashion of the Mithril Knights handshake and the wizard departed from them. Then Elbren made his way back to her.

'It is time that you rested. We will speak of this another time but for now, know that you have had a great gift bestowed upon you. I know of this stone and of his carrying it, looking for its proper ... host, for lack of a better word. I am honored that it is one of our order. For now, keep it secret. There is a breakfast planned for the morrow, and I have an announcement to make then. I hope that you will be up for the upcoming journey.'

"I am feeling better, but is it wise for me to go? Is not my recent ordeal a determent for the other Knights?"

'I think not. I would rather have you with us, than apart from us, especially now. I do know that this necklace and ring have healing properties. You only need to be wearing one of them, albeit the necklace is stronger, but the ring can help also when alone. For now, do not take it off and wear the ring in the open if you like. But the necklace should stay under your clothing, hidden, until we can speak further on this. If anyone sees it and asks, it was a gift from Radagast. Do not go into details about the reason behind it for now.'

"Yes Lord Elbren. I understand." And at that she bent her head, took off the necklace, removed the ring from the chain at the clasped area (which was a puzzle in itself), and then put the necklace back on and then the ring. She stood and made her way to the door as Elbren held it for her. "You need rest also Elbren, for our leader needs his strength for the coming days, and for clarity of thought."

'Yes you are right M'lady. I will try to do so, if nothing pressing happens this night.'

"Good. I will see you in the morning then to break our fast together. Goodnight."

'Good night.' And that was when she had gone up the stairs to her room, passing no one else for the late hour. She had gone there and rested on her bed in her rooms. She rose late and refreshed herself before making her way to the breakfast. She entered dressed for traveling in a darker purple tunic and breeches just after Elbren had asked who would go with him. Athelos prepared a plate for her and handed her a glass of juice and water queitly as Elbren finished speaking.

"I will journey with you Lord Elbren" was her response. Many of the other Knights sat in shock as she was still slightly pale yet they could see that she was much more composed for the ordeal that she had undergone. With surprise in some of their voice's, she was cautioned not to rush things, to take time to heal. Then Elbren spoke as he looked at her, a knowing look past between them before he spoke amid the talk that was directed towards her.

'Lady Idril, thank you for offering to go. I accept your offer. Anyone else?' Then silence was stifling as the others felt her either to weak or too much of a threat as her 'battle with evil' had been passing through the halls of their Guild. Some felt her a greater risk and menace to be around, others were just unsure. Elbren waited to see if anyone else would go with them. The tension grew as each Knight contemplated travelling with them.

'I will journey with you Elbren. No craven am I, to huddle in a safe house, awaiting the hour of doom. And unless I judge my comrades ill, there are none of that most despised breed among them. Let us depart swiftly, though many say yea or nay, for the enemy has in full measure what we have not: time.'

He stood before them, young and yet seemingly ages old, and for a moment his eyes glimmered with some long gone vision, though none there could guess what he saw, and his voice became forceful, though not harsh on the ear. Then the moment passed, and he was Aurandir, of the House of Fingolfin.

"I will go as well," Elenath said. She felt a vague sadness as she looked at the gathered Knights, listening as they pledged their support, one by one. She had been here too often, watching men and elves set out to their deaths. How many this time? she thought. And each one of their losses would be grevious. But slowly the determination of battle hardened inside her. No matter what the end, they would make their enemy pay dearly.

"You know me, Lord Elbren. I will always go where the action is, our Council willing." Mirdain took a dagger out of his belt, spun it and jabbed it into the table for emphasis. He was long-healed from the leg injury he had suffered in their previous adventure. Idril's renewed vigor gave him added strength. "I've come to look forward to a good fight," Mirdain said, almost to himself.

The room grew with familiar faces'the power of friendship both new and of years long past began to gather around. Parador was pleased to see Idril'no voice of evil in its most powerful of tonics could over take the mind and spirit of this loyal and wise healer. The Mithril Knight walked over to Idril taking her hand in arm''My sword and shield are already accepted by the Lord on our demon quest'for it is the demon Saruman who seeks your life Idril'and whomever else he can lay claim to.'

A smile of hope from Parador gave way in comforting Idril'knowing of the tension that had grown within the guild brought a relief to the healer''It is good to see that you are doing better Lady Idril'...Mirdan pulled his dagger back out of the table...walking back over to the one heart he belonged too and faught for stood ever valiant and protective of her...

'Saruman does not know in whom he is dealing with''spoke Parador evenly without any tone to her voice''but soon'he will get that chance'

'Parador turned catching Elbren's eye'both gave nod to the understanding of the path that lie ahead them'

Tempest rose from the chair next to the hearth speaking in a low irritable tone''The time grows treacherous for every hour we wait'where is Dirk, why has he not returned yet'?'speaking his name brought her thoughts immediately to when she first made eye contact with him...their gaze lingering into years long past'yes'she indeed recognized him'along with the father within'the encounter haunting her'

'He must return with the spear of Oromé if we are to have even the slightest of hope for a victory'

'Patience Tempest''eyed Elbren''he will be here soon'he will succeed in the mission given him'

Parador watched Aurandir'remembering the incident in the library where Idril had fallen into darkness and the words he had spoken to the shadow and flames of the fireplace'the Black Speech was not a language spoken commonly amongst men and elves'this caught her interest and she had means to find out more'

Lady Elenath took her place next to Aurandir and the rest of the knights...Parador reminded herself that she was in need of introducing herself to the new Mithril Knight...but this would have to wait...

for at that time Dirk of Esgaroth entered through the doors bearing the Spear of Oromé...a few gasps were heard has he carried the relic power to Lord Elbren'

Parador notice a change in him'his countenance seemed to shine...his encounter with the Sea King, Ulmo went well...

The room gasped as Dirk entered with the shrouded Spear of Oromé. He hardly noticed the other gathered Knights as he stumbled to Elbren and knelt, presenting the midnight-blue velvet-covered object to the Guildmaster. As Elbren took hold of the Spear, Dirk collapsed upon the floor. Many of those gathered converged upon the young knight and when his unconscious body was turned over another gasp, followed by hushed exclamations, reverberated through the crowd.

Dirk's hands, face, hair, tunic and breeches were soaked with blood. Curiously, the new Mithril Cloak was free of stain, which is why it wasn't noticed upon Dirk's entrance.

However, no injury could be found by those who inspected him.

"This is not his blood," said Athelos.

"Indeed," followed Elbren, "and half of it is the black blood of orcs. It seems our young comrade has had to cut his was back to us. Yet it still took only five days to complete his mission. It is a credit to his resolve and loyalty."

"And to the fine horse that carries him," added Parador.

Tempest, who was surprisingly among the first to Dirk's side when he swooned, reported, "He is exhausted but, aside from a few bruises, unhurt."

Dirk was given an herbal tincture which revived him a little. Servants in the house cleansed the blood and stripped his soiled outer layers whilst he told his tale. He had slept only in short snatches since his return from the Drúadan gift-giving; and had not slept at all since he had retrieved the Spear and witnessed the sea-lord's message.

He reported everything he could remember of the journey to the secret Guilhouse and the retrieval of the spear, including the ominous feeling of being watched while within the house, as well as his encounter with Ulmo.

"I was so shaken by his words that I could not rest upon the ride back," he said.

His face twisted, as he recalled the grim images into his mind.

He continued, "Then, when I was within only a few hours of Edoras, I encountered the first of the Red Hammer scouts: Orcs and Dwarves, speaking in the language of Mordor and patrolling the borders of Rohan. It took nearly an entire day to find a way through for I had discovered that every approach to Edoras is held by the enemy in secret - just beyond the limits of our vision, even for the elves among us. I skirted the borders and was discovered several times trying to find a way through, not for lack of stealth, but because they gather in such numbers as not to afford even a few feet through which to pass quielty. The Gap of Rohan is held, and Orcs scramble upon the slopes of the Ered Nimrais. I found a seemingly unguarded pass in the foothils at the southern end of the Gap and Endlómë slowly climbed without resistance. But as we descended, I was ambushed and had to kill many before I finally gained the plains below and was able to use my horse's speed to flee."

As Dirk's story sunk in to the listeners, food and wine was brought to the young man. Still fatigued, but beginning to regain more and more strength, Dirk asked for news of what had come to pass at Edoras while he was away. Upon learning of the imminent departure of the Mithril Knights, Dirk spoke up. Elbren and several others were across the room pouring over maps and formulating a plan for their next move.

"Master Elbren," Dirk raised his cracked voice just enough for the Guildmaster to hear over his counsellors.

"Yes, Sir Dirk."

"If the next mission can wait until morning, I would like to join you and the party that is to ride forth. All I require is a bit of rest and I shall be fit to ride... and fight... again."

Elbren nodded at the Knights gathered in the meeting room, "The time has come, then, for us to prepare for our task. Sir Dirk speaks truth when he says that we are all in need of rest and meditation ere we depart. The enemy is at the gates, mellyn, we must move swiftly and with stealth when we depart. For that reason, we shall travel only at night. We must reach Amon Lhaw before the Dark Moon. Yet, we await word from Lady Rholarowyn and Lord Erinhue. We shall wait until sunset tomorrow, and then depart as soon as darkness allows. Until then, rest and prepare yourselves."

"What path shall we take?" Idril asked.

Elbren pointed to several maps on a nearby table, "We shall make for the most direct route to Anduin, South of Rauros. There, we will cross the river and then make our way up to Amon Lhaw. It shall not be an easy crossing and, no doubt, we will have to leave our horses on the Western shore and then move by foot. It shall not be an easy climb either, but we have no time to go farther south to find a more narrow point."

"And once we reach The Hill of Hearing?"

"Then we shall strike with the Spear of Orome and pray that we break Saruman's spell."

"M'lord," Athelos entered the room with one of Eomer's Royal Guards, "Sir Halma has a message from King Eomer."

"Welcome," Elbren greeted, though he sensed something urgent about the visitor, "please, speak. What says the King?"

"One of our eoreds has been attacked and scouts report the enemy is moving upon the Plains. We are moving to Helm's Deep and only leaving a small garrison here in Edoras. The King feels that war is upon us."

"Indeed," Elbren nodded to Dirk, "one of our own Order has been attacked upon your lands. The King is right to move his defense to Helm's Deep. We shall remain here until sunset tomorrow, and then we, too, shall depart."

"Then you shall fight with us, M'lord?" Sir Halma asked.

"No," Elbren frowned, "we have our own course to take that cannot be denied. Still, though, what we do will aid you. Once we have completed our task, we shall come to Helm's Deep, if we can."

Halma looked disappointed, but he simply nodded in return and then departed in silence. Elbren watched him leave and then turned to the Knights.

"Let us prepare for our task. I shall remain here for awhile to study the maps and see if there may be a swifter way. Aurandir, please make sure that we are adequately supplied with all that we may need'ropes for climbing being among them, please. Perhaps Elenath can assist you in this. Mirdain, please take the Spear and secure it in the armory until we depart. The rest of you, rest'prepare yourselves."

As the Knights began to disperse, Elbren called to Dirk and asked the young Knight to join him by the fire, "I shall not keep you long, Sir Dirk, for you are in need of recuperation after your journey. I thank you, Dirk, for your efforts and your courage. The road is still long, though, for us, but I will be much comforted that you shall be in our company for this task. Go now, and rest."

When Dirk got up to leave, Elbren then called for Parador, "M'lady, I shall ask for your assistance in perusing these maps. You have recently journeyed this route, perhaps together we can find the path that will lead us to Amon Lhaw unscathed."

Tempest was not able to mask her disapproval when Dirk relayed his story to them. Why had Elbren sent only a single knight to retrieve the Spear? It could have fallen into enemy hands and then all their hopes would have been dashed. Still, no harm had come of it, so she kept her disapproval to herself. When Elbren had asked for volunteers, she had not joined her voices to the others, for she was deep in thought. When Dirk had entered suddenly, she had simply reacted mechanically to the crisis, though her concern was genuine.

The other knights withdrew for the night, all preparing for the morrow when they would depart again. Tempest lingered near the door briefly to talk with Elbren before she checked in on Idril. She had not spoken at length the elven lady since she had come out of her trance, and she had a few questions she wished to ask her. She was not entirely certain that Idril's ordeal was quite over yet.

'Elbren, I did not speak earlier because I had not the time, but my sword is with you. I would like to be counted among those who bring an end to this new evil.'

'I am glad of it. I wondered greatly at your silence, but you are not bound to come with us if caution leads you in other ways,' he said gravely.

'I have never been one to worry about caution,' she said with a dark smile. 'I always seem to find myself in the path of the storm. In fact, you always seem to be there as well.'

He smiled. 'Parador and I are going to look over these maps to find the best course for our travels tomorrow. Would you like to stay and assist us?'

'I am certain you can manage it without me. I was going to speak with Idril,' she replied and started for the door. 'Oh, and another thing: Be certain to bring herbs to treat poison. Orcs are so fond of poison, no matter who their Master is.' She paused as if reminded of something. ' Perhaps I should check on Dirk as well before I retire.'

'He needs his rest,' Elbren said.

'Yes, but just the same, I think I will. Goodnight.'

Idril had made her way to her rooms to rest but she could not for some time. She was thinking of all that had happened to her lately and she was making a decision about her life. She was looking out at the sky, watching the sun as it began to set later and then as the stars came out. She thought of her home and all that she had left there; all that she had lost in her life. Later she lay upon her bed and listened to all the sounds as they died down, as different Knights were setting about their tasks of readying themselves and then going to rest. Soon the Guild house was quiet. And she started to think of her most recent struggle and what it could mean. She drifted in and out of conscience thoughts most of the night.

