Lord Edland stood at the head of the Galadrim warriors watching patiently and directing as needed while the warriors prepared for their journey to Mirkwood...Parador all the while had been making her way around the Guild House in preparation as well for the Knights departure...

?We must depart at daybreak m?lady?...Edland spoke sternly...?Lord Elbren gave strict instructions that we must be in Mirkwood within three days...and I fear the enemy may be about before we even arrive Lady Parador?

Turning away and taking his sword?s hilt in hand, he began gripping it tightly...Parador watched knowing he was right...seeing his knuckles whiten under the tense grasp of his hilt enforced his spoken words around her heart...taking her hand to his shoulder and clasping it with the gentleness of a woman while her eyes burned with the soul of a warrior...their eyes met with an understanding of their responsibilities they both had to each other and their commrades...

?We?ll be ready m?lord?...She walked away feeling her heart harden to the evil that awaited them...then suddenly, the sun jewel of Anar that she wore around her neck began to pulsate...as if it were keeping time with her own heart rate...and...it began to burn as it did back at Orthanc. This time she concentrated hard on the stone as she wrapped her hand around it...taking in and eternalizing the heat that radiated from its core...the sweat began to trickle down her forehead...then down the side of her face...her skin glistened in the sun's early light as she continued to hold on to the fiery stone. A voice could be heard in the distance, ?I will find you...the time will come for us to meet?. Then the stone grew cold...Parador stood motionless with exhaustion pondering what had just happened...and wondering whose voice it was that just spoke to her from a distance to far for her to reach in time or place...

?Lady Parador! Come quickly?...Anorast and nienor-niniel had been walking the grounds when he shouted to Parador...

Quickly she looked up to the direction of Anorast?s voice...Lord Edland too, heard the shouting and came running with others at his heel passing Parador up as she was trying to regain her thoughts and composer...

The Mithril Knight made her way through the throng of Galadrim warriors breaking through to see a young man, though strong, straining a bit as he held what seemed to be a lady wrapped in a cloak...

Lord Edland took the moaning body from Marius arms just in time before he clasped to his knees...the short journey back to the Guild House was more than enough for any knight to endure carry someone in their arms such as this young man had done...

?Your name lad...who are you??...spoke Anorast sternly

?I am not a lad sir...I?m the son of King Eomer...and...the apprentice to Lord Elbren?...Marius spoke steely trying not to look undaunted with what had taken place last night

?He speaks the truth...this is Marius Brendar, the King?s son?...spoke Edland abruptly and then turned carrying Nurvilya to the Guild House where Lady Miriel greeted them...

The events of the day were getting quite interesting thought Parador as she approached Marius...?Our apologies Marius...we have not the pleasure yet, to meet you...our arrival here yesterday was in haste...too, the lands of Arda continue to build in danger and darkness...we will be departing for Mirkwood at first light?

?Therefore, stepping forward toward Marius, and raising his left brow, Anorast spoke...?you will need to get your gear ready for a few days of hard riding...Apprentice'

Looking in all earnest to the three knights who stood before him...?I will be traveling with Lord Elbren...and will leave with him?

nienor-niniel and Anorast looked to Parador and then to Marius again...nienor-niniel spoke cautiously knowing obviously that Marius had no idea that Elbren had departed already...

?Lord Elbren has departed already Marius...something of an urgent matter came to light and had to leave quite suddenly. He will meet us in Mirkwood...so you will be accompanying us on this journey?

The young apprentice looked disappointed and yet relieved...he had taken off without telling anyone of his where about...and then to witness Nurvilya's transformation was unnerving to say the least...he was ready for a journey right about now...especially to prove to Lord Elbren that he was not in need of no further training...maybe then, the Guild Master would have no choice but to tell his father that he was ready to lead the Riddermark...there was nothing more to teach such a courageous and valiant young warrior...

Yes, that is what he will have to do...and Mirkwood was the perfect place for a proving ground...Straightening up to his full stature, Marius took on the look of a serious contender for leadership...he would not bow down to the fear of the unknown and to what may await him in Mirkwood nor to what he witnessed last night...

little did he know...his training was about to begin...whether he felt in need of it or not...all things and free people of Middle-earth had a place...and Marius' was right where he needed to be...

?I will be ready and waiting for the three of you come first light?

'Ah, now that is the spirit young lad'...Parador clasped a hand to the young man's shoulder...Marius pulled away abruptly, not wanting to be touched...the Knight understood and took no offense...and only smiled a quick understanding of the age...

All four walked backed to the Guild House in silence...leaving each to ponder their thoughts to what they may encountered in Mirkwood...too, Parador's thoughts went to Elbren...wondering if his journey led to the encounter of the Dark Champion...Grond?

Idril was quite surprised at the reception that Mirdain received and in her instant fury, she hastily protested loudly. She got up and started making her way away from Tempest in an attempt to protect her hiding place albeit not for long. After she was surrounded, the guards decided that they should do a more thorough search. That was when they found Tempest, as she stood and made her presence known. The response of the elven guards to herself and Mirdain unsettled her deeply but the response to their finding Tempest down right worried her as they spoke many things, none of which were kind. They knew of her alright and it all seemed to be bad. She did not like this.

"Nadorhuan" (cowardly dog) one of them exclaimed.

"Amin delotha Ile" (I hate you) said another.

"Thaurer" (Abominable one)

"Morier" (Dark One)

"Gayaer ar 'Ksher" (Dreaded one and Evil One)

And at "Gurth goth Tel'Quessir" (Death to the foe of the elves) At this, Idril lost it!

"DINA!!!! TAMPA TANYA!!!" (Be silent. Stop that) "Why do you not welcome us? Has the hospitality of the elves, any elf, become so bad that you do not welcome even your own kind into your midst? I want to see the leader of your group for he or she has much to answer to for the erroneous treatment that we have received. As to our friend here, we do not fear her nor should you. Take us now to the leader of your order so that we may discuss our reception and that of our travelling companion. SII'!!!!!"

None of the three ever figured out what it was that made these elves obey Idril; her command of their language, her anger, the sound of her voice above all the others or possibly it was their awe of her. They were carefully gathered together and they started moving silently and with great care to not disturb anything. It seemed this group wanted to leave no tracks and the three understood that right off. As they moved along they began to use some hand & face signals that they had worked out to let each other know what was up with each of them. Idril was pretty quiet hoping that her demeanor would keep this group in check, at least for the time being until they reached their destination. As she looked around, there didn't seem to be anyone in authority among the group of guards and that she wondered at and she pointed that out to her friends in hand signals. Mirdain took notice of that and began to look more closely to see if he could find anyone with an insignia on his clothing. There were none.

Idril's hair was starting to work itself loose and she kept trying to keep it tied together. THAT would be the last thing that these guards needed was one of them to "disappear" in their midst, especially the commanding one! She was then careful to put her hair under her cloak to protect it from coming out again without her wanting it too and she cast a look at Mirdain and Tempest to say 'let me know if it is coming out again'. They both gave a slight nod of understanding.

They were moving through the forrest and it began to get dark.

The storm continued to approach their backs on the unseen or unfelt wind.

It was night by the time the party reached Menegroth and were brought into the throne room, though the thrones themselves were empty. Instead, a stern-faced elf greeted them, his eyes searching their own and looking curiously at the emblem on their cloaks.

"You have come to us at a dark time," he said, though his tone was still distrustful, "Otherwise, you would have found us more welcoming. I am chief captain of Doriath and am in command of Menegroth."

"Mablung," Tempest muttered under her breath, but he heard her and studied her intently.

"You know me, but I do not know you," he said, "And I must say I find it strange for a party of two elves and a woman to be wandering armed through the forests of Doriath. What is your mission? Why have you come to us in such a dark time?"

"Melian has gone," Idril noted, her eyes sweeping the throne room and coming to rest on Mablung again. "I can feel the power of the Girdle fading. That is why we were able to enter Doriath with little trouble."

"We are back a little too early," Tempest whispered to Mirdain and Idril. "The Silmaril has yet to be taken by the dwarves, and Menegroth itself has not fallen. We need to leave this place immedietly. The last thing we want is get involved in the fight between the elves and dwarves, especially since we KNOW who will win." The three of them all looked at the captain, aware that he would soon become a victim of the war for the Silmaril.

Mablung cleared his throat, obviously losing his patience and irritated that Tempest had been whispering.

"My lord," Mirdain said in a low voice to the captain. "Our mission concerns your ears alone."

Seeing that the guards had taken their weapons, the captain seemed willing to oblige. However, at the last moment, he agreed to only speak with Idril and Mirdain, seeming to distrust the presence of Tempest. Mirdain was about to protest, but Tempest insisted that she would be fine and was promptly escorted out of the throne room. The guards led her down many dimly lit hallways to a room where she would wait until the others were done speaking with Mablung.

She sat down wearily in a chair the guards provided, and then they left her alone and went outside to make sure no one entered the room. Tempest took a moment to observe her surroundings, but they were nothing special. She sighed and passed the recent events over in her mind. At least they knew that the Silmaril had not been taken yet. So far the past had remained the same. But, when would the Knights of the Silmaril make their move? If she was trying to steal the Silmaril, she would take it in the confusion of Menegroth, while the dwarves and elves fought and slew each other. It would be dangerous, but then, if the Knights of the Silmaril were able to convince the dwarves to help them, the timing would be perfect.......

Tempest woke up with a start and realized that she had fallen asleep. How long had Mirdain and Idril been gone? She rubbed her eyes and stretched. Her mouth felt parched, so she knocked on the door to ask the guards for a drink.

No answer.

She knocked again, this time harder.

Still no answer.

She knocked a third time and called out to them loudly. When they did not answer, she slowly opened the door and was surprised to find it unlocked.

"This could be a trick," she thought warily. "Maybe some sort of test to see if I'm a spy or something."

The hallway was deserted and the torches had been smothered. Tempest felt her heart quicken and she took a few timid steps into the darkness. It was oppressive and the only way she could feel her way along was by touching the walls. After several minutes, she could see light coming from a source ahead of her and she had begun to hurry toward it, hoping against hope that everything was still all right and that nothing had happened to Mirdain and Idril, when she heard a voice behind her.

"We meet again, Haleth."

Tempest spun around. In the dim light she could make out the shape of a man. Her hand immedietly went to her sword, but then she realized that she was still unarmed.

"Who are you?" she asked in a low voice.

"I'm rather insulted that you don't remember me," he said with a light laugh.

She swallowed. He was coming closer and her eyes squinted to make out his face. Then, in an instant she recognized him. He was the one she had fought long ago on the bridge before Sauron's Isle. She drew back with a start.

"Ah, I see you know me now, Haleth."

"My name is not Haleth," she replied sharply.

"Then what is your name?" he asked, and she could see the glitter of a sword in his hand.

"I will tell you my name if you will tell me yours," she said.

He gave a low laugh. "I think not."

"So, you mean to steal the Silmaril here in Menegroth? A bold move, though I fear you are a little early," she observed.

"Steal? We only claim what is rightfully ours. And as for being early, even now the dwarves are making their way through Doriath. Menegroth will soon fall," he replied with satisfaction.

"You will bring the ruin of us all! Take your Silmaril, but leave the world in peace! Why did you consent to ally yourself with an abomination like Saruman?"

A shadow of puzzlement crossed over his face. "Saruman?" he repeated.

"Saruman, the white wizard," she said again. Was it possible that he did not know Saruman? Could it be that the Knights of the Silmaril had unintentionally assisted him? Or was this Knight simply lying to her now? She could not be certain, but she did know that he had no intention of letting her interfere with his plans. If she didn't do something quickly, he would kill her and then retrieve the Silmaril from its place in Thingol's treasury.

She took a deep breath. She hoped Mirdain and Idril were faring better.

Mirdain and Idril were led into a chamber with many beautiful paintings on the walls, but it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of the room. Mirdain's discomfort showed visibly.

Mablung looked at him. The Lord and Lady are gone. Things will fade quickly around here.

Mirdain felt his heart twinge. He thought to himself "Mablung must be feeling the same thing that I felt after Galadriel's departure...Galadriel!" Mablung, where are the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn?

You know them too? There is much to tell I see. As for where they are, they left very soon after Melian. I advised them that it was no longer safe. Now I must ask, why are you here?

Idril answered him. We cannot reveal the exact nature of our errand, but please trust that we are here to help you.

I'm not so sure I can, in these times. Though, you do have a high air about you, and you showed genuine concern for Galadriel's whereabouts.

Mirdain weighed in. Then please, Mablung! Tell us what we can do to help you in your obvious need. I will tell you this much at least; we...tracked a group loyal to Feanor and to his oath to this place. We believe they are in league with dwarves who would take it, who have already tried... We were able to enter this far into Doriath seemingly unheeded. Surely your enemies will be able to do so as well.

Indeed. Scouts have informed me already of a dwarven army on the fences of this realm. We are disorganized, and there seems to be little hope left...You speak of the Silmaril and those who would take it. How do I know that you are not one of them?

Mirdain was not sure what to say, but Idril answered for them. We do not seek the Silmaril. If you have no trust in us, then lead us outside Menegroth, wherever you may wish. But we do seek to speak with Beren and Luthien, in the hopes of saving them from the peril that overcame Lord Thingol and, if you forebode correctly, will soon overcome this place entirely.

Very well. You will be led outside of Menegroth blindfolded. I can't trust you not to run right back to the dwarven army if I leave you alone, therefore you will go with the company I was preparing to send word of the happenings here to Beren and Luthien.

Mirdain and Idril bowed low. Thank you, Mablung.

I am not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. The messengers will be armed, and I am ordering that they should slay you instantly if you make one false move. Now be gone from my sight, and leave me to my doom!

"I feel as though I know you," Tempest said in a low voice, even as the man advanced towards her. "Tell me who you are."

"It's always better to keep the enemy in the dark as long as possible," he replied. "Though, in your case, I might make an exeception."

"Probably because he knows he's about to kill me," Tempest thought looking around for something to defend herself with.

"Your skill with the sword impressed me last time we met. I had heard that the Mithril Knights allowed humans to join them, though why you would want to is beyond my understanding."

"The Mithril Knights are dedicated to maintaining the peace of Middle Earth," she said drily. "Our cause exceeds the lust for the Silmarils, which nearly destroyed the Knights of the Silmaril."

"How very noble of you. But, have you actually beheld the jewels themselves?" he asked quietly.

"I have."

"And you felt nothing?"

"I felt an overwhelming distain for them, for the sorrow that they have wielded."

"But you are not an elf. You could not possibly understand," he burst out angrily. "The Oath must be fulfilled. I cannot stop until it is."

"No. There is always another path."

"Ah, the voice of experience. I knew I sensed some darkness in you. It haunts your eyes." He stepped swiftly toward her and pinned her against the wall, his face every close to hers. She could see him clearly now, every line and crease of his face, as well as the determindness in his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked again. "I would like to know your name before you die."

"No such satisfaction will be yours," she said, pushing her entire weight against him, knocking him off balance for a moment. She sprang quickly to the side and then rushed back the way she had come. She could hear his footsteps trailing after her, and she knew that his elven eyes could see much better in the darkness than her own.

But not all was lost, for at the last moment, she heard voices in the distance and distinctly heard Idril's voice calling out for her. The man behind her cursed softly and stopped his pursuit, melting back into the darkness. Tempest gave a sigh of relief as she stumbled into Mirdain and Idril.

"What is going on? Why are you out of your room?" the guard with them demanded.

"There was an intruder," she told him breathlessly.

______________________________________________________________________

"Are you certain it was the same man?" Mirdain asked her after she had repeated the encounter several times.

"Yes. He said that the dwarves will be here soon and he plans to steal the Silmaril in the confusion."

"Mablung confirmed that a dwarven army is on the outskirts of Doriath," Idril said.

"What are we going to do? If we pull back now and wait for Beren, the Silmaril may already be gone. I don't think the dwarves will get their hands on it again," Tempest said. "And another thing, he called me 'Haleth' several times. Do you know who 'Haleth' is?"

"It is not an elvish name," Idril replied, glancing at Mirdain.

"Wait a moment. I seem to remember the leader of one of the tribe's whose name was Haleth," Mirdain said with a frown.

Suddenly Idril's eyes brightened. "Yes, it was a woman. She led the tribe that dwelt near Caranthir's land."

"Caranthir? Wasn't he one of Feanor's sons?" Tempest said sharply.

"Yes."

"Caranthir. Yes, I think it was him. I feel it. It was Caranthir. It was something about his eyes; they resembled those of his brothers. That's why he was familiar to me," she said firmly. "Caranthir. Didn't his land border that of the dwarves?"

Elbren rode hard for three days, stopping briefly for rest, and with each step closer to the North, the gnawing in his gut increased. The Silmaril was still in Middle Earth...the Star of Earendil failed to rise each night...and the desire within him confirmed that it rested somewhere in the Northern lands.

He did not sleep, afraid of his dreams, and Erelas willingly bore his master and friend league upon league, ever towards the Iron Hills, until they found themselves with the Iron Hills gracing the Eastern horizon.

Here, Elbren held Erelas still as he stared at the silhouette of the rising land. His heart pounded within his breast. The Silmaril lay there; but, he shook his head, that was not why he had come. He had to seek the Dark Knight....and with that thought, memories from their first encounter flooded his mind.

Dangerous? Yes. Formidable and cunning, the Dark Champion was a force with which to be reckoned. All feared him...except perhaps Elbren, and that was only because Elbren had once saved his life and for that, the Champion had sworn an oath of friendship.

Well, not exactly friendship, Elbren chuckled in his weariness, but at the least, an alliance of respect.

With that thought, Erelas started, rearing upon his hind legs and snorting loudly, nearly throwing Elbren who had been deep in his own thoughts and remembrances. Calming Erelas as best he could, the Elven Lord surveyed the terrain around him, shadowy in the growing darkness of evening.

Nothing. No....off to the left....a slight movement....yes. Someone was there. Elbren nudged Erelas towards it, and the stallion reluctantly obeyed, tense and ready to rear and fight again.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, seeming to merge as a spawn of the shadows, stood the Dark Champion. Elbren started in spite of himself, causing Erelas to rear again.

"I've been waiting for you," the Champion said ominously.

"And I have been seeking you," Elbren replied, studying the man, his dark armour, his massive mace, his dark eyes......a shiver ran down his spine even though he knew that the Champion would honour his oath given Ages ago.

"Then come....and be quick. We have much to discuss."

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

The shelter was a ruin, Elbren could not tell if it was Dwarven or Northern Man made, but it apparently served the purpose of the Dark Champion and looked as if it had been his base for sometime.

There was a small fire and food, and the Champion would not speak until they had done with the formalities of eating, so Elbren obliged, surprised at his hunger and soon was devouring the roasted meat with vigor.

"Ask your questions," the Champion finally said, settling, as much as he would, across the fire from the Elf.

"Saruman--"

"Saruman has little to do with what the Red Hammer wishes," the Champion interrupted, "he simply recognised a future power and made an arrangement with them....should he....meet with dire ends, as he did."

"So they are simply allies out of need?" Elbren asked.

"The Red Hammer has been in the East for Ages, Elbren....they were mentored not by Saruman, but by another very powerful Maiar," was the reply. "Their goal is not just for petty Silmarils or treasure. Their goal is simple: Domination. Their numbers are VAST....vast. What you have seen is only a small contingent. They are testing the waters for what will be a war like Middle Earth has not seen since the Last Alliance."

The cold, calm words struck a resounding chord with Elbren, causing his mouth to go dry and his heart beat wildly.

"But, they ARE in league with Saruman?" Elbren asked.

"Oh yes, for Saruman's goals will serve theirs...for a time. Saruman wishes to take form again, but of course, the Valar will not grant him such an honour, as they did Gandalf the Grey, and for that, Saruman is seething in his bodiless form. He would make a deal with anyone or anything that would help him gain power. The Red Hammer very well nearly gave him that power upon Amon Lhaw, but you and your Knights did well when you thwarted that," Elbren was surprised at the anger that came out in the Champion's words, and took note of it, "and now Saruman has been laid upon the side by the Red Hammer. They now have bigger goals....the largest one, for now, being the domination of the North. And you may be too late; Erebor is barely holding its own. It could fall at any time."

"Forces are marching there even as we speak," Elbren said defensively.

"Nevertheless, the Red Hammer has taken over half of the land North of Mirkwood and more come to the Iron Hills everyday from the East."

"Tell me about the Hammer...of the Underworld," Elbren asked.

To his surprise, the Champion visibly started at the question, but then quickly calmed himself, "You need not worry yourself with that particular relic just yet; what you need to know is what the Red Hammer is."

"Alright then....what is the Red Hammer?"

"I will be direct, for time is short: Forged in Valinor by Sauron when he was an apprentice of Aule, this hammer came to Middle Earth with Sauron and dwelt with Him for Ages...it has been to Angband, Numenor, and Barad-dur. It was seen by the Red Hammer when they allied themselves with Sauron, and desiring it as your kind do the Silmarils, they adoped the name for their Clan."

"Why the 'Red Hammer'?" Elbren's curiousity was peaked.

"Forged with Sauron's own blood and under the light of Borgil, the Warrior star in Menelvagor, it was so named."

"And where is it now?"

"That is what they Red Hammer would like to know," the Champion smiled an unnerving smile, "they suspected that it was in Barad dur and when Sauron fell, they sent spies there to try and recover it. They did not find it. So they expanded their search...and still they seek it."

"Do you know where it is?" Elbren took another bite of the meat that had lain forgotten in his hand.

"No," was the reply, "but if it falls into the hands of the Red Hammer, then the domination of Middle Earth is just a matter of time. Sauron never used it, you see, for once Aule had discovered the Hammer's existence, he laid a spell upon it so that only his own folk, the Dwarves, could wield it in battle. He trusted that the Dwarves could never do battle against the Free Peoples...but now we all know that they can indeed."

"Yet Sauron kept it for all those Ages?"

"He did, for he could not bear to part with it despite the fact that he could only admire it and never use it in battle."

"Wait," Elbren leaned forward excitedly, "you said it was in Numenor with Sauron?"

"Yes."

"Then it never made it back to Middle Earth!"

"Very good," the Champion nodded, "it seems so obvious, and yet, the Red Hammer have not yet been able to discern that from Man's history...but perhaps they know little of the Fall of Numenor. It is my belief that the Red Hammer sank with the island."

"But..." Elbren thought for a moment, "it could have been brought with the refugees....."

"Perhaps, but unlikely. It would have been of little use to them--"

"Or perhaps it remained in Mordor while Sauron was taken to Numenor, " Elbren mused.

"No, it was in Numenor, of that I am sure. Isildur wrote of seeing it once in his journals. It was in Numenor....and again, I say that it sank with the island."

"Then the Red Hammer will never find it," Elbren said simply.

"A fact that they do not yet know. Use it to your advantage, Elbren. And do not forget that there are still treasures of power in the North that they may WELL find and use in place of the Red Hammer. Nothing as powerful, of course, but still, relics that could be used against you."