Dirk set the handful of biscuits he found from the feast a few nights before upon the little table in his room. He then began to peel away the layers of armour and clothing. He found that his muscles were beginning to stiffen and that he was in more pain than he expected from the bumps and bruises that he had collected in cutting a swath through the Red Hammer patrols.

Chalking up the intensification of the aches and soreness to the lack of sleep and proper food, Dirk bathed, dressed in the linen nightshirt he had been provided, and sat at the table to munch on the biscuits before retiring.

Without warning he was wracked with pain and paralysis. He fell from his seat with a thud. He lay there on the floor, sweating with fever; his open eyes unseeing. In his mind, he spun in the darkness, surrounded by a cacophony of malevolent voices. The disembodied taunts, howls, jeers, and peals of laughter came at the young mortal man from all sides. He was caught between waking and sleeping; at once aware of the hard floor beneath him and the room about him and yet he felt only the icy blackness of the abyss, saw only the utter inky black of that realm and heard only the horrific voices. They called to him in every language of Middle-earth and beyond.

He needed to cry out. He needed to get up. He had to free himself from this nightmare.

But he was completely powerless to help himself. He hoped that someone would find him before he slipped irretrievably into madness.

'Aye, Elbren''Parador took to the map tracing the path across the River Entwash to the mouth of the Rauros Falls from Edoras''Dirk's encounter with the Red Hammer scouts was about 2 hours south of Edoras'the Gap of Rohan is being held and the White Mountains are crawling with Orcs and Dwarves'Tempest is right, time grows treacherous for every hour that goes by'It won't be long before our own departure is stolen'I recommend a scout or two be sent M'lord to see what lies ahead of us and to lead the way to the base of the Rauros Falls'

'I would like to take this mission if granted Lord Elbren''The Mithril Knight spoke without hesitant'for the road ahead of them would prove very dangerous'if but one could lay a path before them alerting and clearing a way any possible surprise attacks that would a ford them allowing a safer passage to Amon Lhaw'

Elbren listened intently nodding as Parador continued to speak'' We will cross the East Emnet lands making straightway to the base of Rauros Falls then crossing the mighty river into Nindalf'

'And the only bearer to slow us down at this point will be to climb the sheer walls of Emyn Muil''spoke Elbren''There is no time to find a sinking slope that meet the plains...We must get to Amon Lhaw'we have to find a way up those cliffs'

'We will M'lord'we always do. The Valar are with us'

Parador straightened up from the desk'the guild house was filled with an uneasiness'darkness was about its work touching each of the knights'what was felt by one'was felt by all. Elbren too notice'turning to the door'

'Ready your gear and horse Parador''spoke Elbren as he starred hard into the carved wooden doors''I will ask for another knight to join you'the danger is too great for just one to go''turning back to the knight in all earnest'''if all goes well, we will meet you at the west shore of the River Anduin'do not cross until we arrive. If you run into any Orcs or Dwarves'stay your hand'and send word'

'Aye, It will be done''The Mithril Knight departed the meeting room making way to prepare for her departure'Athelos joined her in the hallway as Parador walked to her room

Tempest had knocked softly on Idril's door and after several moments, a very sleepy Idril opened it, squinting in the torchlight. "I am sorry if I woke you," Tempest exclaimed apologetically. "I only wished to see if you were feeling better."

"Nothing a good rest can't help," was Idril's reply.

"If you need anything, or if you remember anything more, you know where to find me," Tempest said, grasping the elven woman's hand.

Idril nodded. "I will."

"Good night. May you find pleasant dreams."

______________________________________________________________________

Tempest closed the door and followed the dimly lighted hallway to Dirk's room. She hesitated before she knocked, for she remembered Elbren's warning. Dirk might already be sleeping, and it would be unwise to disturb him. She lifted her hand and knocked gingerly at the door.

Silence.

She paused again. He was most likely sleeping. She should just return to her room and rest herself. Then again, maybe he was awake and hadn't heard her. She knocked again, this time louder.

Still silence. There was no movement at all within the room.

"He must be sleeping. I'll just check on him in the morning," Tempest thought to herself. She turned away and started towards her own room. She halted mid-stride. She would really feel better if she could just see if Dirk was all right....

"Stop being ridiculous!" she chided herself. "Since when did you become superstitious?" Still, she retraced her steps to Dirk's door and waited, pressing her ear to the wood and listening. If she could just hear any movement, she would feel better.

Nothing.

She sighed and banged loudly on the door. "Dirk?" she called.

Not even a rustling of the bed clothes.

"Dirk!" she said, raising her voice. She dropped to her knees and looked under the door, hoping to see anything. It was dark inside.

Then, she heard something, a small scratching noise coming from the room. Instead of calming her fears, the grating sound only caused her heart to beat faster. "Dirk! I'm coming in!" she shouted. She rammed herself against the door, but found herself jarred by the impact. The door was heavy and solid. She threw herself against it again.

Mirdain came out of his room, which was only at the end of the hall. "What are you doing?" he asked in alarm.

"Breaking down the door!" she yelled.

"Why on Middle earth are you doing that?"

"For fun!" she said angrily. Mirdain stared at her for a moment and then disappeared down the hall again. He came back with a battle axe.

"Perhaps this will work better than your shoulder," he offered. Tempest gave him a withering look, but snatched the weapon from his hand and with a few swings, had cut the door in twain.

It was dark within, and Mirdain and she looked in warily. "Maybe we should alert the others," he began to say.

"No, first we find Dirk." Tempest ventured into the room and suddenly tripped on a large object obstructing her path. She gasped and raised the battle axe, but then, on further examination, called for light. Dirk was laying on the floor, his face deathly pale.

"He is wounded!" Mirdain cried.

"I don't think so. He resembles Idril in her sickness, does he not?' she said. 'Mirdain, don't alert the others quite yet.'

She turned to Dirk and examined his features. His breathing was labored, and she could sense a struggle beneath the surface of his pale face. 'Dirk,' she said softly.

Then her face hardened. 'Be gone, foul wind of Saruman!' she hissed in the Black Speech. 'He is not one of yours!'

Dirk suddenly opened his eyes and gave her a mocking smile. Both Tempest and Mirdain jumped back in horror, for his face held a wicked sneer. Just as quickly as it came though, it was gone, and Dirk had sunk back into unconsciousness.

'I do not like this,' Tempest said in contemplation. 'Soon, we may all be under his spell. I just do not understand how he is able to exert this control over us!'

'Well, Idril opened herself to him, and perhaps Dirk did as well,' Mirdain offered.

'Or perhaps, his fatigue made him more susceptible,' Tempest mused. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. 'Mirdain, go retrieve that box we found, the one which may have held the Arkenstone!'

'Where'.' he began.

'It's in the armory. Go quickly and bring Elbren as well!'

______________________________________________________________________________________

A few minutes later, Elbren, Mirdain, Tempest and a few other Mithril Knights who had stumbled sleepily from their rooms were gathered in Dirk's bedchambers. Tempest was holding the box in her hand and a knife in the other. She was prying the velvet lining of the jewel box off. The other Knights were exchanging glances, but none of them questioned what she was doing. When she was finished, she turned the box to them triumphantly. On the bottom, beneath the lining, there stood the angry red symbol of the Red Hammer Clan.

'What does it mean?' Elbren asked in a puzzled voice.

'Touch the emblem,' she ordered him.

He did and pulled his hand back in surprise. 'It's hot!'

'Yes, this is how he has caused sickness among us. A symbol of his power. We brought him into the Guildhouse with us when we took this box,' Tempest said. 'It is an ancient art, to produce evil symbols that have power to harm. If we destroy this, Dirk's torment will end.'

'How do we destroy it?'

'I do not know, but we should at least remove it from the house.'

Elbren took it from her and hurried away. Tempest watched him from the window as he took the hated box out of the Guild House. Dirk began stirring almost immediately, though he did not awaken for several more minutes. 'Well, that solves one problem,' Tempest said darkly. 'Now we just have to see how much damage he did to Dirk before we could stop him.'

Mirdain was distressed at how easily they had been manipulated, and he worried about the full extent of Saruman's reach. At such a crucial time, they could not all be dropping off like flies. As soon as Elbren left the room with the cursed thing and Mirdain began to feel a little less tense, he anounced, "I think i'll just go back to my room. I will most likely be awake for awhile, thinking, in case any of you need me."

When Mirdain returned to his room, he sat down heavily in his chair and tried to organize his thoughts. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance and it chilled him. He was trying to imagine the many possible courses their mission could take, good and bad.

Idril had heard the thud and then the loud banging and shouting of Tempest just down the hall. She wasn't feeling herself when Tempest came but she had tried to cover it up. But now she decided to go and see what the commotion was and if she might help. She arrived just after they had broken the door to Sir Dirk's room and she had watched from behind as Tempest and Mirdain walked in to see if Sir Dirk was ok and what was wrong. When she heard her curious 'ailment'

mentioned, she went white again just before she felt the rock at her neck growing warmer. Unbeknownst to her, her hand went to its hiding place, and she slowly moved forward towards Tempest, Mirdain and Dirk.

She came upon Tempest's back as the lady began speaking the Black Speech, which in turn brought Idril to her knees just behind them both. She almost stopped breathing due to a refreshed pain in her head, and she had her head in her hands when they both turned to see her fall to the floor with one hand on her chest and the other on her head as if she were in tremendous pain. When she heard Tempest say that Mirdain should go to the armoury, she slowly picked herself up and asked Tempest if she could help in anyway. Tempest did not want to risk the Lady Idril's condition again so soon so she asked for her to get some water for Sir Dirk and a damp rag. Idril, moving slowly, went to the water basis and got both a rag and a glass of water for her. They waited together for Mirdain to return with Elbren. They spoke briefly.

"I would like to ask you some questions about ... all this."

'Yes Idril, I too would like to speak with you, when you are stronger. I am waiting for a more appropriate time. Now is not that time, not yet.' And with that they made eye contact and an unspoken understanding went between them as they both smiled a very weak smile one to the other. They waited the rest of the time in silence, working over Dirk to make him more comfortable.

Soon Elbren and Mirdain returned and a discussion about the article that was found in the stables ensued and she was trying to piece it altogether when she decided that she could not really do anything to help Dirk. So she excused herself, telling all that she was returning to her rooms. She did that, noticing the damaged door and wondering why it was even locked or blocked from the inside. There didn't seem to be anything there that would have been such a strong blocking agent and the bolt didn't seem to have been used. The two chair's in the room were across the room with the table, no where near the door. And there didn't seem to be anything else that could have blocked the door anywhere near it. Curious. She gave thought to all these things as she made her way back to her rooms.

Dirk stirred slowly at first, but grew increasingly more restless unilt, at length, his eyes opened. Immediately, fear was written in his face - fear of the place he had just left, and fear of those gathered around him. He recoiled at first, his expression was desperate and disoriented, like a prey animal cornered by hunting lions; and he was unable to speak.

Slowly the look of a frightened animal fled his features and he returned to the present situation recognizing the faces and the intent of those gathered about him. He sighed and relaxed. When he spoke, his voice was weak and barely audible.

"What's happened?"

"Nevermind that right now," Elbren answered, "We've found the cause of the torment that has afflicted you just now and removed it. You should get some real rest now."

They helped Dirk transfer into another room, though none would touch his blade or armor. Once ensconced in his new accomodations, Dirk was examined once more and found to be fit enough to be left alone to sleep.

Elbren produced a leaf and instructed Dirk to chew it for a few seconds and remove it from his mouth. He did so and almost instantly became drowsy. Dirk had to fight off sleep to hear the Guildmaster's final words.

"This will give you dreamless, restful sleep. At dawn you will be sent for and we will hear what you can tell about what happened to you."

If there was anymore, Dirk did not hear it, as he was fast asleep.

*************************************************

As promised, at dawn there came a knock at the door.

"Sir Dirk?"

He woke easily, refreshed for the first time in days.

"Yes."

"Your presence will be required in the Guildmaster's study in one hour's time."

"Thank you." Dirk replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

As the footsteps of the retreating servant faded away, Dirk stood, splashed some of the cool water in the nearby basin onto his face and dressed himself. The young Knight arrayed himself for traveland battle: clothes, armor, and cloak. But his weapons he left in his room, in accordance with Mithril Knight regulations.

He found the kitchen and ate a hot breakfast of eggs and sausage.

He was feeling stronger and more fit than he had since he first entered the guildhouse.

...And this feeling he expressed to Lord Elbren upon passing the open doors to the guildmaster's study.

"I thank you for you care, my Lord. I feel much better."

"I am glad of that, Dirk. You gave us a fright last night. Now that you are here, take a seat and we will begin."

Dirk looked about the room and saw that every Mithril Knight that was in the house had gathered about the study in an informal arrangement of comfortable leather armchairs. He found his seat beside Idril and settled into the deep upholstery.

Elbren began, "Me meet here this morning to briefly discuss the attacks upon Lady Idril and Sir Dirk yesterday, as well as to brief all of you on the next phase of our task: riding to Amon Lhaw and dispelling the evil power that sits there now."

The guildmaster addressed them, "Dirk, Idril, what can you recall of your incidents?"

Dirk turned to Idril to see if she wished to speak first. However, her face was contorted with pain. He surmised that because she was afflicted for much longer and perhaps more deeply, that the memory of the incident caused her more pain. She would apparently require a few moments to compose herself before she could recount her experience. Therefore Dirk spoke first.

"My Lord, I only remember blackness. I had the sensation of falling into the abyss. Spinning..." his eyes were open, but he did not see anything of the room he was in, but rather he saw the shadow world into which his father was banished.

"...And there were voices," he continued, "chiding and insulting. And laughter. Hideous laughter. In every language they goaded me and called me coward and even worse..."

Dirk cast his gaze towards the firelit hearth, "I am sorry, I cannot..."

Elbren raised a sympathetic hand, "That is enough Sir Dirk, you need not cause yourself any more grief. I do, however, pray you will answer one other question: was it Saruman?"

"I do not know, my Lord. I did not see him."

Dirk sat in silence for a moment. None spoke for they could see that he was deep in thought.

His grinding, creaking voice was low, as if he did not wish for the wrong ears to catch his words, "I cannot adjudge whether or not Saruman is behind this. I will say that I have had that nightmare before. But it was just that - a nightmare - and nothing more. It was always less intense and never have I been affected physically as I was last night." He swallowed hard. "Whatever assaulted me, whether it was the wizard's spirit or some other power, used my own inner...demons. It took the fears and nightmare images that have already been deeply seeded in my mind and made them worse. It made them.....real."

Dirk's face was pale and his grey eyes were far-off and haunted.

"Thank you, Sir Dirk," Elbren said and turned to Idril.

"Lady Idril, are you able to tell us about your experience? Was it the same with you as Dirk has described?"

Slowly, the feeling of dread melted from Dirk and the pallor subsided as he awaited Idril's response.

Idril had to give thought to her experience and dreaded the telling of it for she knew she would relive it as well. She sat quietly waiting as Sir Dirk told of his experience as it was the most recent and she had to compose herself, gain control before she opened herself up again. She feared that each time she would re-tell this story, it would be as a fresh and open wound, always painfilled. She began slowly.

"Thank you Sir Dirk for allowing me time to collect my thoughts. And may I say Welcome to you now as I have not had the chance up until now. To begin with, when I walked into Sir Dirk's room last night, just as Tempest was speaking the Black Speech, it brought me to my knees and a torment was inside my head ... and heart. It was as if the speech alone would drive me mad. I recovered as she finished but it seemed to have a longer effect on me as I seemed slow after that, not myself. I left soon after your arrival and needed to rest."

'I remember you did not seem yourself M'Lady. Can you tell us of the affliction that came upon you here in my study? Why you took the potion and of the experience that you underwent?' Idril stood and walked to the fire as if she were freezing, warming herself, even though the room was quite warm. She turned back to her fellow Knights and started to speak.

"It started, now that I think of it, all the way back at the Falls of Rauros when heaviness of the darkness weighted upon all our hearts, minds and souls as the stars and moon vanished before our very eyes and the evil Black Speech was heard. My ears began to bleed some as did my nose as I attempted to save Thalion, but I was able to hide this from the rest of you. Later I was sent to look for the star charts without any luck and while I was looking for them I got to thinking that the Dwarf Falin might have something to hide in his room, as I had seen whom I believed was him with some thick parchments tucked under his belt. The more thought I gave it, the more it made sense that maybe he had some maps and that I had heard a strange sound come from his rooms one night. Since his death, and due to the strange occurances, I decided to take a look in his room for anything out of place.

While in his room, I moved his bed and found a loose stone and when I looked, I found there the star charts and a map that became my focus. I replaced everything and made my way down to the study again leaving a clue for Elbren of where I was. I stoked the fire up and lite the candlebra so that I could study the charts and map. I was certain of what I had found and wanted to be sure of it before Sir Dirk's initiation was finished, to have most of the answers for Lord Elbren when he was finished." She had walked a little, more of a pacing than anything, as she spoke of the past things. Then stopped by a window, looking out with glazed eyes of memory before turning back and making her way to the very desk where she had inadvertantly, loosed a mighty evil. She reached out to touch the desk and just before she did, she pulled her hand back as if badly burned. Her voice took on a softer, more far off quality as she again spoke. As if she were reliving her experience and was speaking from a deep hole.

"I made a tea, initially to help me stay alert but then my curiosity got the better of me. I decided to create a different kind of tea, a seers tea, awakening the sense's. I wanted to know what the maps wording was in hopes of sharing it with Lord Elbren when he finished the initiation. I thought there would be directions or a secret to what we had just gone through, hopefully a secret would be revealed as to what the Red Hammer was doing and why. I took great pains when touching it, not directly but used something else to move the map around. I studied it for some time before drinking the tea. I expected to 'hear' the Black Speech or to understand the writings around the map. I did not expect the next thing.

I could hear a voice and feel heat, I saw a great eye but I could not at this time make out what was said due to the pain. There was tremendous pain surrounding me and I could not concentrate on where it came from. I heard another voice before blackness consumed me. I seemed to wake some where deep inside Middle Earth, down near its middle for there was no natural light. I was in chains and felt like I had been beaten. It felt like a nightmare but there was a pain all around me that I couldn't deny. The 'Voice' told me things, things that are true, things that have been and have happened." She turned again from the fire to face her fellow Knights as she began to relive it all again, hearing the voice and holding her head in her hands, shaking uncontrollably, she continued as best she could.

"I remember that the 'Voice' would speak and I would be in tremendous pain for some time before blackness would take me. I do not know what the 'Voice' was wanting or if it thought that I knew of some secret, just that it seemed to probe my mind over and over again. How long ago this took place, I am not even sure of. I remember your voice calling to me Tempest, helping me to find my way out of the blackness. You took 'It' on didn't you? You spoke to the 'Voice' that was controlling me. And you Mirdain, you helped her, and me, with your crystal, healing me, calling me back. Thank you ... " Tears began to fall unchecked down her cheeks. She turned back to the fire, hiding her face and gaining control of herself and her emotions. She was not one to show weakness to anyone.

When she had gained her composure again she began with a fresh voice, strong once more. "But I do know that there is a plan in the works and those star charts and the maps I found, are key to finding the secret, if the secret is not written on them. I believe that these maps will lead us to where the heart of the matter lies."

Elbren stood in his chambers, looking at the maps strewn across the table while the dying fire cracked and popped a few of its last burning embers.

The sense of urgency within his heart had risen to a new height. They could delay no longer. With a final nod of his head, to no one in particular, the Elven Lord opened his door and was not surprised to find Athelos already waiting.

"Inform those that will ride with me to Amon Lhaw that we depart in two hours. We will meet in the stables. Once we have departed, it would not be wise for anyone to remain in Edoras. Any of our Order who is not going to Amon Lhaw should go to Helm's Deep to assist the Rohirrim or go to Orthanc and await us there."

"And what of the Knights and Knights in Training who are at Orthanc now?" Athelos asked.

"If they should return after our departure, they should seek the same refuge either in Helm's Deep or Orthanc," Elbren replied.

"And if they have learned something that you must know?"

"It will be a dangerous journey to try and follow us," Elbren mused, "but, if you, Rho, or Erinhue feel that we must know, then someone must make that journey."

Athelos nodded with worry etched upon her face. "What is your path?"

"We will make for the river just below the Falls of Rauros with all haste and stealth. With hard riding, we should be there within two days....nights, really, since we will use the cover of darkness. Once there, we will leave the horses and cross the waters as best we can."

"And then? Scale the walls of the Emyn Muil to Amon Lhaw?" Athelos sounded skeptical."

"Aye, we have no other choice," Elbren frowned.

"May Varda watch over you, then, and may Mandos grant you the wings of his Eagles, M'lord, for to find the pinnacle of Amon Lhaw, that is precisely what you shall need."

Elbren was none too amused nor appreciative of Athelos' doubt, "We will do what we must."

Athelos nodded again, "Well, Lord Elbren, remember to keep your eyes open and watch your enemy closely; he may well reveal another way."

Elbren was too annoyed to even pay her words much mind, but he pretended to acknowledge them anyway.

**************************

Two hours later, he was in the stables and leading Erelas out of his stall....the time for departure had come.

'What is it?'why are you stopping'?

'Do you not hear it'the wailing'?'shifting her weight on her horse turning her ear to both the West and then to the East Parador listened'it grew louder at that moment and then rescinded. All was quiet once more'not even the wind gave utterance to the direction the agonizing sound had come from.

The moon shown brightly on the two riders'the wide-open range of the land gave way for no coverage to hide the two Mithril Knights from unfriendly eyes''Halith, we must ride hard and fast across this unprotected plain before we are spotted if not already'I had not counted on the moon giving us away to the enemy. Lord Elbren and the others should have left already, lets hope they make it across without any incident'

'Come, let us ride'I anticipate the wailing sound to make known its presence again'it's as a beacon of sorts'calling us ''.

'To Amon Lhaw perhaps''spoke Halith

The sun rose high above them when Halith and Parador arrived at the west shores of the Anduin River'both scouts stayed within the shadows looking for unwanted company to be about. Off to the south a few leagues away from where they stood shouting could be heard'a few Uruk-Hai and Dwarves were standing around shouting at each other''No one put you in charge Dwarven mites'!'.growled one of the Orcs''as long as we are band together we take no orders from you''its large stature bared down on the shrinking Dwarf as a another brought its axe within an inch of the Uruk's foot'

'If I were you, I would watch what I say Uruk stench!'or your leg will be missing its foot'makes walking a bit hard if ya know whatta I mean laddie''still eyeing the ugly beast with a stubborn look ''We may be small in stature, but we can swing an axe faster than you can lift that sword of yours'

Without taking her eye off the enemy Parador spoke''Halith,' you must go and meet up with Elbren'give him word that we have company''turning she took her hand and clasped the knight's arm firmly''I know I don't have to say it'but I will anyway'be careful. Lord Elbren does not need to lose a knight'or a friend'

'Yes,' I will'with any luck they keep up the arguing we may not have to slay them'they will take care of this themselves''smiling as he rose, Halith departed on foot leading his steed behind him'

Parador continued to watch and listen'the time had not been long when she heard an agonizing scream. Jumping up carefully from her perch she made her way to where she heard the sound'an Orc laid in a pool of blood'looking over the grounds quickly she spotted a trail of blood which was embedded within each horse track as it made its way west'Parador knew Halith had been wounded and yet was able to continue the journey'

'May Elbereth be with you Halith''she whispered and made her way back to where she lay hidden from view'the wailing had returned'this time she knew from where it came'her eyes followed the cry toward the sheer cliffs ascending the east side of the Rauros Falls'

Mirdain was well-rested and prepared for the journey ahead. He had done nothing but think of possible outcomes before falling asleep the previous night. Of course, Mirdain had not counted on Elbren giving them a choice of going to Helms Deep or remaining in Edoras as well. However, Mirdain had developed a growing sympathy for the many helpless people in Rohan, given all the wars they had endured. He felt they might need all the help they could get. But then, so would his friend and leader Elbren. And certainly not least of all, his beloved Idril, wherever she might choose to go.

Mirdain carried with him; his bow and quiver, his sword, lighter armor for riding, a waterskin, and a supply of lembas which had not been touched since their previous trip to Ahmon Law. His horse Alatariel awaited him in the stables. Elbren was also there. Mirdain was the first to see him.

"Lord Elbren, I am fairly certain I will be going to Ahmon Law. That is, unless Idril will not. Please understand."

"Of course. I know it would be difficult to separate the two of you."

"Thank you. I just have this gnawing feeeling that the people of Rohan will be in terrible jeopardy, even back at Helm's Deep."

"Trust your feelings. I don't doubt they will be in jeopardy. I'm hoping to complete our mission at Ahmon Law as quickly and efficiently as possible, so we can rush to the aid of those at Helm's Deep."

"Yes, I am hoping for that too. But I was also thinking, maybe we should send some of our Order to aid in the fight at Helm's Deep for the time being. It is by no means certain that we could get there in time to help Rohan if it is in immediate danger."

"I would not worry too deeply, Mirdain. I'm sure that some will go with the Rohirrim. We have not gotten word back from Parador recently. She may not be able to follow us. We shall see. In any case, I am confident that Rohan will have help. And I assure you again, it will be my greatest priority to make for Helm's Deep with all haste after we achieve our goal at Ahmon Law."

"Thank you, Lord Elbren. May Elbereth bring us success."

Dirk had already prepared for departure and was sitting astride Endlómë in the outer court of the stables when the guildmaster emerged from the building leading his mount.

Dirk's eyes were clear and his jaw set in resolution.

"I am prepared to ride with you to Amon Lhaw."

"That is good young Knight. We will need your eyes, ears, strength and sword before all is said and done."

Dirk caught sight of the enshrouded Spear lashed to Elbren's saddle.

"What can we expect when the Spear is thrust into the stone of the Seat of Hearing atop the Hill of the Ear?"

"I cannot say. No one has ever used such a weapon in this way against a power like the one we face." Elbren smiled, "But I daresay that we shall likely see fireworks worthy even of old Gandalf."

"I look forward to it, my Lord." The black stallion neighed and tossed his fine head, "So does Endlómë. He aches to take reparations from our enemy. He took none too kindly to our having to retreat to Edoras in the face of the orcs in the hills. It was not easy for him to turn tail, especially upon the soil of Rohan."

As Elbren mounted, others began to emerge form the stables.

Elbren placed his foot into the stirrup and then hoisted himself nimbly up and into the saddle upon Erelas' back. The mighty horse was as eager for battle and adventure as was his companions and Elbren could feel the energy surging through the horse's blood.

The Elven Lord took his gloved hand and reached down to his right side to tug at the Spear of Orome, testing its fastenings. Nodding with satisfaction, he then adjusted his sword belt and checked the quiver harness that fastened across his chest. The chain mail shirt that he wore shone in the torch light of the stables, but its shimmer was faded beside the bright mail of the Mithril Cloak that lay across the Guild Master's shoulders. Taking his helmet from the saddle pommel before him, Elbren pressed his knee gently into Erelas' side so that the horse turned to face the gathered company of Mithril Knights.