Elbren nodded in silence as he absorbed all that the Dark Champion had told him.

"You must leave at dawn and take your chosen path. Time is short. Do not tarry long wherever it is that you go."

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

With only a few hours sleep, Elbren then did take his leave, but not before the Dark Champion had agreed to assist him with his plan. Elbren headed West, with all speed towards Mirkwood; while the Dark Champion rode East, to the Iron Hills, to deliver a message to the Red Hammer King.....from the Mithril Knights.

?I will be ready and waiting for the three of you come first light?

Marius had said so, and thus their departure had been fixed ? dawn of the following day, three day to come to Mirkwood, a region that Nienor-Niniel only knew little from the time she had travelled through it with SilverScribe and her company.

The young Rohirrim would come with them, but what had happened to the Lady whom he had been carrying seemed to need more care and rest. NN was not sure of what she had witnessed, and to be perfectly honest, she did not really care. Since Elbren had summoned them, since she had seen the sickle again, the feeling of a presence growing on her mind was blending out almost all other conscious thoughts. The present seemed to vanish form her mind and her ears were filled with screams and voices from a time that she did neither know nor understand. It had begun in the moment when Elbren had pronounced the words Ç Hammer of the Underworld È and the eerie resonance had not stopped in her head, but become stronger and more appealing, though she could not distinguish any other words, just a whisper and a voice of someone calling her deep inside. Yet, there was something else. A voice and the clear word Ç room È.

Ç Lady Nienor-Niniel, have you heard my question? È - the voice of Edland almost awoke, so close had she been to trance. She saw the concerned look of Anrast and Parador on her, and tried to compose a smile.

Ç I am sorry. Fatigue is getting hold of me. È desperately she tried to remember what question from the outside had penetrated through the veil of voices in her head- yes the only clear word must have been from the outside. What could he have been asking for?

Ç Even a better reason to join our rooms and to get as much as rest as the night can still give us. You are still weakened by your stay in the storm and should be careful. È Anorast's concern was obvious, and Nin was relieved to see that it was not referring to anything else. The Lady Parador's quick glance on her hands did not escape her though and she restrained herself from the natural gesture of putting her hair behind her ears ? regarding how she felt, touching her face with that right glove would have left a large strain of blood by now.

While being guided to the Guild House where each of them had been giving rooms for the night, she walked behind Parador and Anorast, who were discussing the road to take. She could hardly resist the urge to close her eyes and to let herself glide into the sound of the voices she heard. Staying focused was difficult and NN was looking forward to being alone in a room of her own, where she could wash her hand, take a close look at the wound, and try to bind it. She still had the feeling that a contact with the sickle might have stopped the bleeding which was strong and continuous. It was only a small wound after all.

Once they arrived in the Guild House, the last details for the morning were settled, orders for food and horse care given. NN did not have to say a word ? Anorast settled everything for the two of them and through the fog in her head Nienor felt entirely grateful. How would she have managed to do this alone? She did not know ? and she was not yet used to it, but it helped greatly not to be alone any more. To be the member of an order, to travel with some who cares for you.

In this moment, she only longed to be alone and when finally in her room, she did not even take a look at it, although the Rohirrim Guild House had impressed her by its beauty. Once the door was closed, she leaned on it, closing her eyes, trying to shut her mind against the hammering voices in her skull. It was like a sound of boots marching towards her, like the remnants of a song of old, and she could feel that within the choir of voices there was one looking for her, calling for her. She now took off the glove. It was soaked and heavy. She washed out the tiny cut, but it was bleeding so heavy, that in the next second it was recovered again already. For the night she decided to place a compress on the wound with the hope to make it stop until the morning. Or at least slow down. Despite the voices in her head, she fell asleep quickly. Her last conscious thought was for Anorast. For the first time since he had found her, they were separated for a moment, and Nin realised surprised that she missed his presence.

After a dark night, a heavy dawn would reunite them all too soon. They would all be ready in time.

"We shall be leaving early tomorrow morning. Would you please have our mounts ready?" As the servant nodded, Anorast turned to look at Nin. She still seemed very tired. Anorast had thought that she hadn't yet recovered from the storm on the edge of Fangorn, but was beginning to wonder if she suffered from some other hurt, for she showed no signs of recovery. He'd have to check on her in the morning, after the first good rest since the storm. "And also, a good meal. We've journeyed far, and we still have a long road ahead of us."

Nodding again, the servant led Anorast and Nin down a hallway to their rooms. Showing them the doors, the servant left the two. Facing Nin, Anorast put out a hand to touch her shoulder. "Get a good nights sleep. You need it. If you want anything, remember I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Nin nodded. Then she turned and went in her room. Anorast stood a moment, looking at her door, lost in thought. He did not want to be parted from her now, and all the Mithril Knights were needed, but if her suffering would not let up, Anorast wondered if Nin should stay in Lorien. Yet he knew the most difficult part, if Nin did need to stay, would be convincing her of that need. Anorast had come to realize that she would not likely want to stay behind. Anorast hoped that he would not be forced to protect Nin from herself.

After a moment, Anorast entered his own room. Not tired, he checked his gear. Everything was in fine condition. Anorast made note to exchange his arrows for some of the Galadrim, which were superior in make and accuracy.

Done with that, Anorast tried to get some rest, but sleep refused to come to him. After a bit, he got up, and pulling his long gray robe about him, left the room. After listening at Nin's door to check for the regular breathing of sleep, he walked off down the hall. Gradually he made his way to the kitchen. Entering, he found the servant he'd spoken to earlier.

"My lord Anorast. We've taken care of everything for you."

"Thank you. Would you be able to bring three bundles of Galadrim arrows to me tomorrow before we leave?"

"Of course. Standard number, I assume?"

"Yes. Also, I was thinking I might take a look at the Guild House Armory. Would you be able to take me there?"

"I suppose...however, the Master of Arms is the only one who holds the key to the Armory. Do you want me to check to see if he is awake?"

"Yes, please. Don't bother waking him if he's asleep though."

"I would be surprised if he is, particularly now. I'll be back soon." Nodding to Anorast, the servant left. Sitting, Anorast waited patiently. Hopefully, sleep would soon find him.

The servant returned shortly. "My lord Anorast, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Armory now."

Anorast stood, and followed the servant down the halls. Eventually they reached a large, heavy wooden door, by which was standing a tall elf. The servant bowed. "My lord Anorast, this is Lord Thelion, the Master of Arms for this Guild House." He bowed again, and left them.

"Welcome, Anorast." Thelion had a deep voice, and a keen eye. He held a large key in his hand, which he fitted into the door. It swung open silently, and Thelion gestured for Anorast to precede him. "Make your choice well. And remember also that I must approve your choice before it leaves this room."

Marius knew not how he made it back to the Guild House with the Lady Nurvilya in his arms, but certainly someone was watching out for him, granting him the strength and endurance he needed.

The moment he finished his good deed, he was accosted by one of the male knights. ?Your name lad, who are you?? The youth, had he not watched his tongue, could have asked the very same question. Was this the way to treat a man dressed such? Could this elf not tell that he was of noble lineage? Thus, he answered in the most controlled, polite voice he could manage, telling his birth rank and his business in Lothlorien.

Yet there was one who spoke with more patience and kindness?one who knew the ways of Rohirrim cordiality?manners he had long believed were present elsewhere in the civilized world. Glancing at the elf, he wondered where he had learnt his manners, or if he had unlearned them with time. Bowing to the Lady Parador, he listened carefully to what she had to say, of the travels they would soon undertake.

Ignoring Anorast?s comment and demeaning tone, Marius replied to the Lady, ?I will be traveling with Lord Elbren...and will leave with him, as was my father?s desire.?

Silence. Looking up at the others, they looked at one another. What? What did he not know?

The Lady Nienor Niniel spoke softly, telling him that Elbren had ridden already and that he awaited them in Mirkwood. Trying his best to hide a smirk, Marius was not surprised. Lord Elbren knew that he was ready and needed not to follow his new Master around?he could be trusted fighting beside the fully inducted knights. Yet, at the same time, he was enraged that he was left behind like a silly child who might get in the way. It would be a test?if he passed, then Elbren would send word to his father that his training was already complete. The report would be, ?the young man already knows the best ways to defend the people and lands!? And with that, perhaps his father would be sated.

Marius nodded. ?I will be ready and waiting for the three of you come first light.? Yes, it was time to prove himself to the Order?to let them know that despite his youth, he was far advanced in his knowledge of war. After all, when he was but a child, he helped his father and brother defend Rohan from Orcs and unhappy dark people that he knew not their name. Rather than grow heated from this lack of understanding and respect from fellow warriors, he chose instead to retreat to his room.

It would be a sleepless night for him. Questions hung around the Guild House; questions that no one would or was able to answer. What was wrong with the Lady Nurvilya? What happened to the scars upon her? Why did the water change upon her skin? He was not frightened, merely curious. And would she not join them? He was a bit torn between going with the others and staying to discover the answers to her secrets. Why had she spoken of him the first night they had met? What was their bond?

Unable to help himself, Marius? mind returned to the Lady?s state in the woods?unclothed and wild. Never before had he seen such stark beauty, something untamed and fierce in the way she laid. Yet he did not take advantage of her. This was curious, for lesser, duller creatures he had met and bedded in Rohan he did not hesitate with, but this noble woman, helpless as she lay, he did not approach?instead, he had aided her.

Despite his noble thought to remain by her side and discover his part in her secret, he desired more than anything to be on the road once more. Remaining too long in one place created disharmony within his soul, unless he was at home. Yet even then, he roamed the lands, always seeking out the maiden in distress, the call of danger, the wild voices upon the turbulent wind.

Deciding that he would not find sleep in this place still tinged with elven influence, especially since he kept recalling the rude elf with whom he would be traveling, Marius pulled Laikemuil from its sheath, gathering up an old tunic that was in desperate need of repair. It now was used only for cleaning the blade and served its purpose well. Soon he would need to sharpen the sword, but he was sure that one of the other knights carried such an item on the road. His had been missing for a few days now, and despite the aggravation of having lost such an important piece of his equipment, he knew that there were worse things that could happen. So, until the early hours of daylight, the young man polished the sword made by elven hands the day of his birth, unable to connect Anorast with such a noble breed.

"Caranthir. Yes, I think it was him. I feel it. It was Caranthir..."

Mirdain's eyes lit up, and he looked at both of them. Caranthir. Yes, you're are right. It must be him. I can't believe that he would be in league with dwarves though. My guess is that their purpose merely suits his, for now. I know what to do, but remember, we cannot alter the course of events. We are here to restore them.

Idril clasped his arm. What are you saying, love?

The dwarves must be allowed to take the Silmaril. Tempest and Idril had a slightly shocked. I know it is hard for you. It is hard for me too. I had to let Lord Finrod Felagund die, and that was not easy. Remember our oath.

Of course we remember the Oath, replied Tempest. Though, I don't think the full ramifications of that in this task occurred to me until just now. How are we to let these dwarves have the Silmaril? The mural in Lorien shows dwarves proudly holding it after having slain Beren.

I am not certain. Though it must mean at least that in the new history, Caranthir fails in claiming the Silmaril for himself.

Idil stepped in. But what does that tell us about the dwarves? Something must have changed in the histories for them to be able to slay Beren instead of the other way around...

Tempest added, they must have been warned of Beren's presence and the danger they would face...by Caranthir perhaps?

I think it likely, said Mirdain, though I doubt very much that he desired to help them. More likely, he took the Silmaril for a brief time, then was taken himself by the dwarves and tortured into telling everything he knew. Therefore, it seems to me that if we can thwart Caranthir, we will have set history in order again, for now. Do you believe me?

Of course I believe in you, replied Idril.

Yes, it makes sense. It is the only possible explanation we have right now, replied Tempest.

Good, then we must immediately pursue Caranthir and...wait, where did our guard go? Mirdain realized with horror that, with his keen elven hearing, he could make out a thudding noise and muffled cries that sounded far off. The battle in on the doorstep! We must hurry!

Tempest seized his arm. But how is that possible!? Did not Mablung say that the army was on the outskirts of this realm? How long have we tarried here?

Too long, apparently, and that makes me worry all the more. Elbren will be expecting us, if he hasn't left for Mirkwood already. Therefore, we should take no more than 2 hours, if possible, before returning to this very spot, and then we should use the method he prescribed to transport back to the Mirkwood Guild House. Idril and I will make straight for the treasury. Tempest, will you pursue Caranthir in whichever direction you think he may have gone? You know him better than either of us now. If we can't join you again in battle, or if we fall, then do not tarry, and make your way back to the third age yourself and report all that his happened.

Mirdain, you know I will gladly do this. It would pain me to leave you behind, though I don't expect we shall have to worry about that. I have a feeling Caranthir's path will lead to the treasury once he finds his opportune moment, and our paths will cross again. But I council you not to hold out to the bitter end. Leave the battle before it becomes impossible for us to do so. If all else fails, we may yet make another journey to a different point in the First Age.

But we will not fail! Thank you, Tempest. May Varda bless your errand.

And yours, said Tempest with a nod, and then she turned and departed from the two of them.

Idril turned to him. Well, now we confront our enemy and our hope at the same time.

Indeed. To the treasury!

She could hear them ? sounds of iron covered boots. Steps leading up a staircase, long narrow and echoing on the stones. Above all was the sound of a hammer ? a heavy, dark hammer, forged of black steel, so big that it seemed to move on its own. And moving it was- hammering quickly without any pause, hitting the anvil at the rythm of her heartbeat. Nienor-Niniel could feel the steel of the blades forged by it, the hot, soft steel, becoming sharp under the sledges of the hammer. A mountain of swords seemed to be there, a heap of newly forged weapons, one as black and as sharp as the other. But there was no smith. Only the hammer and the anvil.

She felt as if she was hiding in this room, and in the mean time as if it had been calling for her. The regular rhythm of the hammer made her feel dull, like in trance. As if she were lying there on the anvil and the hammer hitting on her body, until it would be broken into pieces, until it had reached her heart.

Nin woke up with a scream in the moment when she had felt that the next beat of the hammer would bruise her. All was dark around her, but there was no forge and no hammer- only a guest room in the Mithril Knight Guild House. Instinctively she handed for her package and a few matches, but even before she found them and brought light back in the room, she felt that the bandage on her hand was soaked already. In the candle-light, it was confirmed: it was red, wet and full with her blood. The lines that the blood was drawing on her palms became clearer and clearer now ? it was the inscription of the sickle.

She stood up, in terror. What was it that she had seen?

Taking her candle, she left the room, knocking on the next door to find Anorast. She did not want to be alone, and somehow she had the hope that he would understand what was happening to her. But nobody answered. Nin leaned her head against the cold walls of the Guild house, holding back tears of exhaustion. She shrugged together, when a hand touched her back. But it was a servant only, who at least could tell her that the Lord Anorast had gone to the armoury and could lead her there.

On the way she could hear the echo of her own steps and thought again of the steps she had heard in her dream. Who had it been?

Anorast and Thelion seemed to be discussing, when the servant led her in. But immediately, as she entered the room she felt better as if a weight had been taken form her heart. And for a moment, the blood stopped flowing. But from the look of both of the Mithril Knights, Nin could tell that she must look terrifying. Indeed she was pale, almost white and now as she was not wearing the glove any more, she could not hide ? and she wanted no more - that her left hand was entirely covered with blood. Yet, Anorast came to her immediately, taking that hand in his own, covered with gloves themselves. Ç What is happening to you? È

Nin only managed to speak slowly, and she felt all the time that something was echoing back in her mind, all the time, like a voice trying to catch attention in a crowd. She told about the cut, that had started to bleed in the room in Isengard and not stopped since, about the voices she was hearing, about the dream.

Ç But I feel stronger in this room. È she said to the Master of Arms Ç I feel that something is supporting me. È

Ç Maybe it is because Lord Elbren has left the sickle of Arda in this Guild House. È answered Thelion.

Ç Yes. I want to see it. È Once the weapon was unwrapped, and Nin standing in front of it, her wound almost closed instantly. But not entirely. Anorast followed every of her least deep breaths. And when she faced the sickle, he saw happening again what had happened in the battle: her eyes changed. The pupils were gone, they seemed dark and seven stars were shining in them Only Nin did not even seem to realise it.

Ç I think I understand now. This weapon is calling for me. I think if I would touch it, my wound woul heal instantly. But I don't want it. I don't know why, but what I feel and see is like a message from the Hammer of the Underworld. They are connected. I don't want to cut the images I see ? they might lead us to the Hammer. È Nienor lifted her head and looked at the Master of Arms, whose eyes widened in astonishement, when he caught her glance. Ç But I want to keep this weapon. È Thelios nodded ? it was obvious that she was meant to have it , by whatever cruel joke of fate, this small, weak woman had been given the fate to carry one fo the most powerful relictants of Middle Earth.

Anorast held her arm firmly. Ç NN ? if a touch would close your cut- you should do it. How long can you keep on wounded like this, bleeding continuously? It might claim your life. È

Nin looked back at him, her eyes coming slowly back to their normal shape. Ç I know it. This is why we need to meet Elbren without any delay. Wake the Lady Parador, wake Marius. We must leave. I will have the strength if you stay at my side.È

Anorast watched as Thelion opened the heavy, ironbound door. He listened as Thelion told him that he'd have to approve any choice Anorast made. Nodding, Anorast entered the Armory. Inside, he found himself in a large, low room. Every wall was lined with racks for weapons and armor, and throughout the Armory, low tables were covered with smaller items. Near the back were several heavy steel compartments, which Anorast guessed held particularly sensative items.

Immediatly, Anorast noted a seperation in the room. Around him, closer to the door, were collections of identical items. He spotted several suits of Mithril Knight armor, which he'd seen at the battle at Helm's Deep. Apparently this side of the Armory housed standard equipment, made in bulk, though still of the finest quality. Anorast saw a large number of dwarven axes nearby. Apparently the Mithril Knights had weapons and armor from not only elves, but also dwarves and humans.

As impressive as the equipment near the door was, Anorast was drawn towards the back of the Armory. Here, a much smaller collection resided, but none of it was identical to any other piece. Every item was unique, masterpieces of work, amazing in their beauty and manufacture.

"You have good taste I see, Lord Anorast. This is where we keep our special weapons and armor."

"So I see."

"We accumulate many rare pieces of equipment, either finding them during journeys and explorations or being given them. Many of the pieces you see here were specially made for past Mithril Knights, and upon their death, were brought here. Feel free to select any, for those things we wish to remain here we keep under lock." Thelion gestured towards the steel vaults as he said this. "However, I must warn you, some of these items are more than they appear."

Anorast nodded. Like all who heard the stories of the journey of Bilbo to Erebor, he knew that weapons could hold secrets inside them, as Orcrist, Glamdring, and Sting did. He himself held an elvish weapon of similar power. Age had its benefits, he'd had long to get himself the finest weapons he could find.

As he walked through the back section, Anorast saw that his own equipment would have fitted in well here. Yet weaponry was not the reason he'd come to the Armory. Ever since receiving word that the Mithril Knights were summoned to battle, Anorast had been preparing himself. He'd checked his gear, and occasionally, tested his skills to make sure he was still able to fight well. However, he'd been troubled. Throughout his life, Anorast had fought his share of enemies, but always in small fights. Now, he faced the prospect of fighting as part of a large group, in a large battle. With his past fights, he'd never needed armor, for agility was more important, but now, he knew that he'd need extra protection, so useful in the chaotic, swirling mess of battles between great armies. With that in mind, Anorast looked for some armor to provide that protection.

It did not take long for Anorast to find what he was searching for. In short order, an empty table near the door felt the weight of his selections. First, he'd found a shirt of chainmail. Light, constructed of very fine, bright metal, its smith had crafted the tiny links into an intricate design upon the breast, a tall tree with a star amidst the branches. After that, Anorast had found a pair of vambraces, also light, of the same metal, with vines inlaid in gold coiling atop its surface. Once he had found those, Anorast felt content, and turned towards the door, but as he did, his eye caught sight of a magnficant bow. Black, inlaid with silver, it was of Lorien construction. Taking it down, he could feel its lightness. Stringing it, he felt the fine balance, and drawing experimentally, felt the smooth, silky movement. It would be a fine replacement for his current bow, a fine example of Lorien craft, but of little note otherwise.

Returning to the door, Anorast waited while Thelion examined his choices. But just before he spoke, they both heard a knock on the door. Turning, they saw a servant motioning an unseen figure through the door. As the person came into view, Anorast was shocked. It was Nin, but she'd changed since he'd seen her only hours before. Before, she had been pale, and quite tired, but now she was as white as snow, and looked as if she'd gotten no sleep at all. However, Anorast gave her face little thought, for around her hand was a cloth, soaked in blood.

"What is happening to you?" Anorast practically ran to Nin, and took her hand in his. As she explained, Anorast recalled how she had been since entering the secret room of Orthanc, worn out, worried. Now he knew why, and was frightened by how far she had pushed herself. Yet once she learned from Thelion that the sickle was in the room, he felt a change in her. Thelion led them to the back of the room, to one of the locked vaults. Opening it, he pulled out a heavy box, which he opened after placing on a nearby table. Immediatly Anorast felt Nin relax as she looked at the sickle.

"I think I understand now. This weapon is calling for me. I think if I would touch it, my wound woul heal instantly. But I don't want it. I don't know why, but what I feel and see is like a message from the Hammer of the Underworld. They are connected. I don't want to cut the images I see ? they might lead us to the Hammer. But I want to keep this weapon."

Hearing her words, Anorast was worried. He doubted she could bear the burden, of both her wound, and the contact with their enemy she seemed to have. "NN ? if a touch would close your cut- you should do it. How long can you keep on wounded like this, bleeding continuously? It might claim your life."

"I know it. This is why we need to meet Elbren without any delay. Wake the Lady Parador, wake Marius. We must leave. I will have the strength if you stay at my side."

"I shall not leave it, I swear. Come, you need some sleep tonight if we are to leave tomorrow. Let me finish with Lord Thelion here one moment." Turning to the Master of Arms, Anorast nodded towards his choices. "So, do you approve of them?"

The muffled shouts and clanging of metal was disconcerting as Mirdain, Idril, and Tempest parted company. It seemed that all of Menegroth was in an uproar and the guards were hurrying through the dim hallways to make their last stand against the dwarven hoarde. They paid little attention to Tempest now, though she was careful to stay out of their way, especially once she had left Mirdain and Idril.

Indeed, she had been loathe to leave her fellow Knights to seek out Caranthir alone, but there was little time for delay. She felt more confident now that she had her sword back, almost looking forward to laying hands on Caranthir now that she was armed. She retraced her steps to where she had first seen Feanor's son and stood listening for several minutes. She did not know her way around Menegroth, though she had a vague idea where the treasury lay. She figured that Caranthir would eventually make his way there, but not until the dwarves had done their worst. She was certain that he was working with them, despite Mirdain's objection that Caranthir would not cooperate willingly with the dwarves. Somehow, everything must be connected and Tempest had the distinct feeling that they were missing some vital part of the puzzle that would make sense of all the other pieces.