"We have 150 miles of open country to cross ere we reach the Falls of Rauros. In between lies our enemy...and he is eager to taste our blood and bring us our deaths. Lady Parador and Lord Halith have gone before us to scout the path; let us hope that we can reach the river in no more than two days. For then, we must find a way to scale the heights to Amon Lhaw and there strike down the totem that has been raised to Saruman...and we must do this before the Dark Moon. Those of you that ride with me, let us be swift and silent. For those of you that are going to Helm's Deep....stand fast, we will come to you as soon as fate allows us to complete our mission and find our way back. Some of you are going to Orthanc; be wary in your travel and make sure that Orthanc is well prepared and fortified against attack, for it shall surely come there as well," Elbren took his helmet, with the wings of the Winged Knight of the Order of the Mithril Knights, and placed it firmly upon his head, his bright eyes peering out from the silver eyeguards, "may Varda keep you safe. We ride!"

With thundering hooves under the starry sky, the crescent moon hanging overhead in vigilance, the Mithril Knights galloped down the silent streets of Edoras and through the gates to the hilled city. Once they had passed the gates, the Knights broke into three groups of riders: Some turned East with Lord Elbren and took to the plains; others turned West and then North for Helm's Deep, where the Rohirrim and Dwarven Colony of Aglarond prepared to meet the frontal assault of the Clan of the Red Hammer; the third group turned more sharply North and rode hard for Orthanc where Thalos and the garrison of Gondorian soldiers and Mithril Knights would prepare for any assault that might come to them.

The Edoras Guild House was left in eerie silence while the city, at dawn, seemed utterly devoid of any life....

*****************************************************************************

Lord Elbren and his company rode the six hours that were left before dawn with no sign of the enemy. At dawn, they debated whether or not to press onward, risking being seen, but finally they determined to rest and send scouts to aid them in determining their course. By late afternoon, all of the scouts had returned with reports of the Red Hammer marching towards Helm's Deep and with encampments in the Plains themselves. Using caution, the Knights left just after sunset and rode at an agonizingly slow pace, their senses acutely aware of all movements and sound around them.

It was just after they had made their second camp and sent out more scouts that they received an ominous sigh: Halith's horse was espied within the deep grasses beyond where the Snowbourne meets the Entwash; weakened from loss of blood, the horse was, apparently, attempting to return to Edoras despite its wounds and loss of rider. The scout returned to the camp and took Elbren and Dirk to where the wounded horse stood motionless. After close inspection, Elbren determined that the blood upon the saddle was both the black blood of orcs and the blood of Halith himself. The horse's wounds revealed a fierce fight where both Halith and his loyal mount must have had to stand their ground and fight many enemies.

"The fact that the horse has lived this long speaks favorably that he can recover," Elbren observed, removing the bloody saddle and beginning to tend to the worse of the wounds, "I can only hope that we can follow his trail and find Halith and Parador."

The Elven Lord's face was grey with worry even as he spoke the words, but soon he was speaking soothingly to the horse, who pricked his ears with interest, and after some caresses and encouragement, they all found their way back to the concealed camp of the Mithril Knights.

Scouts did attempt to follow the trail of Halith's horse and found what Elbren feared most: the place where Halith had made his stand and...from the signs...where he had fallen. There was no body, and the Knights did not speak of what might have been done with it by the Red Hammer, but left, surely as a sign of warning, was Halith's Mithril Cloak, covered in blood, and in that blood, the sign of the Red Hammer.

"Why did they not take it?" Dirk asked when it was returned to the camp and the news brought with it.

"Such is the Initiation that the Cloaks of our Order will suffer no one save their master or mistress to wear them," Elbren grimaced as he inspected the Cloak, "otherwise, rest assured, it, too, would have been taken." Elbren then surprised those around him by cursing the orcs and Dwarves with words poisoned with foulness and filth. He then spat upon the ground and said, "With Varda as my witness tonight, I will avenge his death and strip them of their very hides."

All through the day, a wariness lay upon the silent camp, and while sleep was taken as it could, Elbren tended to Halith's horse continuously, determined that the horse's fortitude be rewarded with every chance that it might have of living. Using every song, chant, and herb that he had at his disposal, Elbren was at the horse's side for most of the day.

When sunset had brought the stars again to the sky, Elbren spoke to the horse and praised him for his courage, "And now, strong and brave one, you must continue on your journey and make your way with stealth back to the stables that you know so well. We shall return as soon as we can."

To his dismay, though, as the Knights made ready to ride again, the horse would not abandon them. In fact, despite his best efforts of discouragement, Halith's horse remained with the company for the rest of the journey. Elbren finally ceased trying to dissuade the animal, and with slow progress again, the Knights crossed the Plains of Rohan.

It was just before dawn on this third leg of the journey that they saw more signs of the Red Hammer. They found themselves backtracking several times to avoid detection and Elbren even despaired that a confrontation might be unavoidable. Yet, as false dawn painted the Eastern sky, they could hear the roar of the Falls of Rauros and knew that they were near. To their relief, riding out to meet them was Parador, though she looked battle worn and her eyes revealed the danger all around them.

"I have found a place where we can camp and put the horses---" Parador began to say and then stopped when she saw Halith's horse, unbridled and unsaddled, among the company.

Elbren's eyes followed hers and he said solemnly, "Aye, Lady Parador, your companion has gone to the Halls of Mandos to await the final battle and reap the rewards that he has earned as a loyal Knight of our Order," he guided Erelas closer to her and put his hand upon her shoulder, "we will avenge him. I am much relieved to see that you did not share his fate."

"Would that I had!" Parador said with pain in his voice and she, too, swore an Oath of justice.

"Take us to your safe spot and tonight, Eru willing, we shall begin our ascent to Amon Lhaw," Elbren urged.

Parador nodded silently and turned her horse to lead them away.

The pounding of the Falls echoed the quickened pace of the Knight's hearts as they drew closer to their destination. Tempest had been silent the entire journey: silent and watchful. The death of Halith and the symbol in blood upon his cloak had affected them all, but she saw something in that action that the others did not. She saw that the enemy knew they would come, that the enemy was waiting for them. Saruman was no fool. He knew more about the ways of the West than even she knew, for Tempest was only now beginning to understand the nature of goodness that existed in the world.

Yet, for all the good she had accomplished since Mordor, in the shadows of her heart she felt that she would never atone for the evil she had done.

The darkness called her still, though as of late, its voice had died to only a whisper. Yet now, she felt the power drawing her again. This time, it was more insidious for it offered her the chance to rejoin those like her, not to hide anymore. To be fully known, as she could never be with these around her. Though she disdained the thought, the closer they came to the source of Saruman's power, the more it gnawed on her mind.

What was that they had called her? Witch of Mordor.

Yes, it was true. She would always be that to them. A witch. A lost soul.

No, she reminded herself. They considered her a friend, an ally. They had aided her in her darkest hour. Yet always she thought to betray them. Even in the face of their kindness and trust, she faltered.

"Are you well?" Elbren's voice whispered from the shadows. "You look pale."

"It's only the moonlight, but I fear I cannot rest tonight. I will take the first watch," she answered. "And, while you prepare camp, I think I will scout the surrounding area. Something in the air makes me nervous."

"Whatever you think best. I do not need to tell you to be careful, but remember, we are not staying here long. We will begin our ascent soon" he said.

She nodded and disappeared into the foilage. She noted the absolute silence of the forest. Nothing stirred, yet she could feel life all around her. It was as if the animals and plants were holding their breath in anticipation. She saw no signs or tracks anywhere, and she found that rather odd since the dwarves and orcs had certainly retreated through the forest. She frowned and examined the ground closely. Perhaps they had found another way? She ventured further and further from the camp in her search, though she for what exactly she was searching, she did not know. Finally, when her legs began to ache with fatigue, she began to retrace her steps, chiding herself for leaving the others for so long. "Elbren will be displeased and perhaps even worried," she told herself.

Then, she looked up and froze. Towering above her not 500 meters away was a black shape she could only assume was a mountain troll. However, what really made her blood run cold was the realization that it was watching her, and had been watching her for quite some time. Her sword was already drawn, but it could do little against such a monster. Tempest took a step back, but the troll, perceiving that it had been seen, came forward, the leaves from the trees brushing his forehead.

Tempest did not even have time to scream. In a few strides it was upon her, but instead of crushing her against the ground, it took her body in both hands and lifted her up until her face was equal with its own. Then, slowly, it began to squeeze her until her breath was gone. The stench and heat from its breath was unbearable, and Tempest struggled briefly in its grip. She tried to think, but her strength was slowing draining out of her. She could not speak or even gasp in pain. Her mind screamed empty words, for there was no one to help her now. As her vision melted into darkness, she thought suddenly of Dirk's face when Saruman had possessed him momentarily and she shuddered. "Witch of Mordor...." she heard someone say, and then she was no more.

When the troll was sure she was unconscious, it released her, running a thick finger along her face and chest to assure that she was still alive. Then, with a satisfied grunt, it draped her body over its shoulder and disappeared as silently as it had come.

The Knights had taken shelter under an outcropping of rock and ruins on the Western side of the Anduin river. The roar of the Falls of Rauros was loud and near and with a heavy watch set for the day, the Knights prepared for their ascent of Amon Lhaw.

"Even with the ropes, this is going to be treacherous," Dirk said with his raspy voice as the ropes were laid out on the ground in preparation for dispersal.

"Indeed," Elbren agreed, "but, we have little choice. Unless we grow wings between now and nightfall."

His grin was not matched by anyone there even as Athelos commented, "You are still determined to make the ascent in the dark?"

"Again, we have little choice. In daylight, we would be easy targets for arrows and spears," Elbren replied, coiling one of the ropes and handing it to Dirk. "Those that have no skill with climbing shall remain here and guard the horses. Those that will come with me must resign themselves to a long climb."

Parador joined them then with a scouting report, "There is a fair sized party of orcs and Dwarves on this side of the river. We know not how they crossed the Anduin so quickly and without us seeing them. They are not far."

"How many?" Elbren asked, visibly concerned, "and we did not see them cross?"

"Nay," Parador replied, "and I am told fifteen or so gather near the shore."

"Then we must dispatch them," Elbren grabbed his bow and began to string it, "we must do it quickly. Alert the guards; Dirk, Parador, Athelos'come with me."

************************************************

Dirk, Athelos, Parador, and Elbren knelt behind a slope just above the river and observed the enemy. The orcs and Dwarves appeared to be arguing about something, but the language was that of Mordor, or something akin to it, and without Tempest, the Knights did not understand what was taking place. Behind the enemy, the river flowed rapidly, churning and foaming from the torrent of the Falls. It was late afternoon and already the shadows were growing long.

The Knights did not speak, but instead moved as silently as possible as they strung their bows and notched arrows. Three volleys of accurate shooting would take down the majority of the enemy party, and then, with any measure of fortune, any that remained could be taken swiftly with their blades.

Elbren notched an arrow, drew the string of his bow back until his hand was even with his cheek, held his breath, took aim, and then loosed the arrow. Immediately, he drew another arrow and notched it, even as the first struck home in the neck of an orc. His companions did likewise and within moments, swiftly and with precision, there were only four Dwarves remaining on the shore, though their axes were drawn, and they were now advancing upon the slope.

Swords drawn, the Knights met the assault, having the clear advantage as they held their higher ground. The Dwarves were not eager to fight, it seemed. After one of them had fallen dead, the other three, wounded, disengaged themselves and began to retreat, running for their lives as fast as their legs would carry them.

Parador and Dirk dispatched two of them before they reached the shore, but the last Dwarf managed to avoid Elbren's sword and continued his mad run. Sprinting in pursuit, the Knights could see the Dwarf still running northward along the shore's edge, towards the Falls.

"Where is he going?" Parador asked as they continued their pursuit.

"Perhaps he has brethen awaiting him," Dirk replied.

This caused the Knights to slow their pace as they waited to see what, indeed, drew the Dwarf to his present course. They were all no less than amazed when the Dwarf's path ascended and then, suddenly, turning right he disappeared from view as if he had walked into the tumbling Falls.

"Carefully," Elbren urged as the Knights followed.

The path began to rise as the river dropped sharply to their right, and then the path took a turn, as if it meant to go directly into the Falls, which were now so close that the Knights were within the mist from its plunge from the lake above. Here the Knights stoppedand surveyed the scene.

"Behind the Falls?" Parador asked.

"Let us see," Elbren nodded.

The Knights advanced towards the wall of powerful water and followed the path until they were halfway across the river. To their right, the Falls of Rauros roared near enough to touch and before them, loomed a darkness that could only be the rock of Tol Brandir. They were careful, for the hidden path was treacherous in its incline and slick with moss, water and ice. Soon, they were all nearly drenched from the mist and splashes of water, but, still they went on. As they approached Tol Brandir, they were again amazed to see what appeared to be an entrance carved into the mighty rock.

"What is this?" Dirk asked, having to raise his voice to be heard above the falls.

Athelos was right behind him, "This is not a natural cave," she pointed to some faint carvings but they had no torch and the light was dim, "those do not look to be Dwarven runes."

"No," Elbren said, his Elven sight more keen than that of his companions, "it is Elvish."

"What does it say?"

"I cannot read it all, but here it says 'the king''and then here'.'ascent to the summit''." Elbren could not read anymore in the waning light, "my guess is that this is Numenorean in its making."

"And where does it lead?" Parador asked, voicing the question in all of their minds.

"Let us find out," Elbren said and nodded to Dirk to continue.

The tunnel through Tol Brandir was pitch black; the Knights proceeded with caution, sheathing their swords and using their hands to reach out and touch the moist walls. It did not take long before they emerged behind the Falls again and back into the sun's rays that bent and crooked through the rumbling waters.

The path continued behind the Falls until yet another carved entrance loomed before them. Elbren tried to read the runes that were present there, but could only make out, "'..king shall ascend'..summit of Kings."

"Athelos, return to the others and tell them what we have found. Bring the supplies and the Spear and we will go as high as we can through this passage," Elbren instructed.

"And what if it does not lead to Amon Lhaw," Athelos asked.

"We still have several hours before nightfall, if the path proves too treacherous or untrue to our cause, then we shall abandon it," Elbren replied, "yet, I cannot help but remember the messages of Ulmo. My heart says that this will lead us to Amon Lhaw."

Her head was throbbing and every nerve screamed out in jolting pain, and above all else, the roar of the Falls filled her ears. The air was moist around her, and when Tempest opened her eyes, there was only darkness. The troll was grunting and lumbering forward, unaware that she was stirring. She felt for her sword, but it was gone, having fallen when she was first attacked. Her chest rose painfully with every breath, and she wondered idly whether her ribs were broken.

But the thing that bothered her most was the fact that she was still alive.

There was no reason for the troll to let her live, unless he had other, darker plans for her. So, it would be torture. She gritted her teeth and found the small bag of herbs that Elbren had given her before they left Edoras. She hoped they would help with the pain. As she crushed a few leaves against her teeth, she suddenly wondered where she was. They were no longer in the forest, but there were stone walls on either side and the thundering of the Falls sounded muffled, as if they were inside them. She raised herself and looked around. There was a faint light coming from somewhere.

The troll felt her movement and swung her around in front of him, grumbling in the Black Speech and giving her a broad, unnerving grin. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded in the black speech.

"You will see."

"Why have you not killed me?" she asked.

"More fun to watch you squirm. Besides, he wants you."

"Who?"

"The voice," he said gruffly, but then they came upon a group of dwarves and orcs who looked like they were about to draw weapons on each other. In between them there lay a bloodied body, and on closer inspection, Tempest saw it was a dwarf.

"You are a filthy liar, as are all your kind. I can even see teeth marks plainly on his body!" one dwarf huffed, his face bright red.

"Not us! We not disobey! We not kill the dwarf!" the orcs hissed.

"Well then, who, pray tell, did kill him?" the dwarf demanded.

"Others! Yes! Others in the forest! The ones with the cloaks that burn!" the orcs chimed in together, and then seeing the troll approaching, they gathered behind him for protection and pointed at Tempest, who he was still carrying. "See! Others like her!"

The dwarves looked surprised at the sudden presence of a human in their midst, but they did not recognize her and did not realize that she understood all their speech. "Why did you bring her here?" the dwarf said, stamping his foot, displeased to find that the orcs were not lying.

"The voice commanded, and there are more like her coming," the troll said awkwardly, and tossed Tempest into the middle of them. She stood up despite the pain, aware of the dangerous position she was in.

"How many more of there are you? And why do you come here?" the dwarve asked her in the common tongue.

"Only I alone ventured into the forest. And I came for an adventure," she answered dryly in the Black Speech. There was momentary confusion at her words until one of the dwarves pulled the cloak off her back and examined it.

"She's a Mithril Knight!" he exclaimed and then his eyes narrowed as he looked at her face more closely. "This is the traitor, Tempest Darkfire, who killed Falin Broadbeam in the city of the horse people!"

Shouting erupted from both parties and it was all the troll could do to prevent Tempest from being torn to pieces. For once in her life, she was actually grateful for the height and strength of trolls as the creature plowed through the sea of orcs and dwarves and continued down the passageway towards what or whom, Tempest did not know.

It seemed to to take hours before Athelos returned to Elbren, Dirk, and Parador. She had the other Mithril Knights with her, save Ancanar and Glorel, who had been left to guard the horses.

"I have very disturbing news," Athelos announced as she handed a sword to Elbren, her face unreadable in the dimming light of the passage behind the Falls.

Elbren instantly recognised the sword as Tempest's. His gaze went sharply back to Athelos, "Dead?" he whispered, fearing the response.

Athelos shrugged, "We don't know. Glorel found the sword on his patrol and signs of a brief struggle, but no blood. Whatever attacked her was very large...large indeed. Glorel thinks that it was a troll."

Murmurs ran through the gathering of Knights at that even as Elbren took the sword and clasped it to his belt. He nodded to a Knight from Lothlorien who was called Gindel, "Go back and follow the signs. If possible, go to her aid; if she is dead, then..." Elbren's voice cracked, but then he went on, "if she is dead, then try to retrieve what you can for burial."

Gindel saluted in silence and then disappeared back in the passage. Elbren set his jaw grimly, "We move....let's go."

Mirdain gave a silent prayer to Eru that the company would make it safely through the climb, and also that Tempest would be found alive. The going was slow, and cautious. Idril used her veil, that it might offer them some measure of stealth. Mirdian was in the middle of the line, just ahead of Idril in order to shield her from any oncoming threat. His shield was tied above his head to deflect anything that fall or be thrown down at them from the surrounding heights. Dirk seemed like the most agile climber, and he was at the head of the line, with Elbren close behind, followed by Athelos. Parador was just behind Idril. Together, she and Mirdain provided the maximum protection for the veil. Good thing; Mirdain was sure he saw Orc eyes peering from behind rocks and over ledges at the very spot where they were.

At one point, there was a rustling of leaves to Mirdain side. He turned his head, taking his eyes off the road. This cause him to stumble on a small rock, thus creating enough noise to alert orc scouts. They loosed a small barage of darts. The party froze at this moment. Several twanged of the path immediately surrounding Mirdain, and one grazed his back. Fortunately, no one was hit.

The barrage halted, and Mirdain stole a look around. A dwarf, probably a chieftain of some sort, was yelling and waving his arms in the air. He spoke to the orcs in Westron.

"Stupid orcs, you're just wasting arrows!"

"Hey! Who's the fool here? I'm guessin you haven't heard about the magic ways of them Mithril Knights. I'm tellin ya, they're around here somewhere!"

"Ye'd best shut yer mouth, or you'll lose it on the tip of this axe! I say, stop shooting! We must listen carefully for them!"

There was more grumbling, but no confrontation as Mirdain secretly hoped. With even more caution, the Knights continued their ascent. A few minutes later, a scream was heard in the forest. Not a dying scream, but a cry of pain nonetheless. Mirdain looked at Elbren, but did not dare ask openly if he thought the scream meant Gilren was lost. Elbren did not signal an answer, but looked solemn. Minutes later, they rounded a corner and came the spot where Elbren and company had gone under the falls before.

Elbren fell back to him and whispered, "It is not much further until we reach the tunnel. Be on your greatest guard." Mirdain nodded. He then relayed the message to Idril, who also had not gone with Elbren before.

Dirk gave over complete control to Endlómë during the first night's ride. The youthful Knight held the reins mostly out of habit, for the great steed set his own pace and chose his own way across the grass of his homeland. Dirk sat upright in his saddle; and though he was fully aware of his surroundings - the guildmaster ahead leading the charge and the other Mithril Knights riding behind - he remained introspective.

Just before dawn broke over the East Wall of Rohan and the vale of the Great River, Dirk's meditation had come to its conclusion. The blood that flowed in his veins was noble and strong, despite the corruption of his father and his father's kin by the Dark Lord. Dirk had made his choice over a year before what path he would take; and after a night of contemplation re-affirmed that choice. He would not only avenge his mother, but now his father also. In his journey during the Mithril Knight initiation ceremony, he had seen his true father before he was enthralled by Sauron. He would not only prove himself to be worthy of the people of the light of Eru, but he would clear his family name. Finally, he resolved that likely his entire life would be plagued with minions of Morgoth attempting to bribe, decieve, cajole, or outright force him into the mistakes of his father, he would take them on one by one and prevail. Saruman was apparently behind the current plot to subvert his will and steal his soul. But neither flattery, nor promise of unending power or everlasting life, nor threat of damnation into the abyss would avail Saruman of Dirk of Esgaroth, son of Angmar and Westernesse.

In the light of the early morning, Dirk preferred not to engage in the debate as to whether or not to press on. However, (probably due to youthful rashness) he was eager to keep moving and even though he did not voice his opinion, it was clear nonetheless because Dirk did not dismount. In the end, it was decided that they would stop and rest while the sun was up, but that scouts would be sent in different directions. Since Dirk was apparently not ready for rest, he was appointed to reconnoiter the lands back to the west and north.

Dirk returned last of all the scouts to report that a force of several thousand Dwarves, marching in orderly military ranks and singing ominous songs of battle and revenge, had apparently crossed the Entwash and now marched due west for Helm's Deep. How the large army had made the crossing, he could not say, but speculated that they must have employed some sort of portable bridge, for among the legions were many engines of war, drawn by teams of oxen. Further, Dirk reported that behind and among the grim Dwarves were at least a thousand orcs of all varieties, with the exception of Uruk-hai.

"I found it odd that every manner of foul orc-kind slunk among the dwarves, including Warg-riders, yet no Uruks were to be seen. So on a hunch, I rode hard ahead of the army and found what I dreaded: 500 or so Uruks, burning and pillaging in advance of the army. Luckily, the village I saw them ransacking had already been deserted for Helm's Deep. I snuck in close enough to get off a single shot. I slew their cheiftain with a bolt through the throat, but alas lost the arrow forever as he fell into a stack of burning straw." He paused, the listeners were puzzled at the concern Dirk showed for a single arrow. "The death of their leader enraged them, and they pursued me for a mile or so. But even Uruk-hai cannot match the speed or stamina of Endlómë. I rode hard back to you and even at full speed, we only arrived after four hours. My Lord, they are advancing quickly on the Rohirrim."

Elbren thanked Dirk for his report and his bravery. Then the young man took what food and rest he could before the setting sun signalled their departure. This time they moved much more slowly and the anxious Dirk found it hard to let wisdom win over foolhardy bravery. When they were near to the Entwash, it was almost sundown and a suitable place to camp was found.

Camp was set and a new set of scouts were scattered in the four directions of the compass. Soon, however, their rest and council was interrupted.

Tempest, who was sent to scout the area ahead on their path to Rauros and beyond, was seen returning earlier than expected by the sharp elven eyes of Elren. Her face was grave and sullen and she beckoned that they mount and follow her. Elbren chose to go himself and ordered that Dirk would follow, as well. Soon they approached the junction of the Snowbourne and the Entwash and there stood motionless the horse of the Mithril Knight Halith, bloodied and exhausted. Elbren inspected the horse, determining that it would probably live after some healing care, and they led it back to their hidden camp.

Tempest went out again to follow the horse's trail and Elbren set to healing the animal's wounds.

Later, the scouts returned with Halith's defiled Mithril cloak and reports of the signs they had seen. When Dirk asked why they did not steal the valuable garment, he learned more of the nature of their sacred cloaks and how they would not suffer to be in the possession of anyone but their owners.

****************************************

Dirk found himself on the edge of rage and despair, for although he did not know the Knight, Halith, he surely did not deserve this end. Though he did not swear his oath aloud, as Elbren did, Dirk also vowed that retribution will be paid before the end.

He knelt facing away from the group and drew his black sword. Quielty, so that none would hear him, he whispered his vow, "Carch Urulóki," he named his blade in the ancient High-Elvish, "Kasak Kulkodar", he also uttered its name in the Black Speech, for the anguish and malice it bore exemplified Dirk's emotions, "You will be satiated on the blood these fell Dwarves and their foul orc-thralls."

He inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled excrutiatingly slowly; then he sheathed the weapon, rose and returned to the others who were ready to depart. Elbren was speaking to Halith's horse, attempting to persuade the beast to leave them, however, it refused and galloped alongside the other horses as they departed.

Dirk's calm exterior belied that he was bristling beneath the surface. The power of the Witch-king's sword, the Dark-elf's armor and his own resolve, combined with profound vows of vengeance had Dirk seething with anger. He thought that he was concealing his fury well until he turned and saw that Tempest was studying him. Had she heard his use of the dark language? Or perhaps her years within the mountained walls of Mordor had attuned her to the kind of storm that was welling up within him. Either way, her eyes told Dirk that she saw his rage.

She merely nodded subtley and spurred her horse to the fore of the group with Elbren. If she was able to read Dirk's expression, he was certainly confused by hers. Something beyond the obvious was troubling the Mordorian, that was plain to see. But what?

**********************************************

The roaring of the falls alerted Dirk that they were near to their destination. His senses on high alert, he nearly drew steel when Parador emerged from hiding. He was releived to see her because he had feared that his mentor had suffered the same fate as her companion. She was tired, battered, and forlorn at the news of Halith, but she was well. They made their way to a hidden dell in which they were able to dismount and hide the horses, as well as plan the next phase of their mission.

********************************************

"Even with the ropes, this is going to be treacherous," Dirk said with his raspy voice as the ropes were laid out on the ground in preparation for dispersal. Elbren and Athelos were exchanging words regarding the decision to attempt a climb of the Emyn Muil.

Dirk kept further opinions to himself after the guildmaster's reply to Athelos. He was a good climber, phenomenal in fact, elven good, or so he had been told by his tutors in Thranduil's halls when he escaped from them from time to time to avoid the study of woodlore. He knew that he would have no problem with the climb, despite the wet rock. But this climb was one that only the very best could manage, even in daylight without malicious pursuit.

His reverie was for naught at that moment though, for before the first hand was put to rock to begin the ascent, Parador arrived with news of a group of enemy Dwarves that had somehow managed to cross undetected to their side of the river and were very close to discovering the Mithril Knights.

They crept to within a few dozen yards and halted on a hill above the enemy. The Dwarves were arguing in a strange language that seemed to be a combination of Khâzad and Black Speech. Dirk only caught a few words, "deserter" and "voice" being the most distinct.

Elbren strung his bow and without a word, and the others did likewise. The twang of the guildmaster's bow served as the signal to fire. Dirk's first shot found its mark in the forehead of a bare-headed Dwarf, who toppled into the River and floated away in the tumultuous rapids.