The halls had grown silent around her, the sound of fighing distant and almost irrelevant as she continued her search. She was cautious of every noise, for the guards had all left their posts to secure the main doors and entry points. "He should be lurking somewhere around here," she thought to herself, aware of the oppressive closeness of the walls.

"I feel like a rat in a maze," she mused, but then she drew up shortly. She had turned a corner and almost run into two people huddled whispering to each other. As her sword caught the reflection of the torches, they turned towards her and she saw that it was a man and a woman.

Caranthir was not among them, but Tempest was surprised because the woman wore a cloak of the Mithril Knights. However, it all began glaringly clear to her in a moment, for her gaze fell on the man beside the woman, the very same prisoner whom Elbren had questioned not three days earlier and who had escaped shortly after.

"You!" Tempest cried angrily.

Nurvilya lay quiet for a few moments before she opened her eyes. She could feel hard ground below her body, but it was cushioned by the thick warm cloak wrapped around her. Vaguely she wondered who had put it there, and if they might still be around. She was sure that there was something important that she was supposed to remember, but her thoughts chased each other chaotically through her mind, and she was unable to hold anything steady.

Slowly, she ventured to open her eyes. At first she could see nothing but darkness, but soon sluggish images began to swim before her eyes. She could faintly recognize a pair of aqua eyes in a pale face, and was about to stir, when a searing pain between her eyes made her shut them again.

"Elbren must know..."she tried to say, but her words were lost in the darkness clouding her mind again

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

A faint ringing sound woke Nurvilya for the second time she could remember. This time, she could feel not ground, but a soft bed beneath her. She could hear hushed voices behind her, full of consternation and what she thought might be fear. The ringing, she decided, was in her head. She tried in vain to turn and face the voices, but the motion sent spears of pain through her, and her breath caught in a gasp. The voices ceased at once, and a tense silence filled the room. Finally, an elf she did not recognize crept around so she could see him. There was the sound of other footsteps leaving the room.

"You are awake then? And how do you feel milady?" He asked with a slow caution in his voice.

"Terrible, thank you." Her voice was trembling with the effort of speaking. "I must see Lord Elbren at once. Is he here?"

The elf looked at her with something close to pity. "No. He left for Mirkwood three nights ago. There are few of your Order remaining here."

"I am not of their Order," Nurvilya said softly. She was frustrated to be so out of touch with the Knights. "It is your own fault," said a voice in her head, "Were it not for your pride, Elbren could have known sooner." She knew this to be true, and swallowed the ball of anger that had been building in her throat. "I must speak with someone," she said finally.

"You might ask the Lady Carnimiriel, though you should know that the Mithril Knights are not foremost in her favour right now." The elf looked embarrassed, as though he may have said too much. Nurvilya did not notice.

"All right. If you would kindly bring me my things, I will try and see her as soon as possible." The woman sat up abruptly, but was forced back down both by the swimming in her head and by the strong hands of the elf.

"Rest now," he said. "When you are ready, she will come to you." He withdrew his hands suddenly, as though he had been burned, and left her alone without another word.

Turning to the Master of Arms, Anorast nodded towards his choices. "So, do you approve of them?"

Thelion nodded, his eyes on the elf's choices. "Aye, they should serve you well, Anorast. Good luck to you, then... both of you." His eyes were on Nienor-Niniel's white face. He stood near the door, ready to fasten the door behind them.

Carnimiriel looked up from her morning lesson with the children as she heard a gentle tap on the door to her study.

"Come in, Tathren," she said as she closed the weathered book from which she was reading.

Tathren was her father's first cousin, and he and his mother were her only blood relatives, besides her children, in Lothlorien now that Galadriel was gone. She knew him well enough that she could sense his presence on the other side of the door even before he knocked, and also sensed that whatever he had come to say would interrupt her morning plans. Nevertheless, she welcomed him with a smile.

Lorfindur did not let him get a word out, however, before she jumped up and ran to show him the parchment upon which she had been laboriously writing.

"Look, Cousin!" She exclaimed excitedly. "Mother is reading in Quenya and we are translating into Sindarin."

"That is very good!" Tathren glanced briefly at the parchment, smiled indulgently, and reached down to ruffle Lor's golden hair. "How is yours coming along, Rosmarien?"

Rosmarien shrugged distractedly and said, "Oh, I finished that already. I was just drawing."

But when Tathren took a few steps toward her so that she could show him her own work, Rosmarien quickly folded the parchment and tucked it inside her book, then looked up at him with solemn eyes as if defying him to ask what she was drawing.

Carnimiriel took all this in with a worried frown. Rosmarien had been behaving strangely since she had begun having the nightmares.

"May we be excused to practice archery with Galadhon and Ronin?" Lorfindur asked politely, clearly ready to be done with her lessons.

"Yes, we are done for the day." Miriel smiled at her daughters, so alike in appearance, except that Lorfindur's locks were golden, like her mother's, and Rosmarien had Elbren's silver hair. Yet, their personalities were so different. "Be careful and, absolutely no bickering."

"You should be saying that to Galadhon, not us." Rosmarien observed with a raised eyebrow. "He and Ronin -"

But Carnimiriel raised her hand and cut her daughter off, saying, "That is between me and Galadhon and none of your business. Worry about your own conduct, please, and not your cousin's."

If Galadhon had done something to upset Ronin, which was entirely possible since Ronin had been in a sulk ever since Tempest left, Miriel would have to deal with him later. Tathren was waiting, and for some reason she feared whatever it was he had come to say.

Once the girls had put away their books and scurried from the flet, she raised her grey eyes to meet his.

"Sorry," she mumbled with a weak smile. "What is it, Cousin?"

"The woman, Nurvilya is on her way here. I happened to be on duty at the Gate when she returned and thought you might appreciate some advance notice."

Tathren was one of the few of her trusted advisors to whom she had confided the matter of the werewolf spirit.

"I commanded that she be brought to me days ago!" Miriel stood up from her chair and tugged irritably at a stray lock of her hair. "Truth be told, I had almost forgotten her with everything that has happened, but what on earth took them so long to find her?"

Why did she have to present herself now, Miriel thought with annoyance, when Elbren was gone, and Mirdain, and Idril and Tempest, whom she had hoped might be able to shed some light on the business of the wolf spirit?

"That I do not know," Tathren replied mildly, his hand outstretched towards her, "but she was not in Caras Galadhon when you had first given the order."

"I mean no offense, Tathren, I know you are only the messenger, and I truly appreciate the warning." Miriel schooled her features into a smile and stepped forward to take his hands. "When you leave, please ask the guard on duty to send Brethilwen to me. She does wonders contacting tree spirits; perhaps she might try her luck with a werewolf spirit."

Tathren had scarcely left her chamber when two guards arrived escorting the woman between them. She looked tired and frail, and almost against her will Miriel felt a rush of sympathy. Who knew how it must feel to bear the burden with which she was cursed?

"You are Nurvilya." Carnimiriel's voice was coldly neutral as she stood from her chair, drawing herself up to her full height which made her seem to tower over most mortal women. Instinctively, her hand went to Runya, the red jewel hanging around her neck, though she did not need to touch it to draw on its powers.

She studied the woman for a moment without saying anything, though she did not venture to enter her mind. Though Galadriel did this often enough, Carnimiriel had always been uncomfortable doing so, especially without permission. But what she could read on the surface was enough to tell her that something very wrong had happened. It seemed that behind her pretty face Miriel could perceive another face - one with silver fur.

"Why was she not under guard?" Though Carnimiriel's voice was calm, there was an iciness that was not unnoticed as she turned to the more senior of the two City Guards who had brought her in.

"I am sorry, M'lady, but she was not to be found..."

"How did this happen? There has been an abomination committed within the borders of Lothlorien, and this should have been prevented."

"I...we..." the younger guard began, spreading his hands helplessly.

Carnimiriel realized that he had no idea what she was talking about - the guards were only instructed that Nurvilya was in danger of 'fits' and to place her under a full-time guard. Perhaps she should have let more of the officers in on the secret, but she did not want to create a panic or have rumors spreading that would make the Galadrim hostile towards this human stranger.

"It was my fault." Nurvilya said softly, her head drooping. "I should not have left the city."

"You should not have been allowed to leave the city." Though Miriel addressed Nurvilya, her eyes strayed to the guards. She would have to find out who had been on duty that day. She made a mental note to assign two of her most trusted guards to this duty and make sure they were fully aware of the dangers - perhaps even Tathren and Eregnil, who had also been her personal guard during the War of the Ring.

"But no harm has been done, I hope?" Carnimiriel studied Nurvilya intently, awaiting her answer.

"I do not think so, M'lady." Nurvilya replied, raising her eyes to meet Carnimiriel's gaze calmly.

"Leave us, but wait outside the door for my signal."

Miriel dismissed the guards, and Brethilwen slipped into the room just as they were leaving, her hair disheveled and a faint smudge of ink on one cheek. Probably copying music for her husband, the bard Kellin, Carnimiriel thought to herself with a smile. Either that or working on her treatise on tree lore.

Brethilwen sat down upon the chair recently vacated by Rosmarien, and pulled from her voluminous sleeve a small notebook with which to record the details of today's encounter.

"The moon is almost full." Carnimiriel intoned ominously. "I am afraid we will have to keep you locked up at night, for your own safety and ours."

"I understand." Nurvilya replied.

Miriel studied her again and decided that this woman must be sincere about wanting to get rid of this wolf spirit. But how to do it? What made Elbren think she was capable of this?

"First, I will need you to tell me as much of the history of this...possession, I suppose, as you recall, starting from the first time you were aware of this...spirit."

She nodded to Brethilwen, who was staring so intently at Nurvilya that she opened Rosmarien's book upon the desk instead of her own. A folded piece of parchment fell out and drifted slowly to the floor. Brethilwen, known more for her skills as a scholar than her grace, set down her quill and reached down to pick up the paper, but not before Nurvilya glanced down with an audible gasp.

"How did you know? Did you see me in the forest?" She turned to Brethilwen, all color seeming to have drained from her face.

Carnimiriel stood abruptly and walked towards the desk, as the parchment was not in her view. She saw that Rosmarien had drawn a very lifelike portrait of a silver wolf - a wolf with strikingly human eyes. She had clearly inherited her father's talent for artwork. Was this what haunted her daughter's dreams? She suddenly felt sick. It was all the more urgent now to somehow get rid of this evil spirit, before it harmed someone she loved.

As Brethilwen stammered some sort of reply, Carnimiriel picked up the parchment and tucked it inside her belt.

"I apologize, Nurvilya, but I believe the matter of this werewolf spirit has suddenly become more pressing. I don't like to do this, but I fear I cannot address this adequately unless I enter your mind. Will you permit me?"

As Miriel awaited Nurvilya's answer, she dearly hoped that the woman would say yes, because she felt certain that however distasteful it might be for both of them, this was the only way to solve the puzzle of the werewolf.

The night had been long...drenched in an ocean of dreams...faces Parador recognized...others she was not sure of...for whatever reasons these dreams began to invade her sleep for they seem to be reaching out to her...trying to give way to a path...it spoke truths to her...in whispers so subtle and yet...so clear were the visions and faces

?Turn around and face me'...her voice echoed...'show me who you are that lurk in the shadows-n-darkness...dare to face me?... Parador spoke in her sleep. Her hand searching her side for the hilt of her sword only to grasped the woven Elven blanket. The vision she had at Isengard...had brought her back to the Tower of Orthanc...she could see herself standing motionless...not even a breath could be seen to escape her. The cloaked figure turned toward her, but before she could catch the site of his face...pain began to sear the skin of her chest...Parador grabbed the stone that laid against her skin...clutching it tightly within her hand...breathing deeply and trying to focus her energy away from the fiery jewel only to eternalize it...gaining control over its power within her.

Her eyes opened suddenly as she gasped for a breath of air...she laid still for a moment before moving herself to the edge of the bed...the sun was still hidden behind the mountains...dawn had not broke the horizon yet. Parador rose exhusted from the bed and dressed for the journey to Mirkwood. Time was of the essence...her heart raced with anxiousness. Pulling the door open her eye caught site of her shield...the candles reflected off the sheen it bore in its brilliant workmanship in mithril...walking over and taking it from its resting place she straddled it across her back while TœrRuin rested comfortably on her side mount...

Forgetting the nights messages and thinking only of the journey that lie ahead of them...Parador made her way to the meeting ground of the west gates...there Lord Edland stood quietly as he waited patiently for all to assemble that would be riding to Mirkwood...

?You...are late?...Marius broke from the shadow along side Edland...the young lads stature stood tall and resolute...a bit of arrogance could be detected by Parador...but she let it pass...

'I had company last night and was kept quite late'...Marius smug smile turned to a shocked look...Parador felt no need to explain her remark...her dreams and visions were not something she openly talked about...

There was no time to challenge the attitude of Elbren?s apprentice niether...and even then, the Knight knew that would not be the way to gaining Marius attention...he would only grow cold toward her and shut out any type of lecture on how to treat your elders that she could conjure up. Little did he know...Lady Parador knew the worth of his soul and the capabilities sown into his spirit and his character. If only he would let those who were wiser help bring them forth to greater knowledge and truths...she felt confident Lord Elbren was the man to do this...'it will get interesting, I've know doubt', she thought to herself smiling slightly...

Her eyes passed from Marius and took to Lord Edland?s...?Have Anorast and Lady nienor-niniel arrived yet??

?They follow behind you m?lady?...the Galadrim commander nodded his head with his eyes looking past hers in the direction of the approaching Mithril Knights...

Both knights escorted their horses to the front stopping along side Parador...a smile of relief crossed her face...it was good to see them both...especially nienor-niniel...the Mithril Knight glanced at her hand to find it sleeved within a heavy glove...Lady Parador need not ask how she was doing...it was n-n?s face that gave her away...the life in her eyes was growing dim...the skin of this beautiful women was made to be even more pallid than yesterday...

Marius could not help but stare...Parador stepped forward gesturing the time had come to depart but turned abruptly to her?n-n...I beseech you...you do not look well...Parador hesitated and then spoke again slowly...'I fear for you. May be you should wait here and...'

A look of disblief in what Parador said crossed Lady nienor-niniel?s face...she spoke forcefully? I must go to Mirkwood and then on to Erebor...there is no help for me here?

Anorast broke in drawing closely to the two knights...quietly trying to control his anxious feelings without bringing attention to them...?n-n?s hope for healing lies in Erebor...it lies with the Red Hammer. Please...let us depart now?...Taking n-n's arm gently he helped her to mount her horse...

Taking to her horse, Luinsul, she knew Anorast and n-n were right...but to see n-n in this kind of pain deeply concerned the knight...the thought to lose anyone on this journey was a thought she cared not to tarry with...it was a chance of death though that the Mithril Knights and to those who took up arms against the evil forces that plagued the lands and seas from time to time and to which seem to not lie quiet for very long...were willing to take upon themselves...it was just something you did without hesitation, no thought as to 'should I?' No...no thought of death could stay the hand of courage and the heart?s nobility and selflessnes that the sons and daughters from many generations' past and present bear by the gifts Illuvitar...

As Galadrim warriors and Mithril Knights passed through the gates...Parador thought of the woman Nurvilya, who Marius found in the woods last night...she would be in good hands with Lady Miriel...all felt confident she could be healed from the curse that has tortured her soul for many long years...

______________________________________________________________________

The sight of the Mirkwood guild house was a welcoming beacon...it had been a long hard ride...soon they would meet up at last with Lord Elbren once again...and then the initiations would begin. Off away from a distant the sound of movement and talking could be heard as they approached the guild house...

Parador immediately recognized a knight-in-training making her way also toward the guild house...she remembered meeting her in Isengard. But where was Dirk? Lady Parador searched around the grounds wondering why Arwen_Sol was to arrive by herself. She pushed the thought out of her mind that something may have happened to the young mentor knight...but she felt she would have sensed this if he was hurt or had been killed...she would find out soon enough...

Things happened quickly after that, because Tempest had surprised the Knights of the Silmaril as much as she herself was surprised. She had the advantage in that she had already drawn her weapon, but in the brief pause that followed her angry shout, both elves hastily drew their own. However, the fear written on their faces clearly revealed that they thought Tempest to be the better swordsman.

?Haerim,? Tempest said in a calm voice to the woman. ?I would not have guessed that you would be in on this.?

The elven woman was clearly shaken, but made no reply.

?I guess that explains how you made your escape,? Tempest continued, gesturing toward the other Knight.

?You were going to execute him!? Haerim said accusingly, at last finding her voice.

?And rightly so. If it had been up to me, it would have been done long ago.? Tempest replied in an even tone. ?So, are you both here to assist Caranthir in stealing the Silmaril??

They blinked at her and exchanged glances and Tempest knew that she had guessed correctly. At least now she was certain that it was indeed Feanor?s son with whom she had spoken. In the distance, she could still hear the muffled sounds of clanging weapons, but it seemed closer now than before, and she guessed that the doors had been breached. She hoped that Mirdain and Idril had found the treasury and prevented Caranthir from completing his task. She doubted that she would be able to make it to the treasury now, especially with these two traitors to deal with.

?Drop your weapons and I will show you mercy. I will take you back to Mirkwood with me to face the justice of the Mithril Knights. If you choose to resist, I will exercise that justice here,? she said, raising her sword a little higher.

?Mercy? I already know my own fate if I should return with you,? the man scoffed. ?I would rather die fighting than suffer execution.?

?Very well,? Tempest said coldly, but then turned her eyes to study Haerim. She caught a glimmer of indecision in the woman?s face. ?And what of you? Do you share his resolve??

Haerim swallowed and replied in an uncertain voice. ?Yes.?

?It is not us who will fall this day, but you! The Knights of the Silmaril will prevail!? the man said passionately. ?Our oath will be fulfilled even if you succeed in defeating us!?

With that, he struck out at her, which was exactly what Tempest had been waiting for. She did not want to be the one to begin the fight, though she wanted very much to be the one who ended it. Though she was out-numbered, she felt the hesitation in the woman?s blows and took full advantage of it. It was the man who she had to worry about, for he was fighting for his very life and knew it. There was nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal.

It was a good fight. Tempest had not had such a fight in a very long time, and she allowed all her frustration and anger to come out. Her viciousness and the strange expression that filled her eyes surprised her enemies. They had not seen her in her bloodlust before, and therefore did not realize that she would not stop, though she be wounded or weaponless, until she was either dead or victorious.

Haerim faltered under one of her blows, and Tempest saw her opportunity. She quickly ran her sword over the woman?s exposed arm, causing her to drop her sword and grip her arm in pain. When her ally came to her rescue, Tempest had already retrieved the woman?s sword. After that, the end came quickly. The man?s attention was divided between his wounded friend and his raging opponent. He could not defend against both swords, which Tempest now had in her possession. As he deflected one, she brought the other up from below, wounding him underneath the ribs. He gasped once and made a feeble attempt to deflect her second blow, but she easily knocked the weapon from his hand and aimed straight for his heart.

He died quickly, which was more than he deserved, Tempest thought to herself.

The silence in the hall was deafening. Haerim whimpered softly with her back against the wall. Tempest said nothing, but dislodged her sword from the foe?s body and turned her dark gaze to her.

?Mercy,? the woman whispered and in the dim light, the emblem from the Mithril Knight cloak that she wore, faded from view. Tempest took a step towards her.

?Mercy,? Haerim repeated, her voice rising in panic.

Tempest turned her head slightly to one side and studied her. ?Mercy?? she asked. ?Mercy? That time has passed. You chose your own fate.?

?Please. I.? the woman began to cry.

?Do not look to me for mercy,? Tempest said, stepping closer. Her purpose was clear and her determination unwavering. There would be no second chance this time. There was no pity in her heart as she brought her sword down hard against the cringing figure. Haerim lifted her hands to defend herself, but it was to no avail. She crumpled onto the floor with a sputtering cry and Tempest watched as the emblem on her cloak turned crimson.

Tempest stepped over the bodies and checked each one for anything of value. Already she could hear running footsteps nearby, and since she had no desire to confront any of the approaching dwarves, she decided that the best course of action would be to leave. She hoped Mirdain and Idril had already escaped, but she could not make it to the treasury now to see. She would have to meet them in Mirkwood.

With a sigh, she followed Elbren?s instructions and sent herself back through the currents of Time.

Mirdain could hear clearly now the clashing of swords and cries of pain as he ran through the halls of Menegroth, with Idril a step behind. He worried that they would be ambushed at any moment, as his eyes darted this way and that. Eventually, they emerged through a door into a large chamber that Mirdain new instantly to be the entrance to the treasury. The large vault door looked to be made entirely of mithril, or else coated with it. There were a number of doors leading into the vault from different directions. He hoped to see Tempest emerge through one of them soon. Suddenly, Mirdain could hear a rush of footsteps coming from behind a door across the room, but felt immediately that it could not be Tempest.

Idril! Use your ve....

But it was too late. Mablung burst through the door, along with a number of other important-looking soldiers of Menegroth. The two parties stared at each other dumbfounded for a moment before Mablung finally spoke.

You! Why are you still here? What happened to the guards I sent to escort you out of here? Did you kill them!? Speak quickly, I do not have much time!

Idril answered for them. Please, don't stop us. We are on your side. We must protect the Silmaril.

Ah, the Silmaril. I thought as much. How do I know that you do not intend to steal it yourselves. I have seen others wearing capes similar to yours. And every one of them had and ill-favored look.

But you see that we do not, returned Mirdain. We are not in league with them or their kind. You outnumber us greatly, and would be able to kill us anyway, if you desired. If you do not, we will do what we may to help defend this place.

Hmm, perhaps you are right. What of that friend of yours, the third one that I had confined separately? I suppose she escaped as well?

Idril answered, You will have no trouble from her. At this very moment she is tracking the footsteps of one who will try to steal the Silmaril. Please, all that we ask is to be allowed to allowed to stand guard in front of the vault. We will not interfere with you.

Mablung stared at them, as if still unsure about what to do. Finally, he said Very well. Menegroth is taken anyway. If it suits you to die here with the rest of us, then so be it. Neither Mirdain nor Idril answered him, unsure of what to say. Suddenly, there came a loud crashing noise from beyond the main doors to the room. They have broken through! Quickly, brace the doors! shouted Mablung. He and his guard rushed to do so, leaving Mirdain and Idril to their own devices.

Idril motioned to the door. Should we stay here? Or look for Tempest? I am worried about her.

Merdain replied flatly. It is our duty to thwart Caranthir...no matter what. However, in his heart he dearly hoped that she would find them.

As if he had been called for, Caranthir burst through the door nearest vault on Mirdain's left, along with 2 other similarly dressed elves. Mirdain drew his sword, as did the enemy. Idril began to loosen the braids in her hair...