"Damn! That's another lost arrow! Not good!"

Dirk's second and third shots felled two more dwarves and then the charge was on. Dirk exploded. In his rage, he did not see their fear and lack of aggression. They did not wish to fight. Dirk reached the first and separated head from shoulder with a loud ringing sound as Neleg Amlug grated and sparked against the dwarf's mail. The remaining three attempted to flee. Parador gutted one to Dirk's left and the Dragon's Tooth found purchase in the belly of another. The final retreater miraculously managed to elude Elbren's blade and scamper insanely up the slope towards an apparent dead-end.

"Where is he going?" Parador asked as they continued their pursuit.

"Perhaps he has brethen awaiting him," Dirk replied.

They folowed the frightened dwarf at a distance, in case Dirk's guess turned out to be true, until much to the perplexity of the Mithril Knights, the dwarf disappeared.

"Behind the Falls?" Parador asked.

"Let us see," Elbren nodded.

Indeed there was a passage behind the falling torrent. Dirk remarked to himself of the ability that his newly-acquired cloak had to repel the mist. The path approached Tol Brandir and turned right into the rock. As they approached and Dirk entered the cavern, they noticed the writing on the walls. Dirk struggled to remember his education in ancient script, but both the feeble remembrance of his lessons and the erosion of years prevented him from reading the markings. Elbren proclaimed them elvish and determined that they were probably of Numenorean origin. Added to Dirk's array of emotions was excitement at the possible discovery of some hidden wonder built by his ancient kin.

Dirk continued on point as they found that this first tunnel reurned to an open path beneath the falls. They followed the slippery path until they reached another enscribed cavern. This time Elbren could make out a few words and determined that it must lead up and out. He ordered Athelos to return and fetch the others, as well as the Spear. From his actions and from his conversation with Athelos, the guildmaster clearly believed that this passage would take them to Amon Lhaw.

They waited for an eternity in the dampened cave-entrance with the incessant pounding of the falls pummelling their ears until finally Athelos returned. Her expression was pained and her words halting as she handed a sword to Elbren. Dirk did not recognize the blade, but he guessed by her absence that it must have belonged to Tempest.

Dirk's mood was further darkened by the ensuing discussion. Tempest might have been his best hope for full redemption. She, among all the others, might have understood his battle against his inner demons. If indeed she were now dead, too, then his hope was dashed for a friend to guide him along his path away from darkness and into the light of the Eldar.

As Elbren once again ordered them to advance and Dirk once again took point in the black subterranean passage, he silently renewed his vow to wreck havoc upon those responsible.

The steady thump of the troll's bare feet against the stone became almost hypnotic to Tempest in her weariness, and she found her mind wandering through ancient passageways of memory. Her acute senses, however, were only slightly dulled and she perceived by and by that the passageway was not descending, but rather slowly ascending. She did not understand the significance of this fact until much later. She also noticed that there were now many passageways converging on the path the troll took, and she wondered where they led. It was not long before the troll forsook the main path and ventured down one of the narrow passageways that eventually emptied into a large, sparsely decorated room that smelled of blood and death. Here, the troll set her down before a gruff looking dwarf who sat upon a crude stone seat and set his imperious gaze upon her.

'Fair lady Tempest, I thought you might be joining us,' he said, and there was a cough from the shadows as another dwarf stepped into the light, a dwarf with a swollen noise whose glittering eyes looked with hatred on her, as if mentally relishing the thought of her eminent torture. 'I believe you have already met,' the dwarf said, gesturing towards the dwarf with the broken nose.

'Yes, and the pleasure was all mine,' she answered sourly, then turning her dark eyes to the dwarf who sat upon the throne, she added, 'But I have yet to make your acquaintance.'

The dwarf smiled, revealing his jagged yellow teeth. 'I was there with Saruman when you came to inspect the troops and you were much the same then as you are now.'

'Ah, then it is a shame you did not introduce yourself.'

'Few dared to approach you then, for though they said your heart was of ice, your temper was hot enough to boil a man alive,' he said slowly and deliberately.

'Did you bring me here to reminisce about the past? For if that is so, we could have arranged this meeting in a much pleasanter way,' she said.

The dwarf's smile was gone now and he rose from his seat unhurriedly and crossed the room. 'Many of my brethren suffered because of you, their screams lost in the dungeons of Barad-Dur, yet ever haunting me. They say you enjoyed breaking them almost as much as you relished the torture of men of Rohan.'

'So, this is revenge?' she asked quietly.

'It is not up to me. The choice is yours,' he replied.

'What do you mean?'

'You served the darkness once; it is time to do so again. The service you rendered under Sauron was admirable and you....,' he continued, but she suddenly laughed bitterly, startling him.

'You cannot be asking me to join with you?' she laughed in disbelief.

The dwarf's face grew red and the tip of his nose grew white in anger. 'The request is not from me. But if you were willing, He thinks you would better serve him alive than dead. You could change alliances easily enough'.'

'Aye, I could, but if I did, you would be foolish to trust me. Traitors often betray again, not satisfied until they are utterly wretched,' she retorted.

'But you are utterly wretched and the blood that stains your hands can never be removed. What is one more sin to the thousands you have already committed?' he hissed.

She was silent for a moment as she watched the shadows flickering off the walls. 'And my alternative?' she asked.

The dwarf said nothing, but he gestured toward the eastern corner of the room in which stood a stand with a large bowl. Tempest stiffened, for in the dim torchlight she saw the decapitated head of Halith, the agony of his torment still evident on his contorted features.

'You think I fear this, this torture and death?' she said coldly. 'Spite alone would keep me from joining you and'.'

'He said you might need some 'persuading,'' the dwarf said with evident glee at the prospect.

'I find it strange that Saruman would even consider me a worthy ally. Unless there is something he wants from me that he cannot get for himself. Perhaps something, some secret from Mordor?' she stalled, trying to ascertain the reason for her capture. Saruman could not really think she would join him, could he?

The dwarf with the broken nose licked his lips. 'He wants only your allegiance, but since you refuse, we have been ordered to help you find the correct path again.'

'It is a game, a twisted game he seeks to play with me.' she faltered.

'It is no game. He has already foreseen your compliance with us, so why put yourself through this unpleasantness?' the other dwarf said, running his hand over a particularly nasty looking instrument.

Tempest cursed softly. 'You cannot fool me with tricks,' she said.

'There is no trick. He has seen your heart, your inmost black desires. There can be but one answer.'

'I will not.'

The dwarves exchanged glances. 'As you wish'.'

Tempest dead. Elbren forcefully pushed the thoughts and images that accompanied those words from his mind. Now was not the time to allow one's self to think about anything save the task at hand.

Nothing else.

And yet, the added weight and unfamiliar touch of Tempest's sword hanging from his belt was an unwelcome reminder of her possible fate.

Nothing else.

Ahead, Dirk and Mirdain led the group, while Parador and Idril took the rear guard positions. The Knights moved as silently as they could, but the stones seemed to echo every step of their boots a hundred fold. Moving swiftly, they had their weapons drawn in readiness. Their senses were magnified to an awareness that only comes to those who know that the fate of many will be determined by their actions.

The stone hall in which they found themselves was wide enough for three men to walk abreast and probably eight or nine feet high. It had quickly become a winding staircase carved out of the living rock of the Falls, leading ever upward and well lit with torches. Every so often, an opening would appear to their right, but thus far, each one of these had only led to a small chamber that had not been used in what could very well have been Ages.

Until they reached the fourth such chamber. They found a single Dwarf standing just inside, well armed, but with a precision that was almost chilling, Mirdain took his dagger and dispatched him in silence.

Obviously, the hidden staircase was already known to the Red Hammer, even if they hadn't been the ones to carve it. Elbren was convinced that it was Numenorean and probably a very clever twin to the North Stair which led to Amon Hen. If he were right, then their path had been chosen well and they would find themselves upon Amon Lhaw. Once there, they would no doubt find a guard of Red Hammer around the mysterious power, but that could not deter them.

It was very simple: they could not fail. Whatever sat atop Amon Lhaw, be it Arkenstone, unknown jewel, or some other dark result of one of Saruman's spells, the Mithril Knights had to use the Spear of Orome to strike it. Strike it until it had no more power.

What will happen when we stike it? Elbren wondered, his eyes keenly upon the path ahead.

Mirdain suddenly stopped and held up his hand in a signal for them all to halt. Voices ahead. Dirk held up his hand as his fingers began signalling: 1, 2, 3.....4........then a closed fist to signal that they were probably outnumbered. A second closed fist would have signalled that it was more than 2-1, but it did not come.

Though the voices did. Chain mail rattled in movement, then a loud belch, and two Dwarves appeared upon the stairs above them. Snarling a war cry, it was startling how quickly the Dwarves had their axes drawn and leapt upon the Knights. Above them, another Dwarf sounded the alarm and the fight ensued.

The stairway was wide, but it still made for very close quarters, especially for sword fighting. More than once Elbren found himself pinned not only up against a wall, but also dangerously close to multiple blades hacking and slicing away. Soon, the stones were slippery with blood and several Dwarf bodies lay motionless. The Red Hammer retreated back up the stairs; but, Elbren held the Knights where they stood, "They're just going to join whatever force is gathering above us. They know that we aren't going back down. Let's regroup; who's hurt?"

There were some scratches and cuts, but the Knights had suffered no serious injuries. Above them, they could hear the cries of battle preparation. Elbren nodded to Dirk and Mirdain, "Lead on."

They had ascended a great distance with no further attack. This unsettled Elbren a great deal; the Red Hammer must have great confidence in the guard at Amon Lhaw--either due to numbers, skill, or the power itself. Or, perhaps all three.

Suddenly they found themselves under the open sky. It was dusk, none of Varda's stars were yet kindled in the sky, although the sun had been set for some time. The Knights found themselves standing within an eerie blue glow and as they turned to the East, they saw the source of it: The Seat of Amon Lhaw had upon it a rather large, oval stone of many colours that pulsed with a massive, fiery blue flame. It was odd, though, for as one stared at the flame, it seemed to waver at times, as if it might not be there at all....

"It was good of you to come and bring the Spear with you," said a very deep and rich voice.

From across the clearing which held Amon Lhaw in its center, a Dwarf in rich and flashing mail emerged, his beard neatly braided, and in his hand, a mighty hammer that was afire with runes of battle. No sooner had he finished speaking than Dwarves, similarly attired and great in number, began to emerge from the shadows.

Elbren took a step forward and addressed the Dwarven Lord, "You have shown yourself to be an enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth and you have slain one of my Order. The penalty for that is death."

"I see," the Dwarven Lord nodded to one of his captains, "and you, Elf, are trespassing upon lands held by the Clan of the Red Hammer. The penalty for that, too, is death."

"Come, enough words!" Elbren began to advance.

It was then that lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, so close to Amon Lhaw that the smell of fire filled all of their senses.

"Elbren!" Athelos called after him in Elvish, "the Spear!"

Elbren nodded; Athelos was right. They were greatly outnumbered. Someone had to take the Spear and strike the stone while the others held their ground.

"Side to side," Elbren said, "and guard the stair that leads up to the Seat."

The Knights moved into a defensive half circle that curved out from the bottom of the Seat of Hearing. Behind them, a dozen or so steps led up to the Seat, where the pulsing stone rested.

"Who's going?" Idril asked as the Dwarves began to advance.

"I will," Elbren replied, sheathing his sword, "give me the Spear."

Spear in hand, the Elven Lord turned to ascend the stairs, but when he reached the top and turned to face Amon Lhaw, he realised why the stone appeared to waver when one stared directly at it. There was something guarding the Seat; something unseen. Its power was of such might that it almost seemed to burn the air around the Seat with an invisible flame. Elbren was about to touch the tip of the Spear to the unseen power, but he hesitated.

The clash of weapons below sounded very far away as Elbren gripped the Spear tightly. If the Spear had the power to destroy the Seat, then perhaps it had the power to also destroy its Guardian. Elbren held the Spear in both hands, just above waist high, and prepared to strike.

"No!" behind him, Athelos grabbed his right arm and held it hard, "it will destroy you if you do that! Take the Phial and banish the Guardian first!"

Elbren nodded; he knew that Athelos possessed great power and foresight that had come from long Ages of service to the Valar themselves. He handed her the Spear and reached to his belt, where hung a gilded and oval shaped box. He opened it with a soft word and then drew forth a shining Phial of dancing and fiery light.

"Kuluvi ya karnevalinar, v'ematte singi; naur an edraith ammen!"

The Seat shook with such violence that a crack appeared from the feet of Amon Lhaw and ran freely before it stopped suddenly near Elbren's boots. Returning the Phial to its box, Elbren turned and took the Spear from Athelos. Behind her, he could see the Mithril Knights beginning to give ground and moving up towards them.

"Be quick!" Athelos urged and ran to rejoin the others in their battle.

Elbren again raised the Spear to strike, and as he did so, he heard the unmistakable cry of a Great Eagle. Looking up, he could see the outline of magnificent wings and, as the wings dipped slightly, the silhouette of a hooded figure riding upon the back of the Eagle.

"Radagast," Elbren said softly, for the Eagle then swooped low so that there was no doubt.

"Eru guide my hand," Elbren whispered, preparing to use the Spear, but this time, it was not the Eagle that stayed him.

Below, on the grass beneath the Seat of Hearing, away from the battling Dwarves and Mithril Knights, several figures had emerged. One was a massive cave troll and around him were seven or eight short and swatty orcs. But it wasn't the orcs or the troll that had made Elbren hesitate; it was the figure in front of them. She was not bound and she looked to be in very good health. Very good health indeed. In fact, she looked....stern and prideful. And in control.

Elbren swallowed hard. It was Tempest.

In the end, there had been little struggle before Tempest relented. The dwarves had only but begun to draw blood with their sharp instruments when she had bowed her head and given in. It was not because of the pain, for she had learned to detatch herself from it. Nor was it because she feared to die as Halith did, alone and in misery. No, it was a struggle she had fought all her life that was lost in one brief moment.

Never let them see you cry

She was tired.

She was weak.

And deep inside, she believed that Saruman would win in the end.

The problem was, he had not offered her anything. Not power. Not infamy. Not even a promise of wealth. He knew her well enough to know those things meant little to her. She did not understand herself. She did not know how to feel or how to resist. She was confused and very alone, for she saw that she was not like the other Mithril Knights, nor was she like the orcs and trolls. She belonged to neither and yet was part of both worlds.

In her confusion, it was easy to influence her decisions, easy to cause her to stumble on the shadowy path. Saruman's design was yet to be seen, but there was a part for her to play in all the madness....

"Enough," she had said.

The dwarves had looked disappointed, their blood lust already stirred as they had begun her torture.

"I will do His bidding," she said, though the words ran through her mind Give them no tears.

______________________________________________________________________

Tempest halted a few paces from where Elbren stood, hesitating. She saw relief in his face, but relief mixed with trepidation as his eyes searched her face and those of her companions. She held out her hand to him.

"Give me the spear, Elbren," she said in a quiet, unassuming voice.

Something in her tone made him draw back and clutch the spear closely to himself. "Tempest?"

"Give me the spear and I will spare your life and the lives of your men."

All fighting ceased while an eerie silence settled upon Amon Lhaw like a mantle soaked with blood.

Elbren stared at Tempest in disbelief, unable to speak or move. The Mithril Knights kept their weapons drawn upon the Dwarves, but, at least for that moment, no one seemed sure as to what move to make next.

Not the Dwarves. Not the Knights.

"Tempest?" Elbren asked again, sounding almost foolish.

She nodded sternly at the Spear.

"No," the word was not a denial of the Spear, but a denial that she was betraying them. "We are always in the path of the storm, Tempest, but we stand together."

"Give me the Spear," she repeated.

"No," Elbren said, gripping the Spear more tightly. And then, again, he said, "no", as if in defeat.

But then many things happened at once. The Great Eagle swooped down again as another bolt of lightning singed the top of Amon Lhaw, actually leaving a burn mark upon the grass and throwing Dwarf and orc violently out of its path. The Mithril Knights charged with a battle cry that shook the stones of the Seat.

And Elbren raised the Spear high above him and with a swift motion and prayer, he drove the leaf shaped blade into the heart of the stone.

The cries of a thousand voices filled the night air and the stars above seemed to fade and then reappear with even more strength. The Sickle glowed with a brilliance never before seen; it now possessed a light strong enough to cast shadow upon the scene at Amon Lhaw.

Elbren was on his knees before the Seat of Hearing, dazed beyond awareness. The Spear still rested in his hands, but his mail gloves were broken and torn while the flesh beneath was bloody and burned. The Spear's head was also burned and the shaft was broken about three feet below the blade. On the Seat, the blue glow was no more. The stone had splintered into four pieces which now lay strewn across the Seat itself.

Elbren could hear nothing. The world, for him, had grown deadly silent. As he slowly turned his head towards Tempest, who still stood below him on the ground, their eyes locked.

There was one voice, however, that was not silenced by the destruction of the stone, and it was the voice within Tempest's head, the voice of Saruman the once-wise. He had felt his plans slipping through his fingers and knew that his time was running out. His voice screamed despair and ripped through Tempest's mind like a double-edged sword. Yet, not all was entirely lost, for the stone that Saruman had given to Wormtongue still remained, and with it, Saruman would be able to rise again.

Tempest perceived all this clearly, even as her eyes traveled to the eagle who flew above. Had Radagast retrieved the stone? Was all lost?

She turned to the troll and orcs who had followed her and pointed to the bird that circled far overhead. 'Bring down the eagle! And then assist the dwarves in driving the Knights back!' She caught hold of another orc and swung him around to face her. 'Go and gather whatever is left of the stone and if you can, bring the spear as well.' She spoke only in the Black Speech in case the other Knights could hear her. There was only one among them who might understand her words and she searched the approaching faces for Dirk. She could feel him there somewhere, striving valiantly for the cause she had abandoned.

Her eyes then locked with Elbren and she was unable to look away. She read his face well, the shock, the hope, the disbelief. Traitor, his eyes seemed to cry. She had broken her oath to him, to all of them.

'What will they do with you now, when they catch you? To break the Oath of the Mithril Knights, that is an unforgivable offense''..' the voice whispered.

For a moment, a flash of fear passed over her face and she took a step backwards. There was confusion all around as dwarves, orcs, men, and elves fought upon the heights. It was all so familiar, this unending cycle of hate.

'Go!' the voice commanded.

She stumbled as she took another step back, watching as orcish arrows blackened the sky. There was a piercing cry, and Tempest assumed that the eagle had been hit, but she did not stay to watch. Instead she forced herself to turn away, her composure completely shaken and replaced with a numbing dread. She did the only thing she knew to do.

She ran.

The silence that enveloped him was deafening. He could see the battle rejoined, the swords, axes, and spears clashing and being driven into flesh, but he could hear nothing. He was startled when he felt himself dragged to his feet. Turning unsteadily, he saw Dirk's sweaty and blooded face, but no sound issued forth from the young Knight's lips.

The Knights were all upon the great stone block that held the Seat of Hearing. From the sides, arrows and bolts were coming in waves, though many were deflected by the Mithril Cloaks and chain mail worn by the Knights. Upon the stairs that led up to the Seat from the grass below, Dwarves and Orcs were screaming and brandishing their weapons.

Several of the orcs burst through and began assailing Dirk and Elbren, who stood nearest the Seat and the shards of the stone. Elbren took the broken Spear and began defending himself, sending one orc toppling to the side and taking another's head that landed grotesquely upon the arm of Amon Lhaw.

One orc lunged at Elbren's feet, knocking the Elf into Dirk's back, and then hastily grabbed two of the shards. The look upon the orc's face was of pain and torment; with a scream that was apparent to Elbren only by its contorted face, the orc dropped the shards and held his hands before him in a rage.

Elbren kicked the orc's mouth, sending teeth flying, and then brought the Spear down upon him, piercing him cleanly through to the bloody stone beneath.

"Elbren!" shouted Dirk. His voice utterly inaudible in the cacophony of battle.

***************

Only moments before, the newest Mithril Knight had been exacting his vengeance upon the myriad dwarves, orcs and trolls upon the pinnacle of Amon Lhaw. His white-hot rage all but blinded him to the near-hopeless odds of their battle. For every enemy slain, two more appeared. But for every enemy that appeared, Dirk held hatred aplenty. There was no fear, no caution, no pain - only the need to take lives in retribution for those lost in the land of Rohan in the past days.

Then strangely, everything halted at once.

Silence.

Dirk wrenched Neleg Amlug from the cloven orc-skull and the useless steel helm that held the blade fast and turned towards the Seat. There he saw the guildmaster, in baffling slow-motion, thrust the Spear of Orome in to the Seat, where Dirk could only guess from his vantage sat a powerfully endowed relic of some sort - perhaps the Arkenstone of Erebor.

There was a terrific explosion followed by a shower of light and heat. Dirk briefly caught sight of enemy reinforcements led by...

Tempest!

He had not the time to contemplate this new turn of events for arrows began to whine as tehy split the air on either side of his head. Dirk turned to face the renewed onslaught of orcs and Dwarves. He stood for a while shoulder-to-shoulder with the remaining knights.

"Are they all still standing? I cannot see through the bodies. I cannot hear them over the din." He thought, finding himself momentarily opponent-less. He performed a quick mental roll call, sweeping the battle-ground.

"Mirdain, Parador, Idril," he turned towards the seat, "Athelos...where is Elbren?!"

Athelos was desperately tring to fight her way towards the Seat of Hearing, where Elbren was last seen. Dirk, from below on the steps could not see what she saw. But he guessed that it must be Elbren....fallen.

"Dragon's Tooth! Neleg Amlug for the Dúnedain!" Went up Dirk's battle-cry. Four orcs fell without slowing Dirk's pace up the stairs. But standing at the top, with his feet spread for balance was the Dwarf-chief who had challenged Elbren earlier.

"Whelp of a boy! Time for your lesson!"

The mighty hammer was poised and waiting for Dirk. But Dirk was wise enough not to lurch headlong at the Dwarf-Lord. Instead, he feinted left and lunged right, prepared for the parry and counter-blow. Dirk moved swiftly and deftly, avoiding the great roundhouse swing of the warhammer that would have removed his head.

But he was not prepared for the second half of the combination. With incredible speed, the hammer reversed its direction and came upon Dirk's right shoulder, grazing his ear - an inch to the left and Dirk's skull would have been turned to mush. As it was, though, the strike was enough to send blinding pain down Dirk's right arm, causing him to involuntarily drop the black blade, whick clattered to the stone a few feet away. Dirk dove for a dropped enemy shield that was close at hand and barely got it into position to block the next blow of the dwarf's hammer, which summarily split the poorly-made orc-shield into splinters. Dirk rolled instinctively, escaping the follow-up swing of the warhammer, which thudded into the pedestal, pulverizing stone where landed. When the Mithril Knight stood, he found himself face-to-learing face with an orc brandishing Neleg Amlug. The Dwarf held his next blow, waiting for the orc to take Dirk's head. But the sword did not move. Dirk smiled as panic set into the orc's visage. Not only could he not use the weapon against its master, but he could not drop it, and it was beginning to burn like hellfire. Dirk smiled coldly as the orc fell to the ground writhing in pain, then the writhing stopped. The young Númenórean reached down calmly and pried the sword from the dead orc's fingers and with the Dragon's Tooth in his left hand, turned to finish the Dwarf-Lord, who stood dumbfounded.

He had recognized the blade. And now he saw the malicious fire in Dirk's grey eyes and he recognized that two.

With a single, uncontested lunge, Dirk thrust Neleg Amlug into the face of the Dwarf. The sword-tip penetrated the back of the Dwarf-Lord's helm. Dirk did not removed the blade, but rather the dwarf slid off of it.

Suddenly, awareness of Dirk's surroundings returned to him and remembered what he was doing atop Amon Lhaw. A thought questioning what had come over him flashed in his mind. But it was gone as quickly as it had emerged for Dirk saw his leader.

"Elbren!" shrieked Dirk. His voice utterly inaudible in the cacophony of battle.

Dirk sheathed his sword and strode quickly the few remaining paces between himself and grabbed a hold of the guildmaster's Mithril Cloak with his good hand, hauling the elf to his feet.

"Your orders, my Lord!?" Shouted Dirk. But the Leader of the Mithril Knights did not answer, though he was awake and only a foot away. There was no time to inspect Elbren's wounds, as the other Mithril Knights had been forced to retreat and rally upon the stone pedestal of the Seat of Hearing.

Elbren was fighting with the pieces of the Spear of Orome and shards of stone. The fighting became very tight and fever-pitched. More than once, Dirk found that he was literally back-to-back or shoulder- to-shoulder with his comrades.

Dirk was forced to stand atop the Seat of Hearing and defend himself. It was from that vantage that he witnessed the fleeing Tempest.

Once again, something within him took over and he lost sight of the melee at his feet. Tempest, for no apparent reason, stopped just before she was completely lost from sight and locked eyes with the yound warrior. The force within him compelled him to call to her, thought there was no hope that she would hear him.

"Nadal! Nar Vrapog!" A powerful voice that did not seem to be his own (though it was, as it sounded before his larynx was destroyed) reverberated from upon the seat. The black speech halted everyone-orc, dwarf, troll, and Mithril Knight alike. For a moment, silence echoed atop Amon Lhaw.

"Stop, don't run," Dirk repeated in the common tongue. "We need you. I need you."

A shout went up as the enemy recovered from the effect of the colossal voice and the despotic language of evil. The fighting renewed all about Dirk. But his eyes were locked upon Tempest, who still hesitated, reading Dirk's eyes.

She lingered only a moment longer; then turned and continued to flee. "No!" shouted Dirk.

His mind was awash with mixed anguish and anger. Why was she doing this? Dirk let loose a blood-curtling scream and lunged into the press of fighting orcs and dwarves in an attempt to break through and pursue Tempest.

But he could not penetrate the onslaught and thrown back violently by a tremendous troll-fist.

Dirk and the other Mithril Knights, surrounded and outnumbered, fought desperately upon the pinnacle of Amon Lhaw. They were trapped and badly in need of a miracle.

The power of darkness was in deed triumphant this day'for Tempest; the Witch of Mordor walked away from her hard fight'the fight to over come the darkness from within. Parador's heart felt the deep pang of anguish of a Mithril Knights' oath broken.

'Stop, don't run," Dirk repeated in the common tongue. "We need you. I need you."

The anguish deepened even more as Dirk spoke words that almost seemed lost before they even left his lip's'Parador's eyes searched out for Lord Elbren' the pain of sorrow laid wounded in a loss of friendship and betrayal.

'Run Tempest''run''whispered Parador''Run back to where you came from'but do not linger there for long'for your heart knows no longer, darkness'but it will claim you again Witch of Mordor if you tarry to long where the shadow's lie'

'M'lady'are you ok'?'.Athelos walked up beside her'

'Yes''.Parador gestured to Athelos''I'm fine, thank-you''The Mithril Knight made her way back to the Seat of Hearing'the mighty Wind Lord could be heard above her swathing a path toward them all the while Radagast gestured something to her'it was good to see both remained unharmed'a bit a tattered but non-the-less unharmed'his right hand swept across in front of him as he scooped up the air'he was trying to tell her something'Radagast was pointing to the shattered stones that lay in a perfect symmetrical formation. She looked back to the stones realizing the wizard wanted her to take them up.