"I apologize, Nurvilya, but I believe the matter of this werewolf spirit has suddenly become more pressing. I don't like to do this, but I fear I cannot address this adequately unless I enter your mind. Will you permit me?"

The Lady's voice was sharp and matter-of-fact, and Nurvilya found it difficult to understand the full implications of such a course of action. She was flustered and confused under the close scrutiny of Carnimiriel and her advisor, especially after the appearance of the hauntingly accurate picture of her other self. It disturbed the woman greatly to think that not only had she been seen in the moment of her greatest weakness, but that it was a child - Lord Elbren's daughter - who had witnessed it, and was now drawn into the middle of this dangerous puzzle. She felt ill to think of the potential threats to them all if something went amiss.

Raising her head to look at the proud and beautiful lady standing before her, Nurvilya felt suddenly as though she could not refuse her request, no matter what might be unearthed from the far reaches of her mind. For somewhere inside the cool demeanor and calm, impassive voice of Elbren's wife, Nurvilya knew that there was a mother just like her own who was fighting to keep her daughter safe.

"Yes, milady, I understand what you must do." Nurvilya found that her voice was steady, and it calmed her nerves some. "I ask only that the things you may encounter remain silent, and among only those that must know. There are some things that I fear you will find, that I do not wish to live again."

The days soon blended into weeks as the two riders and the wolf pressed on towards Mirkwood and whatever awaited them there. Tallain had healed unusually quick from his wounds Rho had noted, and as they had traveled farther from Minas Tirith his spirits seem to be lifted a bit too.

They pressed their mounts hard during the day, but evenings by the fire allowed the two much time to talk. The Easterling confided more aspects of his gift to Rho, and though she didn?t understand it, she became more convinced that Elbren would know how to help her new friend, or at least he would know someone who could.

Finally the day came when the two crested a small grass covered hill, pulled up their mounts, and saw Mirkwood off in the distance. The Easterling and the Gondorian gazed off silently, almost reverently, towards the Great Wood, neither one wanting to spoil the splendor of the moment. But with their journey almost completed, Rho urged her mount on and Tallain dropped in behind her. Chirion kept up while loping along side and every once in a while he could be seen leaping some of the taller patches of grass.

Finally they arrived at the famed forest and made there way to the Mithril Knight Guild house. Once inside both were shown to their private quarters where baths were quickly prepared. When the two weary travelers had cleaned up and rested, a meal would be waiting for them both.

However, before the servant had departed her quarters, Rho enquired about Elbren and was informed that he had not yet arrived, though he was expected any day. The Mithril Knight smiled and nodded in appreciation then went over and laid down on the soft bed just as the servant departed her room.

The road to Mirkwood was a slow one; despite the fact that Elbren felt every sense of urgency that was now laid upon Middle Earth. They had to stop the Red Hammer. Push them back to the Iron Hills and beyond. Back to the East.

The Red Hammer still held the Silmaril for each evening Elbren watched anxiously for the Star of Earendil; and each night, his heart sank a little lower when the sky was again devoid of the treasure.

So, he and Erelas rode steadily, if without great speed, and it seemed the farther behind the Iron Hills fell, the less the desire for the Silmaril burned within the Elven Lord's mind. The Dark Champion would have delivered the message to the Red Hammer King by now. What would his reaction be, Elbren wondered, and where would it take the Red Hammer army in response?

It was late evening when Elbren finally reached the borders of Thranduil's kingdom and with an escort of Mirkwood warriors, he made his way to the Mirkwood Guild House. Erelas was taken to the stables where he would receive a well deserved rest, and the Guildmaster entered the Guild House suddenly feeling the weight of his days of travel upon him.

He had put little thought to how he must look, but the look upon Parador's face as they first saw each other made him think that she was seeing a ghost. Indeed, he had lost some weight, was pale, dirty, and within his eyes it looked as if a dangerous fever was just fading away. The two embraced in greeting.

"You look well," Elbren said slowly.

"And you," Parador eyed him closely, "do not. How did your search go?"

Elbren nodded and even chuckled a bit, "It went well. I have spoken to the Dark Champion and learned more about the Red Hammer. In fact, he has delivered a message to their King on our behalf. But, let me eat and make myself a bit more presentable and I shall tell the tale to you all. Edlund and the Galadrim are here?"

"Yes, as are others that, I think, you shall be glad to see. Nienor-Niniel and Anorast came with me, and Rholarowyn has arrived from the South--"

"Rholarowyn! Good!" Elbren truly seemed pleased, "and Elenath?"

"Not yet," Parador shook her head in response, "but scouts have received word from Dol Amroth that her escort was completed and they were coming to Mirkwood with all speed."

"Good...good..." Elbren rubbed his chin in thought, "so we muster for the assault and liberation of Erebor. How fares the North? Has Thranduil said?"

Parador's face changed expression, "There has been no word from the Erebor Guild house in nearly two weeks. Supply lines are cut off, the Mirkwood archers have been unable to break through the Red Hammer's defenses."

"No supplies have reached the North?" Elbren was clearly alarmed.

"No..."

"Then we must make haste....and prepare to break the Red Hammer line of defense."

"Elbren," Parador touched his arm lightly, "there has been no word from Tempest, Mirdain, or Idril. And the Silmaril is still absent from the sky."

"I know," Elbren's closed his eyes for a moment, "I, too, fear the worst."

"And...Arwen Sol is here....alone. Dirk...is not."

Elbren frowned deeply at this, "Where is Dirk?"

"We do not know."

"All news seems to be of ill fortune!" Elbren exclaimed and rubbed his eyes. "I must eat....and bathe...then we all shall meet. Call all Knights to the dining area in one hour, we shall share our news then. I must speak with Arwen Sol and find out where Dirk has gone. And as for Tempest and the others....I must see the Mural and try to interpret the signs."

"As you wish," Parador nodded.

"We must also Initiate all the Knights in Training that are here; all must go with us with the full knowledge of the power of this Guild. It may be the only way we are able to survive the onslaught of the Red Hammer."

"Rholarowyn has a....guest with her. You may want to see her before the meeting as well."

"Oh?" Elbren said as he turned and began to walk to his quarters. "Who is it?"

"An Easterling."

Elbren glanced sideways at his friend, "and why do you think I should see her before the meeting?"

"Just....just a feeling I have. And I have had dreams, Elbren....strange dreams. Nienor-Niniel also...." Parador hesitated, "she has some connection with the Sickle that....I don't know. You should speak to her."

"What is wrong with Nienor-Niniel?" Elbren asked as he opened the door to his room and entered, Parador still following him.

"Her hand was cut with the Sickle back in Orthanc and it has bled ever since, refusing to heal."

Elbren stopped, looking startled, "A wound that will not heal?"

"Yes," it was Parador's turn to frown, "what is it? Does this mean something?"

"Perhaps...an old song I once heard, long ago, while I was young back in Hollin," he seemed to be trying to remember and was soon even humming lowly, closing his eyes slightly. Then, the words came to him and he sang them:

In a tower of black rests the blade of hope

with edge of doom and rising smoke

the wound of suffering will always bleed

until the seal is broken in need

Silence entered the small chamber, save for the crackling fire, as Elbren and Parador stared at each other.

"That's strange," Parador finally said, "that song seems familiar to me as well."

"I had quite forgotten it," Elbren replied, sitting down wearily, "I am not even sure where I first heard it or from whom."

"It seems that we should find out."

"It seems," Elbren sighed, "that we are always chasing riddles."

"That it does, and I think we have more to add to the puzzle," Parador nodded, "wait until I tell you what I have dreamt."

"Well," Elbren nodded, "you may as well tell me now...."

As the sun set in the distance over the misty mountains, the little band of riders made their camp. Tired from a hard days ride. They rejoiced in the chance to eat and drink, to wash away the dust from their parched throats.

The trek north was one they are trying to make as quickly as possible.

As they made camp, Vana sought out wood for the fire as Bryttar watered the horses and Alandriel made ready for the cooking. Walking about the camp area Vana could still see in the terrain in the waning light. A harsh wasteland to the east, with the Anduin on the west. She recognised the area as one she had passed going on her quest to become a Mithril Knight some months before. Everything looked the same except for the missing Star of Earendil.

The wood was scarce but there was enough to cook by. Vana started to hum to herself as she was gathering the wood and sticks that she could find.

Though the melody was simple and it was merely a childs tune, it lifted her spirits as she worked. She then brought the wood to where Alandriel had made ready for it. Alandriel quickly got the fire started and smiled as she listened to Vana's humming. Bryttar soon walked up to the fireside and sat watching the flames. The dancing of the flames sparkled in the eyes of the three as they sat there with only the sound of Vana's humming. Each lost in their own thoughts entanced by the flames. Elenath had joined them but had remained silent as well.

After a while Elenaths eyes searched the stars for some sign of what she was seeking, Vana cleared her thoat to speak.

"We should be in Mirkwood by tomorrow night if I recognise the area correctly." she looked over to the Lady Elenath to see if she would respond. Elenath nodded but didnt say a word. Vana then looked to Bryttar and Alandriel who smiled at her.

The dinner that night was not much but it filled the belly and soon they were all settling into their bed rolls. Vana lay on her back for a while with her arms behind her head as she stared up at the night sky. Why or how could the Star of Earendil be taken from the heavens? What did this have to do with what their next mission would be? Watching still but lost in thought Vana saw a shooting star brighter then she had ever remembered seeing there. The moon round and full shone out through the clouds that lazily passed by. Finally she rolled over to her side and closed her eyes to rest.

Away from Lorien, they had ridden barely a full day and night when Sir. Dirk had suddenly wheeled Endl—m‘ around, halting directly in her path. Arwen had had to hold the reins firm so as not to be pitched from her own mount who had been startled by her mentor's precipitous movement. Leaning low over the Nimw‘'s neck, Arwen spoke soothingly to the agitated animal, nonsensical words falling mellifluous from her lips.

She looked up, only to find herself falling into Sir. Dirk's fathomless gaze, a quick-silver shiver of apprehension slithered down her spine to settle in her gut. And she pressed a shaking hand to her stomach, trying to quell the sudden roiling nausea that had taken hold of her. His face and voice were impassive when he finally spoke, his voice falling like arrows in the sudden consuming silence.

"You must go to Mirkwood," he stated flatly, his eyes scanning the horizon absently as if contemplating her destination. "It is not in me to ask you to fight this battle, though I have no doubt you would do so readily if I asked it of you..." and he looked into her eyes now, as if sensing the self-doubt that had emerged in her mind at his words, "Do not disbelieve my faith in you, but now our journeys must take is down different paths and if mine must end in Erebor, I would have yours go on... do you understand?"

Arwen nodded, her jewel-toned eyes dulled as she stared resolutely at the dust on her boots. She knew she was acting like a petulant child but she understood not why her mentor... a man she had come to regard as friend, would put her away from him. Especially when her presence could only be as another champion in their fight for the free world. The only explanation that came to her distraught mind was that he did not trust her abilities as a warrior and saw her only as a weight pulling him down.

Lost in her own heavy thoughts, she had forgotten the source of her distress. It wasn't until Sir.Dirk lifted her chin with his finger that Arwen looked into his eyes, seeing the compassion there she longed to fall into tears as she had done so long ago in her mother's arms. But she had lived many centuries, and despite the candid innocence that characterized her, she had not been that child for a long time.

With a nod of understanding- thought not of acceptance, Arwen clasped his arm firmly in her own, "Varda light your way," she gave the farewell solemnly.

"And yours as well, my lady," Sir. Dirk replied equally.

All the supplies that they needed were on their own mounts, so there was no need to fuss in their departure. With a final nod, the Mithril Knight turned his horse, and spurred it onward toward the skyline. They would meet again. Her keen elf-eyes shaded against the sun, Arwen watched her mentor disappear down his own lonely path, and once the dust had settled on his trail, she turned to go down her own destined road.

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

The peredhel made swift time, they had been close enough to both Mirkwood and Erebor that they might have reached their separate destinations simultaneously. Reaching the stables, Arwen removed the all but full travelling rations from her saddle. Since her parting with Sir.Dirk, she'd had neither the desire nor will to feed her body, though she'd taken care to maintain Nimw‘'s strenght on their trek. Patiently, Arwen rubbed down her mount and settled her in a big empty stall with enough feed to last a sennight.

Then shouldering her leather packs as well as her various weapons, Arwen guided herself through the woods and toward the GuildHouse. Feeling questing eyes upon her, the peredhel turned subtly, letting her long black tressed hide her gaze as she looked toward the source of that stare. It was the Lady Parador, whom Arwen recognized at once from their brief meeting at Isengard. The peredhel remembered the Knight fondly though any feelings of amity were compressed by the permeating issue of Sir.Dirk's absence.

Thus, Arwen did not greet the Lady as was probably her duty as a Knight-in-Training under their allied Guild, but made her way past the GuildHouse... the place with its people and ways yet unknown to her and without her Mentor to guide her. That in itself would cause speculation and Arwen had no stomach tonight for being the object of such scrutiny.

Advised by memory, Arwen sought the domain of her beloved cousin Gilraen, with whom she'd spent her happy girlhood years, always under the watchful eye of her mother's brother, the Lord Valandil Minyatur. It was he who had taught her the first use of bow and arrow and watched proudly as she'd trained herself to be esteemed among many archers.

Knocking surreptitiously on the door, Arwen held back... it had been nigh onto a century since she had last seen her cousin. Was she even welcome there anymore? Wiping the dust from her travel clothes and straightening her hair to make herself more presentable... but Arwen didn't have to worry as a pale slender body hurled itself into her. Gilraen's laughter rang like bells upon the treetops and Arwen could not help but laugh at the imagined sight of two grown elvish maids lying in a giggling heap in the doorway.

Wiping, the silver blonde hair from her face, Gilraen took in the sight of her long-lost cousin. Neither of them had aged a whit since their last farewell, for all that Arwen was half mortal, the years had been kind to her. But it was the peredhel's eyes more than anything that told her cousin she had aged significantly- seen much since their whimsical childhood. Perceptive of her cousin's weariness, Gilraen lifted them both and practically dragged Arwen within the familiar yet unfamiliar rooms.

Calling for a warm bath to be brought to her room, Gilraen continued to help Arwen undress and release the black coils of hair from its messy, half-undone braids. Handing the other an airy flowing robe, Gilraen directed the assembly of the bath as Arwen lay prostrate on the soft bed. Once that was done, Gilraen added flowers and herbs to the steaming water, filling the room with the pleasant scent of a wild grove.

Sitting on the bed beside her cousin, the bed hardly bending at all under her insubstantial weight, Gilraen smoothed the ebony tresses from Arwen's brow. "Your bath is ready cousin, I shall leave you to it." She got up as Arwen smiled her thanks at her beloved friend, "Take your time, dear. After you have made your preparations, they wish to see all Knights and those in training in the main hall to sup."

With a trembling hand, Arwen waved her cousin away, but Gilraen's gray eyes twinkled conspiratorily as she imparted her full message, "It seems there's to be some sort of induction ceremony tonight! Don't worry, I'll give you something appropriate to wear," she finished, referring to Arwen's lack of ceremonial garb and flew out the door before Arwen could question her about this sudden revelation.

Her thoughts turned back unerringly to Sir.Dirk. Had he known that this was going to happen and had not wanted her to miss the ceremony? Arwen felt a pang of torment, even now Sir.Dirk might be fighting for his life and she was not by his side as she had sworn to be when she had taken on the mantle of being his apprentice. What use had she for a meaningless ceremony? Especially after eschewing those vows before she'd even taken them. Holding back the convulsive cries that wracked her body, Arwen shook back and forth desparingly.

What would happen now? How would she explain this to the GuildMaster and other's who cared for Sir.Dirk? Would they blame her for this? Questions assailed her, ramming against her fragile hold onto sanity, but her own doubts were stronger than any denial and fear broke through, sending her into an enfulfing blackness and temporary reprieve. But not before the final question resounded within those depths:

Had she failed before she had even begun?

Tallain did not quite remember how long ago it had been since he had enjoyed a journey this much.

As he lay in the comfortable bed in the Mithril Knight headquarters in Mirkwood, he was relaxed enough to be able to examine in detail the furnishings, the elven touch to the tapestries in the room and the fine details of the carvings on his bed.

His mind wandered back to the journey he had undertaken with Rho, which had in such a relatively short time brought him to this mysterious and stunning elven stronghold.

Only in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would come here, to one of the centres of elven power in Middle Earth.

And what an incredible voyage they had, riding hard by day, sleeping under the stars or occasionally, when the weather was particularly bad, in a small inn by the wayside.

Over campfires he had recounted, at Rho?s interested request, many insights into his childhood ? the liberal upbringing in his father?s house, the love and cherishment he had always felt for his mother and sister, the slow realisation that he did not fit in with the Eastron way of life, that he would never be a governor of men in the way his father was, that he did not relish battle or vengeance in the same way as his older siblings.

He told her of his abilities, of the way he could sense other people?s feelings, of how it could help him in a fight, or in a potentially dangerous situation and also of how many times, it had almost cost him his life, leading him to act in a rash way to the eyes of others and only proving his point after the event that he could see was going to happen, had taken place.

?Sometimes I see it not as a gift, but as a curse. Few wish to know that someone can read their intentions, their feelings. Few also trust you once you have made this ability known,? he said, his hazel eyes liquid and haunted in remembrance.

Rho had shown herself to be an astute and caring listener. She had never once judged or behaved any differently towards him even after he had told her about his empathic abilities. She had also questioned him many times of his vision, which had occasionally revisited him, always leaving him troubled and waking up in cold sweats.

And they had talked about the order to which she belonged, the Mithril Knights. Tallain had been greatly impressed by her tales of knightly valour, of their protection of all that is good and well in the lands. He had wished, deep in his heart, that he would one day be considered worthy enough to join such an order, and then the reality of his heritage crashed down upon him, and he had chided himself for such thoughts. Of course such a noble body of knights, with chivalrous words and deeds would not consider an Easterling vagabond, however nobly born, to be of interest. Rho had been gracious and thoughtful to take him with her, and she was obviously concerned at his visions, but nothing more.

He relived and savoured the memory of the first view of Mirkwood ? the sun was just creeping up over a chill morning, casting soft rays of light into the mist as it shrouded the dark, brooding trees that dominated the view. Vento had tossed his head, eager to be off, and more than once Tallain had laughed out loud as they cantered up and down the trails, at the speed and agility of his mount. He had patted his horse?s neck, ?Its ok, we will be off soon?, he had whispered, and then Rho, with a gleam in her eyes, had set their pace hard as they headed for the great forest.

Once there, Rho had made her way unerringly to a large building that she had murmured to him as being the Knights? headquarters in Mirkwood.

Although eyebrows had been raised at his admittance, Rho had allowed no questioning and she was obviously held in high regard.

Tallain had been shown courteously to his chambers, and there he was now resting, his tired but busy mind wandering over the events of the past weeks, remembering .. thinking .. feeling.

As his eyes closed, the Easterling felt his consciousness slip. Soon he was within that strange land, neither waking nor sleeping, where dreams were made real. As he looked around him, he could see a vast forest, stretching as far as the eyes could see, and in the distance a tall and imposing mountain. But beyond it, to the east, the dark, choking cloud of evil and filth began to extend its tendrils to the mountain, pulling down chunks of earth and sending is lofty presence crashing to the ground. In anger Tallain hand went to his sword, but it was not there, and in despair he sent out all the pain all the anger and all the frustration that he could feel ? now he was one with the evil, could smell its corruption stinging in his nostrils, the scent turned his stomach and he wanted to scream, to get away. He could hear the sound of marching, of chanting, or crude voices, and sounds of battle, and then he was tumbling, over and over, into the middle of a battle .. and before he was pulled away from his dream, he saw a hand, holding a bright starlike jewel, swinging it this way and that, in hypnotic brilliance.

Tallain sat up in the bed, his eyes wide and staring, his clothing soaked with sweat.

He had to tell Rho .. this was a new dream, a new vision.

Caranthir paused as he took in the scene before him. It was all as he had expected it to be, except for the presence of two elves wearing the cloaks of the Mithril Knights. He scanned the hall quickly, but there was no sign of the woman he had fought earlier. He realized that he was keenly disappointed by the fact, but he did not have time to dwell on it, for already he could see the icy determination in the eyes of the two Mithril Knights who stood guarding the door to the treasury.

"Caranthir," Mirdain said through clenched teeth.

"Do not attempt to stop us," Caranthir said, brandishing his sword and waving it threateningly at them. "You will only fail."

"You shall not succeed in stealing the Silmaril. And you shall not succeed in altering the future," Mirdain said firmly. "The curse of Feanor is upon you."

"Aye, and so is my father's strength of spirit. The Silmaril is mine by oath and blood, and neither you, nor your pathetic Guild can stop us. I am Caranthir the Dark, son of Feanor, the High King of the Noldor. Do not stand in my way, for I will not be denied!"

______________________________________________________________________

Tempest was aware of a pain she had not experienced in previous journeys into the Mural as she awoke alone in the Mural room. She was icy cold and shaking, which she immedietly attributed to the fact that she was no good at all at this mural traveling, especially when she had to use 'magic' herself. After all, she never remembered feeling this bad when Elbren would bring her back from the Mural.

Suddenly, she realized that she was surrounded by heavy darkness, and an even heavier silence. Her first thought was that she had done the signature for the Mirkwood guildhouse incorrectly, and was thus lost in the currents of Time. In her panic, she pushed herself off the ground and ran straight into the wall, which happened to have the Mural stretched out upon it. Tempest ran her hands over the wall and quickly realized that she was, indeed, in Mirkwood. Apparently no one had bothered to leave a torch for them on their return.

After bumping into several different objects and breaking two or three flasks of something that didn't smell very nice, she managed to light a candle and become more familiar with her surroundings. She immedietly saw that Mirdain and Idril had not returned yet, and it was with a heavy heart that she lifted the candle higher to get a better view of the Mural.

She was only confused by what she saw, for she was not skilled in the reading of such things, and the Mural did not make sense to her. Still, she cursed herself for not staying in Menegroth and finding Mirdain and Idril before leaving. They probably needed her right now! Caranthir was most likely trying to storm the gates of the treasury, and there was now no way she could help defend it.

Tempest slammed her fist against the Mural, cursing herself for abandoning her friends, cursing the dwarves for their greed, cursing the Silmaril, and most of all, cursing Feanor and his sons for all the chaos they had caused.

"Please, please..." she murmured, after her fury was spent and she had run out of curses. "Please let them be all right...Idril, Mirdain, come back....Come back!"

Elenath and the three trainees rose early in the morning, eager to finally reach their destination. They reached the woods before nightfall, as Vanaladiel had predicted, and were met by a band of scouts. Two of the elves left their group, and escorted the group to the Knights' Guild House. Darkness was falling by the time they reached it, and as she had every night, Elenath searched the stars in vain.

The travellers were welcomed, and shown to rooms. The three trainees disappeared into them, clearly eager to rest and refresh themselves. Elenath turned to their guide.