Quickly she gathered the four pieces and scooped them into her pouch'and then retreated back to where Dirk and Elbren stood. Her words were of no use to the Lord'could it be that when Elbren destroyed the Arkenstone'the Seat of Hearing took that which was destroyed in exchange for his hearing?

Parador's mind quickly began to search for a possible answer'why did Radagast want her to gather the pieces of the Arkenstone?

Tempest found herself back in the same dark corridor from which she had stepped only moments before, Dirk's last plea ringing in her ears. She was running hard and nearly slammed full force into group of advancing dwarves with axes waving. She motioned them to pass and listened as their footsteps grew fainter. The only noise was the sound of her own breathing, and the irregularity of it brought her back to the present. The voice that had been plaguing her was silent and she stood, eyes closed and fists clenched at her side. If there had been anyone there to see her, they would have thought her a statue of perfect marble.

The weight of her actions finally descended upon her, rendering her helpless. She would have wept if she had been able, but instead she stood alone in the passageway with nothing but her thoughts for company. It was a terrible moment for her, but since the voice had left her, she was able to finally sum up clearly what must be done.

She turned around.

The voice returned violently. 'What are you doing?' it demanded.

'Going back. I am tired of running. I have been running all my life. If I go now, I will never stop. As you said, I have the choice. This time, I will not run.'

'You have already made your choice! There is no other way for you now, for if you return, they will kill you!'

'I don't think so,' she replied softly.

'You are one of us, you have no part with them anymore. Cast off their chains and unleash your true self that lurks just below the surface! You are a mighty warrior, a master spy. You should lead instead of follow!' the voice cried.

'Do not appeal to my vanity. I never served you in the past, but only Mordor. You have seen into my heart and witnessed the darkness there. I will not deny it, for it is with me always. However, if you have seen all that I am, then you must also have seen the other side, the part of me that still longs to be restored,' she persisted.

'You have failed. You have betrayed them. It is too late for regret or thought of redemption,' the voice said bitterly.

'Perhaps, but they were my friends. They are my friends. And though you have seen into my heart, I have seen into yours as well and all the black desire that within there dwells. There will be no peace if you reign, no peace for anyone.' She paused then as if something had just occurred to her. 'And you have no power here, not yet. Not over me. Not yet. Not yet'..' She uttered the last sentence in a strange tone that contained a hint of relief. As long as Saruman was not revived, his power would fade away. She still did not know what he wanted with her, how she fit into his master plan, but she need not listen to his voice anymore.

'No power yet? And what of your 'friends?' The elf woman and the other. I held sway over them well enough even in my present state,' the voice hissed.

'Not without the help of your dwarf slave. You can do nothing by yourself!' Even as she uttered these last words she felt as though her entire body was aflame, the fire searing every organ and sending pain screaming down every nerve. The voice had grown strong again and was laughing at her misery. 'I can still do much,' it said. 'Perhaps, if you will not help me, I will find another who can. Someone like you. Someone else who hides a deep darkness.'

She knew he spoke of Dirk, and the realization that he might succeed in turning the new Knight to his own twisted path brought such violent emotions to her soul that she nearly lost herself again in fear. With all the strength that was left within her, Tempest dispelled the voice from her mind. 'You shall not cause Dirk or Idril anymore pain, or anyone else for that matter. Not as long as I stand in your way. I will find the stone that Wormtongue had, and I'' she faltered for a moment and then continued, ' and I will pound it to dust and scatter it upon the wind, lest you are able to find someone else to do your bidding!'

The sound of vile cursing filled her ears, but it was gone as if it were only a gust of wind.

She did not have her sword, or any weapon for that matter, so she ventured into the open air again and into the light unarmed.

The storm had come, and she did not want to be left standing alone in its path. Elbren was right. Come what may, she had come too far to give up what she had learned.

As her eyes took in the surrounding scene, she saw that the Knights had gathered upon the summit and were now badly outnumbered. The fighting was fierce, especially now that the dwarves had joined the fray. Tempest raised her hand in the air. 'Stand down!' she ordered, and the dwarves looked at her in disbelief. 'Stand down!' she repeated, but this time in the Black Speech for the benefit of the orcs and the lone troll who joined them. 'The battle is lost! The stone is destroyed, and with it your hopes for victory!'

They paused, but only briefly and then continued as if possessed with an insatiable thirst for blood and destruction. She knew well the look upon their faces, the delight in war and being in the heat of battle. They did not care if the stone was destroyed as long as they could cut down their enemies and leave their bodies strewn upon the heights.

'If you kill them, there are a thousand more to take their place. Saruman has fallen! Why continue these heedless cause?' she shouted.

The dwarf closest to her pushed a sword into her hand. 'Saruman has not fallen, his plans are simply delayed by this unfortunate occurrence. After we finish these fools, we will go and retrieve the stone.'

'Where will we go?' she asked quietly.

'To the place where it all began.'

She shuddered, though she knew not why. She looked up and saw shadows in the distance and guessed that there were more eagles on the way. For once, she was glad of Radagast's power, and she hoped that he had been successful in retrieving Wormtongue's stone from the grave in the Shire.

Her hand felt as though it were made of lead as she lifted the sword and examined it in the light. The Mithril Knights might not last until the eagles came if she did not do something to disperse the dwarves.

'Let them die'..' the voice whispered on the wind.

Her dark eyes burned with a strange fire. 'My choice,' she said. 'My final choice. I will not be a slave again!' She took the sword and drove it hard into the back of the dwarf in front of her. She quickly finished off his two neighbors before the confusion began to spread. The dwarves did not know whether they should turn and fight her or focus their attention on the Knights. Some of the more skittish orcs began to escape toward the passageways, giving the Knights more room to breathe.

Tempest's eyes met that of Dirk's who was still fighting on the highest point. She nodded at him and signaled for her own sword. He hesitated briefly, but the look on her face convinced him. 'Elbren, the sword,' he said, gesturing toward Tempest's sword that the elf still carried at his side.

Ebren followed Dirk's gaze and saw that Tempest was fighting her way to the pinnacle from the back, slaying those she led into the battle a few moments before. The guildmaster hesitated a moment, clearly contemplating the right move within the code of the Mithril Knights, Dirk thought. But in the end, the desperation of their current plight and the possibility of another sword on their side won out. Elbren tossed Tempest's sword and Dirk threw it hilts first down to the stairs. Tempest caught the blade and with a graceful, subtle motion of her hand, used its momentum to sever the head of a nearby orc, without interrupting the arcing path of the sword.

Dirk fought on with renewed vigor, sword in his left hand and lifeless right arm hanging at his side. But to no avail, even though Tempest's turnabout had confused the enemy, there were still too many of them, bloodthirsty and blind with hatred. The Mithril Knights continued to tighten about Elbren's position in front of the Seat as the press of their enemy continued. Dirk lept from his station upon the seat into the center of the onslaught, attempting to cut a path for Tempest. But he was thrown back hard by a might troll-fist. He looked up, shaking off the haze induced by the blow to his bare head, only to see the troll looming over him, giant club poised to kill...

Then, without warning the troll disappeared. Dirk thought he was dead and half-expected to meet Mandos any second. Then someone shouted.

"Eagles! The Eagles have come!"

Radagast had not been killed, and neither had his mount, the Lord of the Skies, Gwaihir. They had only gone to rally the great bird's kin. Now orcs, dwarves, and trolls were being lifted into the air only to be dashed upon the rocks of Emyn Muil or dropped over Rauros; others were rent where they stood by tremendous talons.

Dirk found himself hauled back to his feet - which brought on the pain. He had no felt it yet, but his shoulder was badly dislocated and the pain was nearly unbearable. He raised his good hand and felt a nasty bump over his left eye; into which blood began to trickle.

He lifted his eyes to find himself face-to-face with Tempest and Elbren. Then the world faded to black.

"Dirk," Tempest began to say, but was interrupted by the swooping arc of an incoming eagle. Thinking she meant to do the Mithril Knights harm, the eagle's talons were ready to treat her with the same contempt that it had already done to many of the orcs and dwarves. Tempest ducked quickly and slid off the high point to avoid being torn to shreds. Most of the orcs had fled and only a remnant of the bold and furious dwarves remained.

However, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few familiar figures retreat into the shadows of the passageway. The dwarf with the braided beard and the two dwarves she had met in Edoras glanced back briefly before disappearing. The one with the broken nose made a small gesture towards her, but she could not tell from that distance what he meant.

She flattened herself against the ground and began to crawl slowly away from the summit. Suddenly, two feet appeared before her and Tempest looked up to see the face of Parador.

"What are you doing?" Parador asked sharply.

"The eagles, they think I am the enemy," Tempest replied.

"Are you?"

Tempest was silent for a moment and avoided Parador's eyes. "I don't know," she finally managed to say.

The Great Eagles swooped low, screaming their warning, and scattered the orcs and Dwarves that remained upon the the hill named Amon Lhaw. One had fallen, pierced through the heart with a steel bolt. Radagast and his Eagle landed near the Mithril Knights, but before the Istari came to greet them, he first went to the fallen Eagle. Kneeling near the motionless form, Radagast gently smoothed the feathers of the great bird's throat, and then he bowed his head in reverence.

Elbren watched the scene as a great sadness rose within his heart. A ringing had begun in his ears though the scenes around him were still muffled and faint. He turned to see Athelos, Parador, Mirdain, Idril, Dirk.....and Tempest. His companions were bloodied and battle worn, but they looked to have taken no death wounds, and for that, Elbren was grateful beyond words.

Radagast came to the Knights then and nodded first to Parador, "Keep those shards safe, M'lady, they will need to be returned to the Dwarves of Erebor." Then he turned to the others, "That was quite a stand, Lords and Ladies, one that is well deserving of song. I am glad to see that none of you have taken serious wounds," the Wizard paused then, and stared directly at Elbren. "Except, perhaps, for Elbren."

Elbren stood rigidly, the ringing in his ears becoming more profound, and though he could still not hear the words spoken by the Wizard, he had been able to discern a few by watching Radagast's lips in their movement.

"I am fine," Elbren said, but his words were such that it was now obvious to his companions that his hearing had been damaged by the blow to the Arkenstone.

"Aye, that you are," Radagast nodded, "and you will recover in full, I am sure. And, I fear, you can take little rest ere you are needed elsewhere. Time is short. The Red Hammer has sent a great force to Helm's Deep and to Edoras. They intend to occupy Edoras as their new capital city and keep the Rohirrim penned within the stone walls of Helm's Deep. It is all a part of their plans to become a presence in Middle Earth; a presence that they intend to spread fear and use that fear to enslave those that are too weak to resist. You must make all haste to Helm's Deep and make sure that the Rohirrim are not trapped within that fortress. Tell Eomer that he must send a force to Edoras as soon as he can and liberate the city. But, you...." Radagast pointed to the Knights, "you must then make all haste to Orthanc. To the chamber that has been discovered by your brethern....it is there that you can ensure that Orthanc is fully and truly free of the darkness of Saruman. You must claim it...awaken that chamber fully."

Elbren shook his head, "I do not know of what you speak, Radagast, I am sorry...did you say chamber in Orthanc?"

"When you get to Helm's Deep, you will find your fellow Knights, they will be able to explain," Radagast turned so that his face could be fully seen by Elbren.

"We go to Helm's Deep, then?" Elbren asked.

"Yes, with all speed. Descend the stairs again and return to your hidden camp. Take what rest you can, but with the dawn, you must be on the Plains and on your way to Helm's Deep," Radagast repeated.

"And where will you go?"

"I will see you again very soon; I must go to Orthanc and look at this chamber for myself. I will be waiting for you there as well as preparing the garrison for potential attack," Radagast then faced them all, "your bravery tonight shall be remembered for Ages to come. Saruman's first attempt to rise again has been defeated," the Wizard looked to the sky and frowned, "I must go. Rest until dawn, and then ride like the wind."

The Wizard moved hurriedly back to the Eagle who awaited him. Moments later, they were in the air again, flanked by at least five other Great Eagles. Elbren watched them fly into the stars and then he sighed heavily.

He handed the broken Spear of Orome to Athelos, who took it with a curt nod. "If we are able, then let us descend the stairs and return to camp. Radagast has bid us ride with the dawn to Helm's Deep. We will need rest--"

"And wounds need tending," Athelos said, "we have all taken hurts."

Idril led the Knights back to the spiraling stone stair and one by one the Knights began the descent, still on guard and not trusting the ominous silence that now rested upon Amon Lhaw. Elbren was about to follow Dirk, when he felt a hand on his arm. He knew who it was before he even looked back. Tempest.

She said nothing, seeming to struggle to find any words to say to him. Before she could speak, Elbren's emotions finally prevailed, and he spoke with hurt and anger to her, though his voice was low and he used her native tongue of the Rohirrim.

"When your sword was delivered to me, I grieved that you might be dead. All of the way up the staircase, I felt that sword upon my belt and I had to fight not to give in to the despair that thoughts of your death brought to my heart. Seeing you turn your back on me...on us.....was worse than any of those thoughts of despair. WORSE!"

Tempest's face had gone chalk white, but her eyes remained fast upon his. "I am here now." She said simply, though he could see that the words were hard won against pain and restrained tears.

Elbren's voice softened as he laid his burnt and bloodied hand upon Tempest's, which still clung to his arm, "And seeing you return, my friend, brought me great hope tonight when it was fast fading. We have stood against many storms together, Tempest, and we will stand against many more...together."