"Is Lord Elbren here?"

"Yes, he arrived here a short time ago. I believe he is with Lady Parador at the moment."

"Will you let him know that we have arrived? And if he wishes to speak with me, I will be available immediately."

Elenath was left alone in her room. But instead of resting, she paced restlessly. She was eager to speak with Elbren, and learn more of what was happening. Every day that the Star of Earendil was missing from the sky, she grew more anxious, more unsettled. The Star had always been a guiding light for her, ever since it first appeared. It had been a sign of hope then, a salve for the grief of losing Earendil and Elwing. As she paced, Elenath's mind went back to the time when Earendil had sailed the seas, when she had beheld the Silmaril before it was lifted into the skies. The Silmaril... her thoughts of those jewels were always tangled between love of their beauty, and hatred of what they had incited. Immersed in disquietiing thoughts and memories, Elenath paced, and waited.

As they approached the edge of the great greenwoods, Vana's heart started racing at the thoughts of being home and how glad that made her.

She was anxious to get word to her uncle of their return so when she could, she spoke with an elf of the scout's ranks and asked that he get word to King Thranduil that his niece had returned with the Mithril Knights to the guild house there. The herald hurried off to give word to the King.

Then the small company moved on into the woods to the guild house. It was getting fairly dark as they finally reached their destination and dismounted. A group of young groomers took the horses of the company to groom them as well as water and feed them before bedding them down for the night.

The Lady Elenath led the three trainees as she marched up to the guild house door and knocked on its heavy brass knob. After but a few moments the doors opened and the warmth from within was felt by all. It was a welcoming feeling like coming home after a long trip.

Lady Elenath watched as each of the trainees was escorted to their rooms then she was led to her room last where she sent out word to the Lord Elbren.

When Vana closed the door of her room she looked and was amazed at all the detail that was placed into the furnishings. Surely they were all elven made. The Runes danced within the designs engraved on the wooden posts of the bed and the trim about the bed boards was inlayed with gold. The tables were of the same craftsmanship. The legs intricate designs of a simular fashion. With gold handles and inlay about the top. The golden candle holders were of a twisted vine with leaves laced with delicate flowers. The candles themselves were elven made with Mallorn leaves within to give off a special scent that would relax the weariest of travelers bringing peace to the mind and soul. Vana was used to such things in her rooms in the palace but to find them there was more then she had ever imagined.

When she finally got her thoughts together she went to the wardrobe and opened it to find not only finely made elven gowns but HER gowns. They must have known or her uncle must have sent them. Had he known she was coming back?

Before she could even think of calling for water to cleanse herself a knock came upon her door. As she answered it a gentle woman stood without and informed her that she would draw her a bath should she desire it. Vana grinned.

"Of course I would love a bath, thank you!" Vana thought about how a bath would be most welcome after the hard journey they had just come off of. So the woman bowed and ushered in a tub, placed a screen about it and the servants started bringing in water to fill the basin.

After they completed there trips of water the kindly woman placed some special flowers and herbs within the steaming water and then she offered to help Vana to get out of her traveling garments. She skillfully helped Vana with her lacings and all then excused herself while Vana bathed.

Settling back into the hot water and herbs with flowers Vana remembered what it had been like to be pampered at all times in this fashion. No she didnt long for it to be a regular things for that seemed to irritate her to have others treat her in that fashion. She had always wanted to be accepted for who she was inside not her standing in the house of the King.

She started seeing herself at play in the gardens of the palace and the hills and woods about. The games she played with the other children and running off to swim alone in the lakes and ponds that she found hidden about the forest. The laughter of a child at play and the smiling faces of those around her......

Suddenly Vana jerked up as she realized she had drifted off to sleep. The knocking on the door sounded again. The sound jarred her from her sleep.

"Come in!" Vana called as she reached for a towel.

The woman reappeared speaking as she came.

"Can I pull your gown out for you to wear to dinner your highness?"

Vana quickly came from behind the screen.

"No...." she almost shouted, "Please I can get that for myself, and please dont call me that here! I am just one of the Mithril Knights in training. Please you dont have to wait on me hand and foot. I am a grown woman and can take care of myself. But thank you so much for offering."

The woman looked a bit shocked at the refusal to help but bowed and left the room at Vana's insistance.

Vana quickly then tore open the wardrobe again to decide what she should wear to dinner with the company. As she pulled gown after gown out she threw them on the bed.

"No that wont do!" she muttered, "Nope not that one either."

Finally she just dropped them all and decided to grab out her clean breeches and a soft tunic that was still in her bags. She then dressed quickly and brushed out her blonde locks and braided them back. After looking in a mirror she decided she looked presentable but not too fancy. Just one of the knights she told herself.

Ten paces from bed to desk. Six paces from desk to door. Counting steps was the only way to bring some semblance of order to the turmoil raging in Alandriel?s mind.

Soft moonlight filtered through the intricate lattice work partially obscured by evergreen vines. But as she reached above the small table to open the window she paid no heed to its masterful workmanship or to the velvety touch of the deep green leaves that briefly caressed her hand. Cool night air flooded the room, dispelling the last remnants of moisture from a bathtub that had run cold. Alandriel shivered violently yet failed to reach for her cloak that one of the servants had so carefully draped over one of the massive bedpost. The silver brooch threw sparks of light on the white washed walls as she turned it absentmindedly in her hands.

So many questions ? so few answers!

Ten paces to the bed.

The Eket.

Tucking the brooch away she reverently took hold of the slightly curved scabbard, carefully balancing it for a few moments in her hand. With her jaws set, the ranger took firm hold of the hilt studded with red jewels and slowly unsheathed the ancient NumŽnorean blade. It glinted with its habitual icy blue tint as she held it up high to examine its stunning, complicated damascening once more. By now familiar feelings of power and the certainty of inevitable foreordination flooded through her; and although, as usual, there were no answers forthcoming as to the nature of her connection to this weapon, she felt somehow strangely comforted. This was part of her destiny.

What was her destiny? And just how was it interlinked with the Mithril Knights?

With a sharp ?clang? she re-sheathed the short sword and put it back next to the silken pillow from whence she had taken it just moments ago.

Ten paces to the window ? ten paces back.

The Mithril Knights.

An order of high code and valour. Mostly comprised of elves and half-elves as she had discerned from Lady Elenath?s infrequent explanations. A secretive guild led by a Sindarin Eldar, Elbren, a high lord she was to meet for the first time on the morrow.

What was she, a mere mortal, doing here, meddling in the affairs of the Quendi?

The sarcastic chuckle rising in her throat was suddenly stilled by the tinkling of delighted laughter drifting through the open window. The merry sound made her lips curl wistfully and she sighed: Vana. How excited and joyous the peredhel had been to return to Mirkwood - and rightly so. To be able to call a place home, to have a caring family, even friends - what comfort that must be. Alandriel knew nothing of it.

Six paces to the door.

Yet there were mortals amongst the Knights. Bryttar would be counted amongst them soon as well.

She stared at the carved door. Where had he been taken? She remembered. Hours ago, when the small party of trainees had been led to their quarters the Rohirrim had been escorted further down the torch lit hall. Alandriel had seen him disappear down a different corridor, ushered on by one of the guards. Was it that men were lodged in separate wings from the women? Or was it because his cousin had sent for him? Yes, Rholarowyn was the only other without eldar blood she knew to be one of the order. The Gondorian should have arrived before them despite the fact that Lady Elenath had agreed to risk the potentially perilous shortcut; a journey that had gone well without any mishap.

Maybe if she spoke to Rho

.. The down to earth shield maiden had always had a way to set her mind at ease. Talk about having to go through an initiation ritual in order to join the guild had further unsettled the ranger some days ago. Yet although she had gently probed for details, Lady Elenath had declined any further information saying that all would be revealed in due time.

Gently she opened the door.

The small draft issuing forth from her chamber made the torches in the hallway flicker. Silently her soft soled boots padded down the deserted corridor. Soon she came upon an intersecting hallway and stopped, looking down both directions, wondering. And then she froze.

What was he doing here? Had Rho taken him all the way to Mirkwood? What on Middle-Earth for?

She saw the familiar frame of the Easterling close his door noiselessly. For a moment he hesitated and then turned, away from the ranger, striding down the other end of the passage. Faint mutterings hit her highly alerted senses as he turned a far corner and walked out of her sight. Alandriel relaxed. He had not seen her. But from his murmurings she had discerned that Tallain also was on his way to seek the shield maiden.

Turning heel, she walked back to her chamber and sat down on the soft bed, burying her face in her hands.

When the first faint streaks of early morning light broke the dark skyline she finally rose. With a deep sigh she walked over to the tub. The many liberal splashings of cold water went a long way to drive out the many shadows that had beseeched her these many long, weary hours. Yet the dark circles under her eyes would announce the fact to any but the blind that she had spent yet another sleepless night.

Morning was arriving. She would be called on soon. With a crooked smile she disregarded the gorgeous gown that hung off a hook next to the washstand and instead reached for a set of soft leggings and a tunic very similar to her normal garb. ?How thoughtful?, she mused as she pulled the laces tight, ?they know a whole lot more about me apparently than I know about them.?

And then she stood, gazing out of the window, awaiting her summons.

It was more than unusually dark without when Arwen awoke, the growing shadows reminding her of the vanished Evening Star. Fervently she prayed that it would return to its rightful place in the sky so that order, however temporary, could be restored. Feeling a wetness on her face she reached up in surprise, bringing her hand down to see what was causing the sensation.

Tears... she had not shed any in countless years she realized, and it perplexed her as much as it would have anyone else she'd known, to see them there.

Weeping was pointless, that is what she?d learned after leaving childhood behind, especially when there was no one there to wipe the sorrows away. Getting off the bed, Arwen tried to smooth out the dressing gown she?d inadvertently fallen asleep in, but it was hopelessly wrinkled and she had nothing else to wear since Gilraen had removed all her own clothes. Moving toward the door to ask for some decent garb, she caught sight of her forgotten bath.

Arwen looked blankly into the now tepid water, her face inscrutable as she studied her reflection therein. The dark scattered petals that Gilraen had thrown in earlier bobbed persistently to the surface, as if fighting for air -away from the water's fathomless depths and scattered her reflection in desultory ripples. Almost dully she reminded herself that she still had to meet with the Guild members that night, it had been Sir.Dirk's request, and as such she could not ignore it.

Stripping off the rumpled mantle, she stepped gingerly into the chilled water, bumps rising on her skin at contact with such gelidity. On a held breath, Arwen forced herself to immerse completely. It wasn't so bad, once one got used to it... and besides it was no different from bathing in a river or stream. However, she did not wish to tarry in the rapidly chilling temperature, thus grabbing up the small wash-cloth and scented cake of soap, she briskly washed off the stains of her travel.

She'd just gotten out and managed to wrap a fresh towel around herself when Gilraen tapped on the door and entered. Arwen rolled her eyes, her cousin had never learned the finer points of privacy... but it had never been needed between them either. The willowy blonde was much more subdued this meeting, and Arwen regretted passing on her own air of melancholy onto her cousin. But whatever the cause, Gilraen's delight could not be suppressed for long.

Opening the door wider, she indicated impatiently as three young women entered, their pale arms laden with a kaleidoscope of gowns in different jeweled colours and fabrics. Arwen raised her eyebrows in exasperation at the extravagance , if she left things to Gilraen she would end up dressed for the Elvish-High Court instead of a somber meeting of Knights. With a haughtiness bred into her as a daughter of Kings, Gilraen dismissed her ladies before trying to convince Arwen.

"Please..." Gilraen pleaded prettily, though the mischievous slash of her mouth belied the earnestness in her eyes. "It has been ages since I've had the chance to dress you up... don't you remember?" she asked softly.

Embracing the blonde, Arwen smiled kindly, "Of course, you know I shall never forget --- not after the trouble we got into, dressing in your mother's fine clothes!" They broke into peals of laughter, remembering that idyllic day. But Arwen's face grew somber again all too soon, "But I do not know what welcome I will receive at the Guild once Master Elbren has learned that I abandoned my mentor, and I would rather be clothed in dignity than any fine material

? her worried emerald eyes searched her cousin's candid gaze for the intrinsic acceptance that had always been part of their kinship.

"Ofcourse, dear heart." Rummaging through the piles of prismatic silks and velvets, Gilraen found what she'd been looking for. She withdrew a pale cream linen dress, its collar elegantly embroidered in shades of amber and viridian. The substantial sleeves concealed a long slit up to the inner arm and affixed amber cords to tie them back, leaving the arms free for movement. Slipping behind the screen, Arwen shook off the towel and put on the soft-worn dress.

"Well, let's see how it looks!" Gilraen ordered impatiently and Arwen stepped almost shyly into the light. The dress molded to her form perfectly and with her long sable mane falling damply to her waist, she seemed a symbol of grace and strength. "Hmmm... it still needs something," Gilraen declared, foraging about again, she triumphantly held out a burnished gold belt, made of round disks linked together. Each disk was studded with a small emerald in its center and it matched the dress perfectly.

Holding out her arms patiently, Arwen allowed Gilraen to sling the belt around her slim waist so that it hung just below her navel. Standing back, Gilraen looked pensive as she admired her handiwork. Under perusal, Arwen absently ran her hands over the cool metal noting that there was a link from which a scabbard could be hung.

She didn't know when the decision came to her, but appear it did and resolutely Arwen picked up the twin swords, tethering them in place at her left hip. A sense of completeness filled her--- the knowledge that what she was doing was the right thing, though the outcome seemed bleak.

When she turned back, Gilraen's fair face showed awe, but her eyes were shadowed with worry. In centuries she had never seen her cousin act thus, yet she was not a Daughter of the Eldar for nothing and with a sense of premonition, Gilraen reached out to lay her hand on her cousin's cheek. When she spoke, her voice was seemed to echo with a timeless wisdom.

"Hauta, Arwen, an ilya n‡uva m‡ra, muinthel o indonya." Take rest, Arwen, for all shall be well, sister of my heart.

Emotion filled both women and they embraced. Arwen's voice was steady when she spoke, "No matter the outcome of this nights affairs, I shall see you before I leave, melda beloved" Nodding in understanding, Gilraen watched in stillness as her raven-haired kinswoman strode nobly down the steps and melted into the shadows of the forest.

?The dreams...and at other times, visions...for they come to me during the day as well...paid me my first visit while in Isengard with Thalos. In fact...the Dwarven lord was there, and he knew he was there?

Elbren raised an eye listening intently and thinking what the connection could be to the Red Hammer, if any at all...but why now? These dreams, visions...why now all of a sudden does Parador start having them?

?Elbren?...Parador spoke with a seriousness that made the guild master?s attention become even more keen to what she was saying...?The last time I was in Isengard or even in Gondor..I was but a young child...five years of Arda?s ages. It was then that I was taken away unexpectedly to Mithlond?

Parador continue to speak, looking past Elbren?s eyes...as if searching the past for help in explaining the visions she was having...Elbren continued to listen without any movement on his part...afraid if he moved...it would break the train of thought his friend was traveling on...

?Traveling with me was a jewel...the Sun Stone Anar. It was given to me by my mother?s sister before I was taken away...the jewel was a family heirloom used for protection and for other devices that I was told I would learn more about at a later time...when I would be able to grasp the magnitude of its power.?

?But, that night, while in the Tower of Orthanc, in a secret room...I witnessed a passage of time back to the Third Age...Saruman stood before me yet he could not sense my presence...though, Thalos could?...Parador furrowed her eyebrows as she spoke...not understanding fully why Thalos could see her and not Saruman...

?Saruman took a container of curious workmanship from behind a hidden panel and placed it before him on a table for all to see. I say ?All? for there was another who stood before me on the steps leading to the room...he too could not detect my presence...again, only Thalos could.

The words that Parador spoke next gave Elbren a chill...a sense of ...disbelief...

? This Istari wizard?s greed for power and control of the whole of it, took him to the River Anduin some 900 years ago...there, hidden deep in the rivers depths...lay the bones of a lost soul...Isildur?s remains!?

Elbren shuttered and then stood...turning to Parador with a fixed stare...?Are you to tell me next that Saruman took Isildur?s bones??...Elbren need not hear her response...he already knew the answer...

?He has kept them for all these hundreds of years in safe hiding and for a purpose Elbren...he means to use them in a most powerful way...and I know not how...yet?...the Mithril Knight spoke through clinched teeth

?What does this have to do with the Red Hammer??...spoke Elbren while deep in thought...what devilry was Saruman up to...

?I don?t think there is a connection Elbren...at least not to the Red Hammer...I think he is using it as a sort of back-up plan...in case his first plan fails?

?But how...why Isildur?s remains??

Standing at the entrance of Elbren?s quarters stood a very exhausted and wild eyed Tempest...somehow she made her way to Elbren's room...she took on a look of shock...her face was ashen...more puzzles thought Elbren as he reach to steady his old friend...?he has plans to come back?...spoke Tempest quietly without emotion and as a matter-of-fact tone...?and will not take no for an answer?

Parador reached for Tempest?s other side as she helped Elbren bring her to the couch...Tempest sank deep into its large cushions taking comfort for the first time since she left through the Lothl—rien guild house mural...without a chance for Tempest to speak, both Elbren and Parador spoke in unison asking where Idril and Mirdain were at...and then broke off quickly eyeing each in surprise at their timing in thought...

Tempest paled as she spoke while slowly clinching her fists...?I do not know'...Tempest's eyes watered...feeling the pain of leaving behind her friends was too much to bear...

Parador had more to tell Elbren...but it would wait...Tempest was in need of her friend's support...and...they now were in need of finding Idril and Mirdain...the Mural held the key and only Elbren could read the writing on the wall...pictures to be exact...as to where they were and how to get them out...

And too, there were still the initiations to attend to...they needed the strength of new knights to the order...strength in number...strength in talent and gifts...strength in power to pull away the blanket of evil that was slowly covering Middle-earth once again...

Indeed...evil never sleeps...it only finds a place to hide each time it is defeated...as its conjurer awaits for a better time and place to prove its power taking with it the souls of men, elves and dwarven kind...happiness is its own darkness without a conscience...voided of any mercey or pity...

"I should not have left them! I should have stayed!" Tempest repeated again in her exhaustion. "If they are killed, I shall never forgive myself. But there wasn't time! The dwarves were nearly upon me!"

"Calm down," Elbren ordered. "Drink this, it will help your mind to clear."

Tempest pushed the glass away. "I don't want my mind to clear!" she snapped, but then she covered her face with her hands and sat in silence for several minutes.

"I should not have left them," she said again, in a softer voice.

"What happened? Where is the Silmaril?"

"It was Caranthir, Feanor's dark son. He was there. He was trying to steal the Silmaril. I fear....I fear he might succeed. There was no time!" She spread out her hands before them as if she were pleading for mercy. "The only satisfaction I have is that I stumbled upon the treacherous knight who escaped from us recently. He and his counterpart will bother us no more."

"It was Caranthir, Feanor's dark son. He was there. He was trying to steal the Silmaril. I fear....I fear he might succeed. There was no time!" She spread out her hands before them as if she were pleading for mercy. "The only satisfaction I have is that I stumbled upon the treacherous knight who escaped from us recently. He and his counterpart will bother us no more."

Elbren was surprised at the dark laughter that rolled within his chest at Tempest's declaration. Parador raised an eyebrow at her friend as the laughter escaped his lips; and even Tempest uncovered her face to study Elbren's stance.

"Good," he said quickly, ignoring the looks of the two women, but then he sat down again and sighed, "we must trust to Mirdain and Idril then." He looked to Parador, "I cannot send anymore into the currents at this time....the risks are too great."

Or is it moreso that the Silmaril is still here, in this Age, and you yet wish to recover it for yourself? A voice from within Elbren's mind taunted him.

"No," Elbren answered firmly, which only made his two companions stare at him with even more doubts.

"What?" Tempest asked irritably.

"I cannot risk it, not yet..." he continued, "and there is no time. Yes..we must trust to Mirdain and Idril."

"Our trust is well founded," Parador smiled, "they will succeed."

"There is much that depends upon it," Elbren nodded, "including the message from the Guild to the Red Hammer King."

"Oh?" Tempest leaned forward, still watching Elbren with something between amusement and disbelief.

"The Dark Champion will have now delivered a message from the Mithril Knights to the Red Hammer King. I have told him that we have the power over the past, not the Knights of the Silmaril. To prove it, I have told him that whatever the Knights have promised or gifted to him will disappear. It is my belief, and that of the Dark Champion, that the Red Hammer and the Knights of the Silmaril have a loose alliance based on the Nauglimir...it is the only logical explanation I could come up with," Elbren shrugged.

"If there is any logic to it," Tempest scowled, "seems to me that this is all about lust for pretty jewels." Her tone was one of extreme distaste, "Dwarves and Elves cannot seem to move past these things of beauty. How long have we been fighting this particular battle, anyhow?"

Elbren's eyes snapped to meet Tempest's and he had harsh words on his tongue, but then he checked himself. She was right. So very right. How long HAD they been fighting this battle over the Silmarils? Hadn't the world already been broken once...twice...how many times...over these objects of beauty?

"You," Elbren said instead, covering Tempest's hands with his own, "are so very right. They are a curse to us all." He stood and smoothed his tunic, "and it's time that we put it to rest for as long as we can. I am going to look at the mural and then prepare for the initiation of our new Knights in Training. Have everyone meet me in the dining hall in half an hour," Elbren paused, as if listening, and then said, "have them all come, the Easterling as well."

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

A note was sent to all of the Mithril Knights and Knights in Training with instructions to meet at the Mithril Knight Guild House dining hall...the Guild Master would be attending and it was of the utmost importance...

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

Elbren stood before the Mural in the Chamber, with all torches and lanterns burning, and incense filling the room with a sweet, distant aroma. He had bathed and changed into a simple, dark robe, belted with a ring of silver leaves, a dagger his only accompaniment. He had not yet eaten, and would not, he thought, until after the Initiations. He sensed something very powerful about to occur for the Mural itself seemed to be in constant motion, a slow, steady course of energy that made the room feel as if it were a ship on the sea. Elbren had not gone into a deep meditation in some time, and he now felt the need to glimpse into the Currents without actually entering them...

On the ceiling of the Chamber, the Sickle was burning brightly...almost humming with energy. Settling himself beneath the constellation, he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, willing his spirit to leave his body and seek Idril and Mirdain...

The Rohirrim had been relaxing in his room for almost an hour when a quick knock on the door forced his thoughts back to the present. There had been many strange things that had happened since he?d left Minas Tirith and had joined up with Lady Elenath, his mentor knight, and the Rohirrim was trying to figure out if there was some connection.

There had been the Easterling traveling with Rho and the Haradrim spy that Vana had killed and he had helped bury. There was also the cargo that he and the others had safely delivered to Dol Amroth. Finally, there was the missing star. The jewel of the evening sky no longer shined. Instead there was a dark, ominous, blackness where it should have been.

But then came the knock, someone urgently wanting to gain his attention. Upon answering it, the Rohirrim was presented with a note, which he promptly took and read. Folding the letter back up, Bryttar turned to the messenger. ?I will be there.?

The servant nodded, turned, and quickly left the room.

Bryttar made his way over to the bed and picked up his clean dark green tunic and pulled it on over his lightweight shirt. Then sitting down upon he bed, he promptly pulled on his dark brown boots over his black pants. Rising to his feet, he ran a quick comb though his hair and then headed out of the room.

It appeared he was the first to reach the dinning room, so the Rohirrim took the time to study some of the unique artwork and a architecture that graced the Guild house near the dinning room area, making sure he would be close by should Lord Elbren or some of the other knights appear.

Finally, reaching out amongst the darkness and silvery lights and shadows, Elbren felt the familiar spirits of Idril and Mirdain.

Return....the shadow is growing in Erebor....you are needed here.... he whispered to them in what seemed like silent, slow motion...

He could feel nothing more, and suddenly he felt very cold, his body actually shivering as it sat upon the Mural Room floor. Opening his eyes, he stood slowly, blinking, and then with a sigh, he left the room.

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

Still clad only in the simple robe, belt, and dagger, Elbren entered the Dining Hall to find just a few Knights gathered. One was a face he did not know: Rohirric, by the looks of him, and young, though the Elven Lord sensed a great strength within the youth.

Much like my young Rohirric Prince, Elbren thought to himself and then wondered where the son of Eomer was...

"Well met," the young Rohirrim spoke, stepping closer to Elbren.

And bold, Elbren smiled his silent observation.

"Mae Govannon," said the Elf, taking the offered hand of friendship.

"I am Bryttar," the man continued, "I have been traveling with Lady Elenath."

"Ah yes," Elbren nodded, "the trip to Dol Amroth was a success, I am told."

"Yes, M'lord," Bryttar responded.

Elbren took a cup of wine from a passing servant and motioned for Bryttar to do the same, "You should eat and drink to your content now, my young friend, for you must fast and remain alone in the hours before you witness the Giliath Londe."

Bryttar's eyes widened as the Guild Master made mention of the Initiation Ceremony of the Mithril Knights. But before he could respond, Elbren turned spoke.

"Ah, the others are coming. Please, be seated and we shall celebrate tonight...." Elbren frowned but then quickly vanquished the thought that followed despite the fact that two of my Guild mates are missing and Erebor is about to fall to the Red Hammer....

The soft knock sounded at Vana's door. She rose quietly from her chair where she had been looking out the window. The morning sun having risen to its zenith in the sky. Breakfast had been long gone and her stomach was telling her it was time to eat again.

As she opened the door a tall gentleman in a coat of mail stood. He bowed to her then handed her a note. With trembling hands she carefully unfolded the note. Vana read the note over then smiled at the knight standing before her. The note being from Lord Elbren requesting her presents in the dining hall.

"Shall we go then?" Vana stated with a smile to the knight, yet her heart nearly jumped from her chest with an anxious new excitement.

Without another thought Vana followed him down the corridor that lead to the great hall. Passing many doors as they went, Vana wondered what lay beyond each. Yet each step brought more nervous feelings. The corridor turned a corner or two before the knight slowed his pace.

He walked up to a massive door, knocked loudly upon it three times and then opened it so that Vana could enter. Vana turned to thank him but he simply shut the door and was gone.

Vana entered the darkened room walking slowly as her eyes grew accustomed to the waning light. Then she could see Bryttar one of the knights in training that she had been getting to know. The Lord Elbren was about as well looking somewhat dismayed or bewildered about something. Vana hoped she had not kept them waiting too long.

"You summoned me m'lord and I have come!" she curtsied to the Lord Elbren. He nodded then asked her to join Bryttar at the table explaining about the fasting and time of solitary reflection he wished for them to partake in before their initiation ceremony. Vana nodded her understanding as she sat next to Bryttar at the table and they awaited the others to join them there.

Elenath was relieved when she received the note from Elbren: she was getting tired of pacing the room and pacing circles in her thoughts. She left at once, and made her way to the Dining Hall. She paused at the doorway, noting who was there. Not many, yet: Bryttar was there, and Lord Elbren was speaking to him. Elenath saw nervousness flicker across the Rohirrim's face, and smiled in sympathy: she remembered well her own nervousness before Initiation. Vanaladiel entered also, and took a seat near Bryttar. Elenath took a cup of wine, and moved slowly toward the table, her eyes on Elbren. How much would he be able to tell them? How many of her fears and questions would remain unanswered?

Bright sunlight flooded the luxurious chamber when a soft knock broke the silence. With a sigh of relief to finally be diverted from her incessant ponderings Alandriel turned heel and opened the door. A sealed parchment immediately came into focus, proffered by an elf resplendent in full Mithril Knights gear. The ranger took the scroll with a nod of gratitude, breaking the seal as the messenger disappeared down the hallway. ?Gorgeous armour? she could help but notice but then quickly scanned the fine lettering. Rolling the parchment up once more, she tucked it into her hip belt and padded back over to the bed to retrieved the Eket. Moments later soft footfalls could be made out, as the ranger strode purposefully towards her appointed destination.

The directions had been clear and concise.

As she entered the hall, she immediately saw that all of her party were already assembled. Bryttar stood off to the side and Vana just completed her curtsey before a tall, majestic appearing yet simply clad elf. By his side stood Lady Elenath and she gave the late-comer and encouraging nod. Her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly though when the elf noticed the dark rings under Alandriel?s eyes. Would she be able to attempt to pass the rituals that were taking place soon? It seemed not only Alandriel carried such doubts.

A few strides took her into Lord Elbren?s immediate presence.

?Suilad, Elbren,? Alandriel said, her eyes locking with those of the Eldar.

?Mae govannen Alandriel. Pen pedir i lam Sindar?? Came his soft spoken reply.

Disregarding the disconcerting feeling that he knew far more about her than he ever would divulge openly Alandriel shook her head. ?No, I don?t speak fluent Sindarin my lord, only what my mentor has taught me.?

Elbren nodded. ?Then please seat yourself? he motioned with his arm towards a splendidly laid out table. ?Eat and drink to your hearts content for now is the time to celebrate your successful mission. Tonight you will hold vigil and fast for on the morrow we will hold the initiations.?

?Be iest l”n?, Alandriel answered, inclining her head courteously, followed by a short bow. Then she took a seat alongside her fellow knights-in-training.

?What?s yet another sleepless night?? she thought when she reached out and helped herself to a generous portion of grilled mouton, fragrant with the aromas of many herbs and piping hot.

Elbren sat with Elenath on his right, taking small sips from his wine cup as he met the new Knights in Training.

"A fine group," Elbren nodded to Elenath. "Your journey was interesting, to say the least, I have read your report."

Elenath smiled tiredly, "It was no easy journey, Elbren, but it was successful. What can you tell us...about the Red Hammer and Erebor?"

At Elenath's question, the others at the table either looked up from their meal in anticipation or sat motionless waiting to hear the Elven Lord's response.

Elbren sighed, "There is much to tell, and I would wait for the others to join us before beginning the story. Your patience shall be rewarded, I assure you, much indeed has taken place."

As if by magic, at that moment, Parador and Tempest entered the Dining Hall and took their seats near Elbren and Elenath. Glancing around the table, Elbren seemed to be taking a silent rollcall. Frowning, he gestured for one of the servants to come closer.

"Go and summon those that have not yet come," he said, "time is of the essence."

The servant nodded and then quickly left.

"The Mural Chamber has been prepared for you all," Elbren said suddenly, noticing this his plate was still devoid of food. "Tonight, you will refresh yourselves and hear what each of the Guild has to tell of their recent travels. But when we are done here, you will enter your room and remain there, no matter what you hear or see, until you are called. You will be escorted to the Initiation Chamber at that time and will witness the Giliath Londe."

Even as the words escaped his mouth, Elbren's eyes snapped towards the Knights in Training one by one. Something was....unbalanced here. He could sense the Knights' in Training apprehension and excitement, and even a small amount of healthy fear, but there was something else....

Perhaps I should eat something, Elbren told himself...and yet....his instinct was to remain as lucid as possible. Was he to enter the Currents and the Valar were preparing him for it? What was wrong here?

"I would have you all," Elbren nodded at Tempest, Parador, and Elenath, "in the Chamber with me during the Initiations."

The statement was simple, but the tone of Elbren's voice was somber...

When the knock at the door came Rho gently laid down the feathered quill upon the wooden tabletop and slid the chair back. The words of her half written letter still damp upon the page would have to wait till later to be finished.

?Tallain!? The shieldmadien said surprised as she opened the door.

The Easterling smiled nervously. ?Am I interrupting? I can come back later.?

Rho quickly invited the man inside and offered him a chair while she sat down on the bed. She?d seen this look in his eyes before.

?You?ve had another dream or vision haven?t you??

Tallain nodded.

?Is it the same one or was it different this time?? She asked softly.

?Different...?

Patiently Rho waited for him to continue. The two had been though this enough times now that she knew Tallain trusted her; it was just a matter of him sorting out his own thoughts in the process.

After a minute had passed, her Eastron friend began to speak of a large dense forest that seemed to go on forever with a large mountain towering behind it. Then he spoke of a cloud of evil that seemed to be growing and he and the dark mass in the sky had become one. As he began to explain the last part of his dream there was another knock at the door.

Quickly Rho made her way to the door and took the note that the servant held out. Smiling, she thanked him, closed the door and then opened the letter.

?Ah good

? She said looking up at Tallain. ?Elbren is ready for us to join him in the dining room. I think it would be best if you joined us too.?

Tallain nodded in understanding and quickly explained that he needed to return to his room first. Calling Chirion to her side, the three of them exited her room.

A few minutes later Rho and Chirion entered the dining room. She smiled at those who were already there and warmly greeted Lord Elbren. After a brief explanation that her Easterling friend would be joining them momentarily, Rho sat down in the open seat next to Bryttar.

Arwen entered the dining hall just as the Lord Elbren finished regarding the gathered Knights in Training, his voice solemnly intoning their avocation in this night?s charge:

"...enter your room and remain there, no matter what you hear or see, until you are called. You will be escorted to the Initiation Chamber at that time and will witness the Giliath Londe."

The peredhel silently leaned into the softening shadows of the room so that the gazes of those who looked seemed to slip right past. But it was the perusal of one person in particular that did not miss her entrance and Arwen wondered if she would still be welcome once her news was imparted. With her eyes focused intently on her goal, she made her way gracefully toward where the Guild Master was seated along with many of the more seasoned Knights.

Bowing her head, Arwen dipped into a straight-backed curtsy and rose to meet Elbren?s piercing gaze. "Suilaid, o-heru Elbren," she said simply, awaiting his reply. As his silence grew Arwen tamped down a sudden need to fidget and tried to remain composed. His eyes flickered to the swords belted at her waist. Muted firelight played on the hilts and the emerald gems embedded in their pommels winked capriciously. Suddenly uncertain, she wondered if she had unknowingly breached etiquette by bringing her weapons into his hall.

"Mae Govannen, hiril Arwen Sol," his deep voice finally stirred the air and drew her from her silent deliberation. His voice and manner were kind yet firm and Arwen breathed a shuddering sigh of relief, she didn?t know how tense she?d been until his welcome. Looking around at the surrounding Knights she saw varied looks of cheer and commiseration that she acknowledged with a slight incline of her head. From time spent with Sir. Dirk she knew she could expect similar kindness from his peers and she fervently hoped that she would get the chance to continue sharing their company.

Tallain felt a little less agitated following his conversation with Rho, he knew that his friend would do what was best and would try to understand his dream in the context of her own knowledge.

Once they had received their summons, the Easterling was extremely surprised that he had been called to such an illustrious meeting, given that he considered himself a guest of Rho, perhaps the Knights were worried about his heritage and the fact that he may be a spy ?

Tallain chided himself as he returned swiftly to his rooms, he reminded himself that he had received nothing but kindness and acceptance from Rho and all her friends and he should not automatically assume that the other Knights would be any different.

He dressed as swiftly as he could in some clean clothes, grimacing as he noticed that the remainder needed serious washing. He also put on, after some hesitation, the jerkin that denoted his house and standing as his Father?s son. It was rare that he wore it, given the implications it could have in the West, but he sensed it would be important not to hide who or what he was from the forthcoming meeting.

Once ready, he was about to exit the room when a further summons came, this one more urgent. He swiftly followed the servant who led him into the Dining Hall.

Tallain hesitated a fraction before he took a deep breath and entered the room, his eyes swiftly searched the room and located Rho, then widened in shock as they saw the flame coloured hair of the enchantress ? Alandriel. He forced himself to look away, but could not help the leap of his gift in response to her own ? he could almost sense the magic coiled within him, ready to let loose at the first sign of weakness on his part. Tallain reeled from the intensity of the emotions that being with her placed upon him, once again he felt so incredibly alive and alert ? he could smell the incense burning from the candles, the tantalising aromas of the food, the subtle perfumes of all the Lady Knights in the room, swirling around him and intoxicating his own sense.

He could also sense that there were others in the room with power, with great power.

His eyes were drawn to the many elves in the room, and the Easterling groaned inwardly, he felt so awkward around the stately and elegant beings. One, in particular, stood out by his courteous bearing and Tallain believed him to be the leader of the Knights ? Elbren ? whom Rho had told him about.

Fighting the overwhelming surge of feeling that his gift was threatening to overcome him with, he forced himself to approach Elbren. Bowing to the stately Elf, Tallain placed a hand over his heart in the manner of his people, indicating honour and fealty as the guest that he was. ? Greetings Lord Elbren, my name is Tallain Gh‰rduin. I was lucky enough to be assisted by the noble Lady Rholarowyn and have been acting as her companion in arms on her journey since. I am greatly honoured to have been allowed to enter these hallowed headquarters and would be pleased to offer my services in whatever meagre capacity they may be of use to your Order, in an attempt to fulfil the honour debt that I hold to the one who proved a saviour to me.?

The Easterling held his head up with difficulty following his words, fighting the constant assault on his control by the power that flooded the room. He searched for Rho and was reassured by the pride in her eyes at his introduction.

Wiping a small splattering of juices off the corners of her mouth Alandriel saw a newcomer enter: a peredhel like Vana by all appearances, striding up to Lord Elbren with somewhat forced confidence. From the manner of her greeting the ranger quickly understood that she, Arwen Sol ? for she had clearly heard Lord Elbren?s greeting to her - was also a Knight in Training. Alandriel gave a short nod into Arwen Sol?s direction while the woman waited for Elbren?s reply.

However, this was not forthcoming directly and Alandriel saw his gaze shift to the entrance archway.

She almost choked on the juicy bite of mouton still in her mouth.

As the Easterling, decked out with a splendid jerkin of a strange, exotic make, strode up to the guild-master the ranger quickly covered her shock by reaching out for a full pitcher of ale. She drank deeply yet not once did her eyes leave the Eastron.

Her ears took in every inflection of the strangely accented sounds he made when speaking in the to him still foreign tongue. She noted every word with mounting disbelief and perturbation as he offered his services in the most gallant of fashions. Glancing over at Rho, who had joined Lord Elbren, Lady Elenath, and two other persons she did not recognize but knew were full Mithril Knights, Alandriel saw a satisfied smile spread over her friend?s countenance.

How could the Gondorian smile? How could they all be at ease at the prospect of an Eastron joining their ranks? Alandriel was dumb-folded.

What was Tallain up to? What game was he playing? Did no one here realize just how dangerous such an alliance could be? Especially with one that had, as she knew, certain .. abilities .. yet, apparently, did not know how to control them fully. For she could clearly feel the effort it took him to cross that room once their eyes had briefly met. He was struggling, successfully so far. But how long would it be until..?

Sorely tempted to rise and confront all here present with all these issues she nevertheless recognized that it was not her place. And so with an inner calmness she did not feel she slowly lowered her now empty pitcher and set in next to her half-empty plate, eyes intent on the Guild-master and his next words.

...I am greatly honoured to have been allowed to enter these hallowed headquarters and would be pleased to offer my services in whatever meagre capacity they may be of use to your Order, in an attempt to fulfil the honour debt that I hold to the one who proved a saviour to me.?

Elbren said nothing as the Easterling bowed before him. Lady Elenath had mentioned Tallain in her report, but Elbren had not been prepared for the aura of the young man.

He's like a.....Elbren studied the man's eyes.....he's like a vessel of swirling light....thought the Elven Lord to himself.

"Mae Govannon," Elbren said to Tallain, "you are a welcome guest of one of our esteemed Guild Members and thus you are a welcomed and honoured guest of our Guild. We are honoured that you would offer your sword in these dark times," Elbren glanced quickly at Rhorlarowyn, "and I would have another favour from you while you are with us, but I will ask it at another time. Sit...eat...for soon we shall ride the forest paths to the Lonely Mountain and face the shadow of the Red Hammer."

Tallain's eyes widened as Elbren spoke the last words, and at that moment, Elbren caught a mind's eye flash of Mirkwood, from above, stretching Northward, a shadow upon Erebor and the Lonely Mountain shrouded...

Elbren nodded at the Easterling; for, without a doubt, the flash of vision had come from Tallain. Elbren had spent many years as a servant of Galadriel, and along with his wife, Lady Carnimiriel, he was well learned in the art of sharing one's thoughts and mind visions...even dreams.

Tallain did not seem to be aware of the vision being sent to Elbren's mind, though, and quickly the Easterling took his seat. Elbren did not fail to notice a sharp glance from Alandriel towards the youth and when she turned and met the eyes of Elbren, the Guild Master sensed a deep mistrust on the part of the lady.

Elbren nodded subtly at Alandriel, and then looked up to see Anorast and Nienor-Niniel entering the Dining Hall. Rising and in three strides, Elbren was at Nienor-Niniel's side and gently holding her injured hand in greeting, "Welcome," he then nodded at Anorast, "it is good to see you indeed. Join us and let us celebrate this night."

Elbren released Nienor-Niniel's hand as Anorast and she found seats, and as he walked back to his own chair, he was not surprised to feel his own hands tingling, as if energised, by the magic within Nienor-Niniel's wound.

A nod to the servants had the Dining Hall doors closed and, to the grins of many at the table, even more food was placed upon the table.

"Eat and drink to your fill," Elbren said, though his own plate was still empty, "look around this table and see the strength and power of the Guild of the Mithril Knights. Feel the energies of your Guild Brothers and Guild Sisters and let their laughter and merriment become your own...their strength and valour become your own...the shadow may wait for us in the North, but tonight, we shall take what the Valar has gifted to us and we shall relish in that power and blessing."

The Guild Master raised his wine cup, "I salute you all, Mithril Knights, Knights in Training, and Honoured Guests. I hear thee."

And, in answer, in harmony and unison, the Initiated Knights answered, "So be it."

Nurvilya felt terribly alone as she sat in the chamber of Lady Carnimiriel. The elf seemed to be preparing herself to enter the young woman's mind, and had not said anything in some time. There was a palpable tension in the air, and Nurvilya found that her heart was racing. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck like a wild thing, and there was a knot of emotion in her throat that felt as though it might burst over her at any moment. The only sound was the soft footfalls of the Lady as she moved about the room.

Random thoughts entered the girl's mind, briefly forming themselves into cohesion, then dispatching quickly and disappearing once more.

The Red Hammer...Nurvilya had missed so much, and had been able to offer only minimal aid in this urgent business. She knew not where the members of the Guild were, or if they were safe, except for those who had set out for Mirkwood days before. And even they might not have survived the journey...

Her Initiation...It seemed so long ago now that she had first recieved the letter inviting her to join the Guild. Three rounds of new Initiates had passed since then, and she was still lingering as a trainee. She felt that this might be her last chance, before Lord Elbren and the others lost patience with her trifles and refused to accept her. The knot in her throat tightened at this thought, and tears began to prick the backs of her eyes...

Gondor...if the Guild would not have her, she would be forced to return to Minas Tirith, to be placed under the guard of her father and his men. She was certain that her absence had not kindled any love for her in his heart...

Marius...Marius. The image of those aqua eyes looking down upon her kept returning to her mind's eye. There was something about the Rohirrim boy that Nurvilya could not pinpoint. She had thought before that he had some part to play in the removal of this fell spirit, but now she was not sure. He was in Mirkwood now, probably earning his cloak as she sat, waititng for her last chance at a final solution. Alone...

"Nurvilya," the Lady's voice cut through her thoughts, making her jump in her seat. "If you are ready, all is prepared for you now." Trembling, Nurvilya rose from her seat and stood before Carnimiriel, feeling more lost and alone than she ever had before.

The discourse at the table of esteemed company continued throughout the meal until finally a late hour was upon them. The table was cleared, though not before more wine was brought, and several rolled parchments were placed near Elbren's chair. The servants then nodded to the Elven Lord and took their leave, closing the intricately carved wooden door silently behind them.

The Guild members and their guest were alone and the talk soon died to an expected silence.

"Well," Elbren began, filling his wine cup again, "now we come to the matters at hand." He met the eyes of each of the Knights in Training with his next words, "ordinarly, I would ask you all to return to your chambers and begin your fast and vigil, but Middle Earth is not the same tonight as it normally is on the eve of an Initiation."

Elbren now caught Parador's nod of agreement, and he continued, "No, indeed, Middle Earth is on the brink of an invasion from a very strong foe. The Red Hammer."

"I'd say that the invasion has begun," Tempest interjected.

"Agreed," Elbren nodded, "we know more about the Red Hammer now than we did a few months ago when they first attacked the Rohirrim."

"You mean when they first attacked me," Tempest interrupted again, a frown on her face. "They were determined to lead us away from their little plan."

"Yes," the Elf nodded again, "but we were able to defeat their plans atop the Seat of Hearing--"

"--and destroyed the Arkenstone in the process," this was Parador.

Elbren's face visibly darkened at the mention of the relic's destruction, "Regrettable...tragic, I know. But it could not be helped. Hopefully, when Dirk returns the Arkenstone shards to the Dwarves, they will understand."

At the mention of Dirk's name, Arwen Sol looked up sharply. She seemed to want to speak, but instead maintained her silence.

"And now Sir Dirk is unaccounted for," Elbren drew in a breath quickly, "which troubles me greatly. Indeed, Idril and Mirdain's absence is troubling as well, but--" Elbren held up a hand to Tempest's anticipated protest, "those matters are out of our hands. We must trust to Eru and the Valar that they are all three well and that we shall see them again soon."

Silence fell upon the room again as Elbren collected his next thoughts, "The Red Hammer has been allied with other peoples of Middle Earth for quite some time. They had an allegiance with Saruman, and I suspect, as does the Dark Champion, that this allegiance was forged for the sole purpose of an attempt to resurrect Saruman should he lose his body of flesh and blood. The Red Hammer, though they have remained in the East and outside of most matters of our known world, have, it seems, kept a close watch on our political situation here. Now, they have deemed, is the right time and opportunity for them to wage war on our peoples in an attempt to rule all of what we know as Middle Earth," Elbren sighed, "we seem to have thwarted that attempt and the Red Hammer have moved their strength and push to the North, leaving Isengard and whatever else Saruman may have left behind for them, alone. For now. The alliance that troubles me the most, and which threatens to change Middle Earth the most, is the apparent alliance between the Knights of the Silmaril and the Red Hammer. It is my belief, and the belief of the Dark Champion, that the Knights of the Silmaril have obtained the Silmaril that would become the Star of Earendil, and offered it to the Red Hammer as a gift or as a sign that they have a power that the Red Hammer needs."

"Why would the Red Hammer care about the Silmaril?" Tempest asked.

"Well, they would, I think, based on the history of the Silmaril. It is not just the Eldar who are affected by its beauty," Elbren replied, with an edge to his voice, "besides. If the Knights of the Silmaril stole the jewel after the sack of Menegroth, then they would also have the Nauglimir. And THAT, my friend, would be a strong bargaining tool and a mighty gift to the Red Hammer."

"And why would the Red Hammer need the Knights of the Silmaril...other than, of course, to supply them with pretty jewels?"

Elbren frowned, "It's more than that, Tempest. The Red Hammer don't need the Knights of the Silmaril. The Knights need the Red Hammer. They have obtained a Silmaril; an Ages long quest has been completed. But there are those that would stop at nothing to return the Silmaril to the Currents."

"That would be us," Parador looked up, her face revealing the same conclusions that Elbren himself had drawn.

"Precisely, so the Knights of the Silmaril need to destroy the Mithril Knights," Elbren said quietly, "otherwise they know that we will stop at nothing to return the Silmaril to its rightful place...and who would begin an inquisition against the Mithril Knights? No one among the Free Peoples would do that. Only an outside power. A mighty power. And what could you offer to a powerful and mighty force that could possibly entice them to wage war on such an enemy?"

"You give a Dwarf a pretty jewel," Tempest muttered, "in order to buy his sword."

Parador nodded grimly, "In this case, you give them the Nauglimir in exchange for a contract on the Mithril Knights."

"As part of their already planned invasion," Elbren stated.

"So," Parador smoothed the front of her robe, "that all makes sense. What now?"

"We hope that Mirdain and Idril are successful in the Currents," Elbren sighed, "if that happens, then the Nauglimir and Silmaril will leave our world and our message to the Red Hammer will ring with strength and truth."

"Message?" Alandriel frowned, "I'm sorry, Lord Elbren. I'm confused? What currents do you speak of and how could the Nauglimir and the Silmaril be here? Now?"

"Ah," Elbren smiled at the Knight in Training, and then noticed the same looks of bewilderment on the face of the other uninitiated knights and Tallain, "my apologies. There are certain...elements of our Guild that are what we call the Mysteries. One of those Mysteries is the ability to travel what we call the Currents and take part in events of the past. Indeed, you will experience something very similar during your Initiation, though you will only be an observer."

"You mean visit the past?" Tallain's question was straight to the point.

Elbren folded his hands before him on the table, "All things have a resonance," he said slowly, "beings...events.....places....they all have a spirit about them that is timeless. Even when they are gone physically from the present, they still emit ...an echo..from their time of existence. The longer that something exists physically and grows the stronger those echoes are. Those echoes exist for all time and...are timeless. They do not exist here...but they exist somewhere. We call that somewhere the 'currents'."

"And you can get there?"

"Yes," Elbren's voice was firm, "oh yes. Have you not noticed that the Star of Earendil is missing from the night sky?"

"Of course! Everyone in Middle Earth is afraid that the Final Battle is coming because of it!"

"Then you have seen proof that indeed the currents can be visited and....most disturbing of all...they can be altered. Altered so that the present is indeed impacted."

"You...surely you knew that was possible?" Vanaladiel said quietly.

Elbren looked very upset, "Yes, well...it has always been forbidden TO alter the currents..and up until a few weeks ago, no one had. So, we 'knew' that it was possible but had never experienced it."

"Perhaps the Currents should not be visited...ever..." Anorast spoke up.

"Perhaps," Elbren agreed, "but that is a discussion for another time...after we've dealt with the consequences of what the Knights of the Silmaril have done."

"And then we can put a bounty out on them and that problem will go away," Tempest smirked.

"Again, a discussion for another time," Elbren replied softly.

"You mentioned a message that was sent to the Red Hammer," Parador reminded them.

"Yes, when the Dark Champion left our rendezvous, he was on his way to deliver a message to the Red Hammer. This message was simple: The Mithril Knights, not the Knights of the Silmaril, are the guardians of the Currents and we will not allow them to be altered. Anything that has been gifted to them that is not of this time will be taken back. It will disappear. We don't even have to confront them to do this. Because we have the power to do it."

"And this does what? Shows them that we're more powerful than the Knights of the Silmaril?" Tempest shook her head, "I don't see the point, Elbren."

"This is all about power, Tempest," Elbren replied, "any advantage we can gain is worth something."

"Okay, so the Nauglimir disappears and the alliance between the Knights of the Silmaril and the Red Hammer is null and void. Then what?"

"I'd say that's a pretty important null and void, wouldn't you?" Elbren retorted. "With what the Red Hammer has seen at the Seat of Hearing, at Helm's Deep, and will soon see in Erebor, don't you think they're going to get the idea that they are waging war against something very powerful?

"Oh yes," the doors to the dining hall opened suddenly, startling them all, "the Red Hammer is indeed a little wary of the Mithril Knights and their allies. Lightning from the sky at Helm's Deep, lightning and the use of the Giliath Londe at the Seat of Hearing....oh yes...they are indeed wary of you."

"RADAGAST!"

Parador was the first to speak the Wizard's name as he entered the room and smiled at them. He looked travel worn, but then Radagast almost always did, and he sat down quickly next to Anorast.

"Has dinner already been served?" asked the Istari.

"We will get you some dinner," Elbren smiled as he reached over and rang a small bell.

"What news?" Parador could barely contain her excitement at seeing her old friend.

At the question, Radagast's face grew dark, "Grave news, I fear, and I have lost no time in seeking you here in great Mirkwood. Isengard," the Wizard took in a deep breath, "Isengard has repelled two attacks in the last three days from the Red Hammer. No! Do not look so troubled! It is still in the hands of the Gondorian soldiers and Mithril Knights, but they are sieged and cannot escape in safety. Word has been sent to Minas Tirith and Edoras, but the fight is fierce and I do not know how long they can hold before aid arrives."

"Alas! Ill news! So the fight ensues North and South and whither do we go!?" Elbren nearly shouted.

"You go North as planned," Radagast said firmly, "Isengard cannot be saved by you, not now. We must trust to Eomer and Elessar in that matter."

"Then why did you come to tell us that?"

"I have come to lend my aid to you as you go to battle the Red Hammer. You will need me, I think," the Istari nodded.

"Good, that is encouraging," Elbren's smile was sincere.

"While you initiate your new Knights, Elbren, the Eagles have offered to carry scouts so that we can get a look at what awaits us."

"Excellent," Elbren looked around the table, "I am sure that we will have Knights who wish to do this."

"It can only aid us in this effort," Radagast agreed as a servant entered the room with a plate of food for him. "Wonderful! The Mithril Knights do indeed set a good table! Even if it's not the table that I usually get in Lothlorien," the Wizard looked at Elbren and winked, "but tasty nonethless."

"I will commend our Galadhrim chefs when I return home," Elbren replied, feeling a pang of loneliness as he thought of his wife and family.

"We should leave in three days," Radagast said as he cut his spiced meat, "and no later. "

Elbren nodded, "It shall be done."

"Oh, and what are you doing about getting the Star of Earendil back? It's been missing for awhile you know?"

Elbren grinned at the Istari tiredly, "We're working on it, old friend."

They had indeed arrived in Mirkwood. The last stages of her voyage, Nin had spent them in a state of weakness, as she had rarely known before. It seemed to her that it was an effort to keep her heart beating and to breathe. Not only the constant loss of blood exhausted her, but also the visions and voices growing in her head.

She could hear the sound of the falling hammer almost all the time now, sometimes it covered the voices of her fellow knights and felt cut off from the outer world. Again and again, she heard the clinging of iron, Th sound of newly forged weapons, falling on each other. A war machine was running somewhere, and it was running strongly and swiftly, the strike would fall sooner and harder than they expected. And it would fall on them.

In those moments, when the visions occupied all her mind, her wound was bleeding heavier than ever. She knew then that she would not survive for a very long time. She could also hear the screams and the orders given to an army approaching, spoken in a language that she did not know, yet recognised as dwarfish, for she had heard it spoken by the Scribe many years ago. There were other languages that she had never heard of, and she wondered if they were from the East. The sound of the voices was harsh and rough, but not dreadful. Some of the instructions seemed precise and detailed and NN regretted that she did not understand them. She tried to remember the words; maybe Elbren would understand some of it or another knight, once they arrived in Mirkwood.

Only by the time they arrived in Mirkwood, she was too weak, almost too weak to walk, and the walls between her and the visions had grown so thin that she could not tell any more what was real and what was not. The world faded in front of her eyes.

How she managed to go to the dinner, she could not really tell ? inside the Guild House, some of her forces came back, and her mind was clearer than before. She saw that Elbren was preoccupied with something after having talked for a long time to the Lady Parador and thought that it was not the moment to add to his sorrows. It meant a huge effort to great the knights in training. One of them was a woman, a ranger apparently, with flaming red hair, a Rohirrim who was somehow close to Rholarowyn, a very beautiful peredhel, who more than all other seemed like an apparition to Nin in her weakness and an Easterling. There had been something about the Easterlings in her visions, but now she could not remember it any more. Luckily, nobody asked her to say a word. She felt sometimes Parador and Anorast looking at her with concern, but she was not sure of it.

The new knights, the meal, even Anorast, she could only see them like through a veil, thickening in every minute, as if the fog was closing around her and soon would catch her. Elbren's words about the Silmaril knights sounded to her as if they were spoken far away from somewhere beyond the sea or through a tunnel. And in the same time, it seemed to her that the voices in her head became louder. And then, in the moment, when the wizard entered, there was like a scream and then for the first time in days a complete silence in her mind. Whatever tried to enter her thoughts, it was afraid of Radagast.

At the end of the meal, when all were allowed to leave, to go back to their rooms and rest, Nienor also thought that she would stand up, leave with The others, maybe sleep. But rising from her chair, unexpected to herself, she broke down. It was not spectacular; she just fell together like a castle of cards, like a small bundle of tissues. Her skin had the colour of wax and was cold, pale and deathlike. Her entire left sleeve was soaked with blood.

She felt vaguely that someone lifted her from the ground. Probably Anorast. The sound of a foreign heartbeat mingled with the rhythm of the hammer. Nin did not feel anything any more, did not feel anything any more, she was surrounded by the dark and all the living world had disappeared from the sound of the hammer and the clamour of an army under the darkness of a starless night.

Elbren sent a healer to see her and it was attempted to close her wound with the sickle as she had thought it possible, but she seemed to be beyond reach, but not yet dead. As it had often happened for moments, her eyes had switched and the sign of the sickle had taken the place of her pupils. She was related to the sky through them, and the return of the star of Earendil seemed to be her only chance to survive the following days.

Elbren stood outside of Nienor-Niniel's room amongst a host of anxious and concerned faces.

"She must rest," Elbren said quietly, "and we must continue with the matters at hand." He addressed the Knights in Training, "Return to your chambers. You will have water available and you may rest, read, or sleep as you see fit, but do not leave your chamber until you are summoned."

Elbren then turned to Parador, "If you would, please join me in the morning to assist me in preparing the Mural Chamber."

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

The rest of the evening was quiet, though towards dawn, the distant sound of battle found the Knights in Training concerned that maybe the Guild House was under attack. However, the words of Elbren would echo in the minds and they remained in their chambers...

The following day was quiet and long...and for some, tedious. It was only when the sun began to set again that the sounds of battle emerged again from the darkness....

Having been dismissed to their quarters, Vana spent time going over in her mind the events that had unfolded at dinner.

The talk about the Red Hammer had been something of great interest and such dire urgency. Had someone been able to span between time and space to change the course of the future and the very present? This would account for the missing Star of Earandil. But to have such power would be catastrophic for all of Middle Earth, but then Lord Elbren said that the Mithril Knights had held such power for many years and were the guardians of the Star and the currents. What power the Mithril Knights had and yet so few would have known. So who could have breached that access to the currents and removed the Star?

This question hung in Vana's mind for some time as she paced and thought and even spoke out loud to herself, something she rarely did.

Several times a soft knock would sound at the door and a voice would ask if she was in need of anything.

"No thank you!" was always her response, then she would go back to her thoughts.

The long night passed and morning came with little rest. Vana had not even sat upon her bed this night as she couldnt help but go over and over the conversation between Lord Elbren and the Knights in the great dining hall. Soon the Knights in Training would be initiated and Lord Elbren mentioned something about them learning for themselves about the currents. Vana's excitement turned to great inner fear at the prospect of moving into another realm, a past realm. Yet the fact would be one of great anticipation to see what one could do or see in such a realm.

Another knock came upon the door late in the morning hours. When Vana opened the door a servant stood there with a clean change of clothing and the means for her to bath once more.

"Come in!" Vana showed them in and had them set things up behind the screen. The servant woman laid out a clean quilted jerkin and suede trousers for Vana with a silken blouse. The items looked rather regal yet hardly what she would have expected at this time. These seemed more like travel clothing yet a bit finer. A boy brought in some black fine leather boots polished and ready for any occasion.

Before he left he made one more request.

"May I be of service to you in polishing your swords and restringing your bow, M'lady?" he stated trying to sound all grown up, Vana couldnt help but smile.

Surely this boy knew well enough that Knights cared for their own weapons but she felt like humoring him. Perhaps he was hoping someday to become a knight himself? So she responded to him.

"Now I dont usually let others handle my weapons but if you insist then bring in your cloths and string and do them here while I read some." She watched as the boys face lit up and he ran for his things.

Vana stretched out on her bed and grabbed a book that was sitting there on the night stand. She didnt even pay attention to what it was about as she watched the boy with such tender care polish her weapons. He looked at the sword as if it was a marvel and touched it with his hands as if it were made of gold. He paid close attention to ever detail of her weapons. The dagger he even held as if he was going to defend himself but quickly put it down when he saw her look over the book at him. It was so hard not to laugh out loud at the lads interest in weapons.

When he got to her bow and quiver he marveled at some of the arrows she had found along her many travels. He fingered the elven ones and then the ones that were man made from the many villages and towns she had ventured to. At that point Vana couldnt help herself, she got down on the floor with the boy and started telling him about the places she had been and where she got each arrow. The boys eyes widened to hear of the many places she had gone.

"But I heard you were a princess and yet you look like so many ordinary elves and people! Are you really a princess?" he inquired.

Vana smiled and laughed, "That is what they tell me, but I dont feel like a princess. I just feel like I want to help people."

"Someday I want to be a Knight just like you!" the boy almost shouted as he grabbed up her dagger and swung it at an invisible foe, "I will fight for the people of Middle Earth just like the Mithril Knights do!"

"Now hold on there big fella!" Vana chuckled at his enthusiasum as she grabbed his wrist and took the dagger away from him. "Weapons are not something to take lightly. People can really be hurt by them and it isnt fun and games out there. Many people give their lives to stop the evil that tries to reign. The Mithril Knights are there to help uphold the law and make things right."

"And that is what I want to do!" he smiled.

"Very well then someday perhaps you will get your chance but for today you need to finish what you have started." Vana smiled.

The boy started checking the arrows for any stress fractures or imperfections in the feathers. He definately knew his stuff there, thought Vana. He handles her bow with great care as he checked it over and rubbed it down. Then he checked her string in the pouch that she carried on her belt and added another one to it. Gently giving the pouch back to Vana, he stood and thanked her and headed for the door.

Stopping at the door he turned and added, "I wish you luck in your keeping the peace and in fighting for what is right! And you can bet someday I will be there too!" With a smile he darted out the door and closed it behind him.

Vana smiled at his exeberance and wondered if she had been as obvious when she was younger.

She walked back to the bed and looked at the clothes still laying there waiting for her to bath and dress. The water now cooled quite a bit but still inviting so Vana quickly dressed down and stepped into the water basin. She didnt waste time enjoying the bath just cleaning and getting out again to redress. Her long hair braided once more after a thorough brushing out.

Silence once more filled her room as she waited for the call to the initiation.

Tempest had tried to focus on the conversation at hand, but her thoughts kept traveling back to Menegroth and to Idril and Mirdain, who still fought there. She was more than merely anxious; she was uneasy, uneasy about so many things. She had listened to Elbren's words with a wonder mixed with doubt. Knights of the Silmaril. Saruman and the Red Hammer. The dwarves of the past and present. How quickly it all had happened, and yet it had been set into place so long ago. How farsighted had Saruman been, to envision a time when he might not exist. How unlike the Dark Lord, who saw only victory for himself, at the cost of everything.

Radagast's presence was somewhat of a comfort, though she wondered what the wizard thought of her. For now, it did not matter, and she felt hopeful at his words, as if there was still a chance for them to turn the tide. Still, when Elbren mentioned the initiations again, she felt the uneasiness return.

She found Parador and Elbren early in the morning, preparing for the Initiations.

"Are you certain you should be tampering with the Mural at such a time as this?" she said in a low voice.

"Tampering? I hardly call it tampering," Elbren replied with a tired smile.

"If you are certain..."

"I know. I feel it too. Like the hint of a storm on the wind, even though the skies are clear," he said reassuringly.

"It's more than that. I fear...something is different. It's as though the Currents are not friendly to us anymore. It hurt me, to come back through them this time. It hurt me, Elbren."

He was silent, and Parador looked at both of them in concern. "How can that be?" she said softly.

"I don't know. But I'm only saying, use caution. The Knights of the Silmaril might have done more than we know. Do we really have to hold the Initiations now?"

"Yes," Elbren answered confidently. "No question. We need them."

"Are you willing to have their blood on your hands if something should go wrong? You said yourself that the Knights of the Silmaril want to destroy us. What if they somehow manage to tamper with the Mural during the Initiations? I've already killed two who wore the cloak of the Mithril Knights. Might there not be more traitors in our midst?"

Lord Elbren?s subtle nod somewhat alleviated the ranger?s worst fears. At the very least, so it seemed, the guild-master was aware of the potential problems and issues surrounding Tallain?s possible entry into the guild. Yet comforted she felt not.

With intense concentration she followed Lord Elbren?s long discourse, noting any and all that interjected comments and questions, the manner in which they did so.

Lady Tempest drew Alandriel?s eye first, her blond hair in striking contrast with her piercing dark eyes; her cool colouring almost belying the decisive and forceful temper she exhibited during the discussion.

Lady Parador, a red-haired woman with green eyes similar to herself, - contrary to her warm colouring - exhibited a very cool, level-headed and almost relaxed nature. Yet Alandriel recognized the subtle signs of masterfully controlled tensions. Suddenly a subliminal observation sparked a thought: Parador was or had been a ranger. There was something uncannily familiar about the lady, yet she could not quite pinpoint her intuition. There was no time for a detailed study, however, as the debate raged on.

When Arwen-Sol started at the mention of Sir Dirk?s name, Alandriel sought the peredhel?s eyes and found confirmation: she was deeply concerned. Judging by the half-elf?s reaction it was clear that the mentioned person must have been her mentor, now missing.

Alandriel blinked a few times to bring her attention fully back onto Lord Elbren?s words as he began to talk in more detail about the clan of the Red Hammer.

There was much, too much information almost, the Guild-Master conveyed, all of which the ranger tried to commit to memory; for now she had no leisure to analyse what it all meant.

The Eldar was about to finish his discourse with the words: "We hope that Mirdain and Idril are successful in the Currents. If that happens, then the Nauglimir and Silmaril will leave our world and our message to the Red Hammer will ring with strength and truth."

Suddenly a nagging suspicion crept into her mind and she could but frown: "Message? What currents do you speak of and how could the

.Nauglimir and the Silmaril be here? Now?"

As the Eldar began to talk of Mysteries Alandriel?s suspicions deepened further and were echoed by Tallain?s question: "You mean visit the past?"

"All things have a resonance," Lord Elbren began and Alandriel?s mind went into overdrive. Was it truly possibly? How?

"And you can get there?"

The ranger was so absorbed in her own whirling thoughts that she missed the speaker?s identity. However, the tall elf lords answer fell like a hammer onto her taut senses: ?Yes..oh yes..? How was it possible? Yet possible it somehow was, so much was clear when talk turned to the disappearance of the Star of EŠrendil.

indeed the currents can be visited and....most disturbing of all...they can be altered. Altered so that the present is indeed impacted. it has always been forbidden to alter the currents..and up until a few weeks ago, no one had. So, we 'knew' that it was possible but had never experienced it.?

Each further piece of information, each puzzle-piece falling into place as with a clap of thunder sent icy cold shudders running down Alandriel?s spine. Yet she could not bring herself to formulate the highly disconcerting feelings of foreboding into a coherent thought.

"Perhaps the Currents should not be visited...ever..." another tall elf lord spoke up, one that so far had remained silent. Alandriel had thought him to be one of the general entourage of the guild house, the way he had protectively escorted, held, a blonde lady appearing on the brink of exhaustion. ?So many woman and not only elves!? she marvelled yet again but recognized her error. The elf had spoken just like. Alandriel nodded imperceptibly.

Lord Elbren however did not allow himself to be diverted and pulled into what, probably, would have ended as a heated debate; one without any clear outcome most likely. The cool-headed Lady Parador steered the topic clear of the quagmires and back on track by harking back to the message that had been delivered. At the mention of just who the messenger had been another icy cold shiver ran over Alandriel?s spine. This was getting worse and worse; much more so than she had ever though possible.

Suddenly her gloomy thought were interrupted by a fair shout: ?Radagast!?

?By the Valar! Just who were these Mithril Knights? Alandriel thought with eyes ever widening in utter bafflement.

The tensions finally proved too much for her overdriven and exhausted mind. It reacted by throwing up a random thought, one that made a mild chuckle rise in her throat: ?And next I know, Gandalf the Grey, Legolas and Gimli will come striding into the room.?

For obvious reasons she kept those musings private and lowered her head to escape the scrutiny of all present in the room. All, however, had eyes only for the Istari who was now engaging Elbren. For the first time that night, Alandriel felt comforted, if not entirely at ease. If the ancient wizard was indeed allied with the Mithril Knights as it became apparent during their short exchange, then all could not be as bad as she thought.

At the end of their meal Alandriel filed out of the room on the heels of her fellow Mithril Knights. There was a small commotion when suddenly the lady she had seen at dinner looking exhausted was carried off, limp and death-like resting in the arm of the Elf Lord that had sat at her side. There was no opportunity however for enquiries as all trainees were quickly and quietly ushered to their rooms.

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

Ten paces from bed to desk. Six paces from desk to door.

And so her measured walk began all over again.

the Red Hammer. return of the Arkenstone?s shards to the Dwarves. Sir Dirk is missing. The mysterious absence of Idril and Mirdain. Dark Champion an attempt to resurrect Saruman apparent alliance between the Knights of the Silmaril and the Red Hammer Knights of the Silmaril obtained the Silmaril would become the Star of Earendil offered it to the Red Hammer

Silmaril. Menegroth Nauglimir How little she knew about..everything! How little she truly understood!! the Currents.. Knights of the Silmaril need to destroy the Mithril Knights.. Isengard has repelled two attacks in the last three days from the Red Hammer the Currents..Middle Earth is not the same tonight as it normally is on the eve of an Initiation the invasion has begun

Alandriel?s overwrought mind eventually blanked out. Her feet however continued unabatedly the hypnotic rhythm: ten paces .. six paces.ten paces.

A loud knock, or rather a succession of loud knocks eventually startled her back to reality. Now she would face the initiation.

Inside the small private chamber, Arwen could not bear to be still for thoughts of tonight?s revelations still plagued her mind. She paced the room, her long cream skirts swirling around her booted feet and her slender fingers running absently over the jeweled hilts of her twin swords. The Currents of Time - this was the first she had heard any positive proof that traveling through time was possible, of course there were always the requisite stories and myths but never any facts. And no wonder! If knowledge of this power became known to all, who knew what chaos could ensue - what chaos was already in motion.

As Lord Elbren had told them of these things, Arwen had just caught the faintly metallic taste of blood in the air. The Knights who had entered then were unknown to her but she knew what they must be by their welcome. The Lady seemed pale, her fatigue caused by something more than hard travel and she leaned against the solid presence of the man who?s arm wound protectively around her waist. As she looked around, her eyes seemed vague and Arwen wondered what those eyes saw resting on the solemn faces of the Knights in Training.

Then the Istari, Radagast as he was called had entered and even Arwen who had spent many years in high company was awed by the alliances of the Mithril Knights with such wizardry. The Lady, who Arwen learned was the Lady Knight Nienor-Niniel, collapsed soon after and amid a flurry of activity her prostrate figure was taken away in the arms of her grim-faced protector

the Lord Anorast. A deep crease marring his brow, Lord Elbren had bid them to go to their chambers and await his summons; he hadn?t pulled her apart to ask after Sir. Dirk and not knowing what to say Arwen had placidly followed her escort.

So Arwen waited though the inactivity was not her usual custom and she disliked not knowing what was, even now, occurring in other places of the Keep. Sighing gustily the peredhel slowly unsheathed her swords, she might as well spend the time doing something practical. This would be her first time actually using these weapons and she hadn?t gazed upon them since their naming: çva-aunet‘-ni and Enyali‘ part legacy and part mystery though both were needed to form the whole. But the whole of what, Arwen had no idea.

She had never fought with two swords before, generally relying on her longbow though if her arrows ever drew short she was proficient in swordplay. Even though all her years had certainly allowed for experimentation she had never considered it. But she did know that it required a different skill altogether from using a single blade.

Out on the balcony, the night air was cool. Taking the first stance she brought both swords before her swinging them in brilliant arcs and a play of thrust and parry. Frustrated that her left arm wasn?t as strong as her usual sword arm Arwen?s play grew increasingly awkward ?That isn?t how it is done you know,? a faint masculine voice startled her causing her to tighten her hold on both blades. Pivoting on her heel she caught sight of a middle-aged man sitting indolently on the bed.

?Who are you and what are you doing in here?? she hissed vehemently at his insolent manner and furious at herself for not hearing his entrance. When had her senses become so dull? ?That isn?t the important thing right now,? he continued his voice had a queer depthless quality as it fell from his lips and Arwen shivered as it ran over her skin. Pushing himself off the bed he came toward her and feeling suddenly threatened Arwen held her right sword straight before them both.

He stopped a foot in front of her his eyes rolled in annoyance. ?There is no time for that now, child? he proclaimed causing her to gasp in outrage. How dare he call her a child! Certainly her years far surpassed his own mortality. Raising her chin she flicked her brilliant gaze to the closed door. ?Get out,? she said calmly, ?And I shall forget that you have intruded here Do not make me use force.? His only answer was to step closer until the tip of her blade met the flesh of his throat.

Still the stranger seemed undiscomfited while Arwen had to restrain herself from stepping back. He smiled, this time his voice was more kindly, ?Look into my eyes, child, you know who I am.? Unable to resist the soothing cadence of his voice Arwen looked up. Luminous emerald eyes like a mirror of her own caused her to draw back in shock. Their identical dark-as-midnight hair ruffled in the slight breeze, and though more masculine the same smile flirted on the corner of his lips.

?Do you know me now, Arwen? Child, my child,? The peredhel reeled at the words. Was this some test? As part of the Initiation? If so, it certainly was in poor taste. She almost laughed aloud. The swords clattered sharply to the floor, and Arwen felt herself falling but unable to stop herself. Hiding her face in her hands, her pale skirts pooling around her she shuddered then stilled at the feel of a gentle hand soothing over her head. Looking up with anguished eyes into the familiarly gentle face, her voice could only form one word,

?Atto??

Days out in the wild, moving from village to town, plying his trade the bard, Erinhue seemed no more than any other wandering minstrel seeking to trade a well told tale or soulfully sung song for a night?s lodging and board. Any innkeeper who heard him sing even a few bars would welcome him into their establishment for as long as he wished to remain. It was excellent cover that offered excellent opportunities to be where men who had something to hide could be induced to let loose of their secrets.

Taverns were the best sources of information especially the kind of information one would rather keep to one?s self. The bard?s true talent was in his rich deep voice but his ears were equally well tuned to sift through the background distractions of common tavern noise and find the nuggets of knowledge cast out by wayward, wine loosened tongues.

Erinhue had done very little travel in the regions of the upper Anduine so an elaborate disguise was unnecessary. He was known only by reputation, but he had powdered his dark curly hair and close cropped beard and mustache to the near white of a much older man and a black patch over one eye gave people something to stare at while the rest of his appearance escaped their notice.

Instead of his general flamboyance the bard seemed to almost melt into the shabby dŽcor, drawing notice only when he wanted people watching him so he could more closely observe them.

His diligence reaped reward and lead him to the small island of Carrock and his first break in several weeks of scouting. When Elbren had sent him north he had thought it strange for he himself would have looked to the South as a source of trouble, but Elbren had sent him north and the intuition had been correct.

From Carrock, the trail of whispers and half hinting chatter led him north along the Anduine to the foothills of the Grey Mountains. In a village at the foot of the mighty mountain range luck smiled on him again when the fearful local gossip hinted at strange doings and strange folk passing though and up into the higher hills.

A few well- placed silver coins convinced a shopkeeper to alert him when one of the ?strange folk? came down from the high hills to get supplies. With a bit more difficulty than he cared for Erinhue climbed into the hills and followed the returning lackey and his laden down cart. The weight of the cart made travel slow and enabled Erinhue to keep up easily while remaining out of sight.

When the dark of night presented the opportunity the bard crept nearer to the encampment and listened to the quiet campside chatter of the gathered company. He was still watching from the rocks when another company came up from another direction and joined the camp. Several of the apparent leaders came together for talk he could not hear. His eyes were aided by the glow of the campfire none of the men were eager to leave and what he saw brought an unconscious gasp of dismayed surprise.

Abandoning his hiding place to move a safer distance away, Erinhue spoke to the dragonharp which he had left behind in his own small, hidden campsite.

?Agarak, Elbren and the Knights must know about this but there isn?t time for me to ride back to the Guildhouse in Mirkwood. I must get there and quickly, and do it quiet as you can. I don?t want them to have any inkling that their secret has been uncovered.?

A few notes sounded but they were only heard inside Erinhue?s mind. A stiff breeze picked up from nowhere and blew the bard right out of sight.

In just an eyeblink of time Erinhue found himself standing outside the secret entrance to the Mirkwood Guildhouse.

As Parador walked down the corridors leading to the Mural?s Chamber...she could smell the herbal incense escaping the chamber's room filling her head with warmth and comfort...her mind quickly flashed back to a time not long ago as she reached for the door...

***A radiance of light escaped through the tightly sealed door of the Mural Room, the boom of battle cries echoed past Parador and Athelos. Stepping closer to the door all the while staring hard at its historical etchings as if trying to capture the visionquest herself; Parador tried to envision Dirk taking his place for the witnessing of the Giliath Londe. She reached out to touch the door but Athelos? quick hand diverted its path...

?Never touch the door of the Mural Room during a witnessing Lady Parador the power of the past can cause great pain to those who have no affair with its travels. The knight-in-training will fair well in his quest I know you have come to respect this highly gifted young warrior. You see yourself as his protector now...but you were only his mentor...he can take care himself. Sir Dirk will see things that will shed light to a better understanding of his own search of the path that led him here. He will face the memories that have been troubling him and awaken again the pain of a birth of whose darkness he will reject once and for all...he will emerge the victor.?***

?Dirk?...she whispered under her breath...?what evil has taken you away from us? What prison could possibly dare to hold you Son of Drake?...shaking her head sadly and feeling a bit cautious, Parador reached for the knob turning it slowing...and then pushing open one side of the grand doors to the MirkWood?s mural chamber..she did not allow it to open wide but slid through the heavy door closing it quickly behind her...

Elbren looked up to greet her all the while trying to force a smile...

?You look pale Elbren?...inspecting him closely...

Elbren stood up from where he had been kneeling at the mural...?Indeed, do I?

?Yes, you do'...Parador smiled as she scanned the mural all the while reaching out as if to touch it...taking a second thought she withdrew her hand knowing it not to be a wise move...Elbren breathed a sigh glad to see her use some good judgment...

Tempest entered the room as Elbren returned to the mural contining to monitor its currents...Parador walked over to the center of the room as Tempest walked toward Elbren...she was glad to have Tempest back...it gave more stability to the order...now if only they could retrieve Idril and Mirdain back

'Are you certain you should be tampering with the Mural at such a time as this?'...she said in a low voice

"Tampering? I hardly call it tampering,"...Elbren replied with a tired smile

"If you are certain..."

"I know. I feel it too. Like the hint of a storm on the wind, even though the skies are clear,"... he said reassuringly

"It's more than that. I fear...something is different. It's as though the Currents are not friendly to us anymore. It hurt me, to come back through them this time. It hurt me, Elbren."

He was silent, and Parador looked at both of them in concern... "How can that be?"... she said softly

Then it spoke to her...? Peredhil Ohtar? the voice whispered...Parador turned quickly toward the mural reaching instinctively for her sword which was not there...straining to listen...words escaped again from the currents

? Yallume! Dagnir en taur?ohtar'

'Amin khiluva lle a? gurtha ar? thar? (Halfling warrior...At last! The Ranger?s Bane...I will follow you to death and beyond)

?Who speaks!?? ...Elbren demanded feeling his body grow tense...something spoke to them from the currents...but like Parador, he was not sure of it...were they just hearing things? Had the day and weeks taken its toll on the minds of the three who stood there listening in disbelief...

Tempest eyed them both her eyes flashing with anger and fear...?IF you intend to still have these initiations now...then I think we should proceed quickly...that is...if we don?t loose anyone in the process?...Elbren nodded in agreement still feeling shaken...Tempest turned abruptly away from Parador and the Elven lord and began pacing the room...

Caranthir eyed Mirdain and Idril curiously for a moment then, out of my way boy. I know who you are, and I most certainly know her he said, gesturing at Idril. I see you made it through the long ages at least. Hmph, I wouldn't have picked you. But no matter, your tenure as 'Mithril Knights' well end before it started, so to speak, haha.

Caranthir took a step toward them, then turned toward the vault door istead, producing something from his cloak. The two next to him wearing the cloaks of Mithril Knights charged at Mirdain and Idril, but had no chance. Mirdain vanished before their eyes as Idril unleashed her veil, and Mirdain slew the traitorous knights quickly and without question, knowing the urgency of the situation. Caranthir was more alert than his cohorts, however, and he charged at Idril causing her to lose concentration and the power of the veil for the time. Mirdain tackled Caranthir before he could get to her though, and the two of the brawled across the floor dangerously close to the fight taking place at the entrance. Idril drew her sword, but with the other two so closely locked, she dared not strike.

At that moment, Mirdain's crystal flared with light and Caranthir screamed, Ahhck, it burns! Wha...what power is that? and he released his grip. Mirdain then stood tall over Caranthir as he cowered against the wall. Mirdain raised his sword for the killing stroke, fire in his eyes, but Idril yelled stop!

What? Why? I must do this. He is a threat to good peoples everywhere and even to the fabric of time.

But, you said it yourelf before we came here...remember our vow.

The vow... and Mirdain thought to himself, "can't kill him here, he has to die...killing Dior".

Mirdain twitched for a moment, then calmly lowered his sword. He ordered Caranthir to remove all of his weapons, the stand. Caranthir obliged, apparently not quite sure why he wasn't dead. Mirdain said in a low voice, get out of here vermin. Your house has fallen, and now you are reduced to destroying other houses.

Caranthir's eyes burned with rage and hate, but he spoke calmly, coldly. Ha, but this was not my doing. I care nothing for the dwarves, beyond getting their help to obtain the Silmaril. It seems this opportunity has passed, but there will be another one.

You will not have another opportunity.

Ha! We shall see. In any case, I must be going, it shall not be safe to stand here much longer I imagine. I'm curious why you didn't kill me, those 'Mithril Knight' vows will be the death of you. It will bother me pondering the fact that my life was saved by your vow, but only as a minor nuissance once I possess the Silmaril. Do you think you can get out of here in time? Farewell!

Caranthir darted past Mirdain and down a different corridor than the one he had appeared through. Mirdain started to chase, but Idril grabbed his arm and admonished, my love, he was right, we have to go now! There is no time! We've done what we could, ensured the dwarves will be first to seize the Silmaril, and driven off Caranthir. He will not try to take it from them until he can get the strength of an army behind him. The dwarves will be ignorant of the danger they face from Beren, and things will happen as they should, I truly believe it!

You're right. Let's go! Mirdain turned and got a last look at Mablung before he fell, one of the last to fall defending Menegroth in that battle. Mirdain and Idril fled a short way down the nearest corridor so as not to be seen, then produced the herb out of their belts. Mirdain asked, Idril, do you remember everything Elbren said about transporting directly to the Mirkwood Guild House? I have a feeling we have tarried here too long. Idril nodded yes, and the two of them began chewing the herbs at the same time...

----

Everything seemed black to Mirdain. He was aware of nothing except his own thoughts; he could not even master his body to move and try to figure out where he was. It seemed as if he had been cast into the void. He felt like an age passed while he was there, floating. Then, there was an intense moment of pain, and Mirdain screamed in his mind, but could not make the noise with his body. In another moment, he felt his body again. In yet another, he was aware of kneeling...opening his eyes...the Mirkword Guild House Mural Room. The pain came back, and Mirdain let out a weakened groan. In the last moment before he passed out from the pain, he was aware of two things; Idril laying still next to him, and his own image fading from the Mural.

Tallain listened with growing disbelief and great reverence as the elven knight welcomed him warmly and offered him a seat at their table with his words :

"Mae Govannon, you are a welcome guest of one of our esteemed Guild Members and thus you are a welcomed and honoured guest of our Guild. We are honoured that you would offer your sword in these dark times. and I would have another favour from you while you are with us, but I will ask it at another time. Sit...eat...for soon we shall ride the forest paths to the Lonely Mountain and face the shadow of the Red Hammer."

He bowed again and took his seat, next to Rho, his eyes flickered once again over to the red-haired Alandriel ? he felt her horror and anger at his inclusion, and could sense she was deeply disturbed at the welcome that Elbren had given him, but Tallain felt, for the first time, as though he were ?at home?. The warmth that exuded from those around him and the gentle welcome from the eyes of his friend Rho, dispelled the feelings he could sense from Alandriel, that he knew must have some basis in fact.

During the meal many surprises came to light ? Elbren spoke of the Mithril Knights? ability to travel through the flows of time, a fact which fascinated and repelled him at the same time, and he was intrigued by the possibilities and the great responsibility that accompanied such power over Time.

He listened with growing horror to the dangers that Elbren placed before the gathered company, and traded glances with Rho for he was beginning to see a pattern emerging from his dreams and this Red Hammer threat.

When the Istari appeared and was proclaimed as ?Radagast? the Easterling nearly fell from is chair with the power and ability that swirled within and around him. Much that followed was lost in meaning to him as he struggled to bring the empathic power of his gift back under control. Rho touched his shoulder, feeling his distress, and he shook his head, fighting the urge to just let go of his senses, to let go and let the pain stop. But he knew he mustn?t. Once again he brought to his mind the face of the girl he had hurt so badly, those many years ago, the single time he had lost control of his ability. As it had many times before, the image of the blood flowing from her nose and eyes gave him the added strength to snap a tight lid onto the power that bubbled and threatened to burst inside his mind.

He rose when the others started to leave, Rho said she would look in on him later and left to talk to Elbren. Many of the knights had already left and the Easterling felt slightly lost as he traced his steps back to his room, but his kind companion had thought of him as she always did and Chirion returned with him.

Tallain decided to make use of the unusual luxury of hot water and took a long bath, all the while mulling over the incredible quantity and breadth of information that had been presented to him during that meal.

By the end of his ablutions, there were several things clear in his mind - he was needed by this group and his future was somehow tied to what they were doing. There was something within him that could help or hinder them against the threat from the East . He had to find a way to communicate with Alandriel and resolve what was simmering between them before it got out of hand .. but most of all .. he wanted so badly to become a Mithril Knight himself.

Elbren was astonished when the Mural began to shift and almost roar with its own voice. He had been trying to assure Tempest that the Initiations would proceed, and safely so, when the roar filled the chamber.

"WHAT is that?" Tempest yelled over the cacophony.

Elbren did not answer, but instead his attention was drawn to the wall where the sack of Menegroth was painted. Grabbing a candle, the Elven Lord ran to the painting and watched, with a growing smile upon his face, as Idril and Mirdain faded from the swirling colors.

"O Elbereth Githoniel!" he shouted with pure joy.

"WHAT?!" Tempest demanded again.

"Look," Elbren said as he turned to the center of the chamber.

The Mithril Knights turned to see the still forms of Idril and Mirdain lying upon the furs that had been laid for the new Initiates. Elbren rushed to them and felt for their pulse and breath. Satisfied, he could not contain his excitement.

"Praise Eru, they are back," he said, motioning for Tempest and Parador to help him raise the two postrate Knights into sitting positions. "Give them wine and some bread, and be prepared, they may be nauseated and not able to keep it down. It is very important that they eat, though, and then rest. ELURED!" Elbren roared and the chamber doors opened suddenly, revealing an Elven Mithril Knight who had been standing guard. "Get help and take Lord Mirdain and Lady Idril to private chambers. They must eat and rest. Do it quickly!"

"We....did it," Mirdain whispered through parched lips.

"Yes, you did," Elbren grinned, offering a mug of warm, mulled wine to his friend, "yes you did, mellon. And now you must rest. The journey was not an easy one for you to Mirkwood. Eat when you can, it will help with the nausea and headache."

And outside, within the starry night sky of early autumn, the Star of Earendil began to burn brightly once again....

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

Once Idril and Mirdain had been taken to their rooms, Elbren stood in his silver robes, lighting the candles in the meditation chamber as the incense layered the room in misty gray. He had the oils prepared on the tray, each one meticulously infused with the ancient recipes. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...

The Invitees would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. His keen, grey eyes traveled the length of the painting, noting the intense life-like expressions of the paints. He shook his head; it was still impressive, even after seeing it so many times.

In the top left corner was the arrival of Feanor, his sons, and the Exiles with them, landing in the waste of Lammoth, the Great Echo, at the shores of the Firth of Drengist. They all had their mouths open and their fists raised as they screamed a mighty challenge to Morgoth that they had arrived.

Farther up, near the dark mountains, were orcs, Balrogs, and other dark creatures that were clearly listening in bewilderment and then anger. Elbren winced a bit as he fancied hearing the growls and foul language of the dark creatures, but then, he knew the murals contained life and energies of their own.

His eyes continued along the colors until he then focused upon the Exiles as they traveled the Firth into the land of Hithlum, and then finally to the long lake of Mithrim.

Elbren's heart stopped and his mouth went dry as he looked up to see the hosts of Morgoth moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But the Noldor were mighty and filled with the spirit of Exile that had led them back to Beleriand. The orcs actually fled from them, defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from the Exiles. Then there was the figure of Celegorm, pointing and drawing his sword, as more orcs joined the fleeing host. It was no matter; Celegorm's band fell upon them and left them in mounds of death. Ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

Morgoth was not pleased.

But then, Elbren's eyes moved near the end of the East wall mural, and there was Feanor, in his anger and white heat, pursuing the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, Feanor's laughter echoed upon the iron walls before him.

Elbren's mouth went ghostly dry as Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

Feanor never faltered nor did his pores issue the scent of fear; he fought on, determined, though he was wrapped in fire and lashed with whip again and again. Finally, though, a mightly Balrog, Gothmog, stepped forth and smote Feanor such a blow that the Elf Lord fell to his knees, dazed, and his sword fell from his hand.

His sons came then, finally, and drove off the Balrogs. But, Feanor had taken his death wound, and he knew it. They carried him from that field and tried to get him to their new home for tending, but Feanor, when they reached Ethel Sirion, he bade them stop. There he cursed Morgoth thrice and as death drew near, the veils between the spirit and mortal world began to intertwine. With anger in his heart, he was granted the foreknowledge that the Noldor would never overthrow Morgoth on their own.

He spoke to his sons of their Oath, and they kneeled next to him, swearing it again and swearing to always serve their own hearts and their own minds above anyone else's. Feanor then took one of the mightiest of talismans and gifted it to Maglor.

When he died, his spirit was so hot and full of fire that his body was consumed and turned to ash before their very eyes.

Thus ended the East wall mural.

Elbren stepped back, sweat upon his brow and his heart pounding. He glanced at Tempest and Parador and noted that they, too, had felt the power of the images. No matter how many times one studied the mural, its power was never lessened in any way.

"It is time," Elbren pronounced as Tempest and Parador nodded. "We must monitor them most closely and call them back at any sign of discomfort or trouble. Take the rosemary and use it at your discretion."

He then walked to the doors, opened them, sent the summons for the Knights in Training.

(KiTs, please post entering the Chamber and then wait for Elbren to commence the visionquest.)

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

Farther North, within the fortress of the Red Hammer in the Iron Hills, the Nauglimir, which had been sitting maginificently upon a table near the throne of the Red Hammer King, suddenly vanished.

There was no noise, no commotion, and no enemy nearby. The necklace of the Dwarves simply...vanished.

And in a chamber within that same fortress, a wail of pain echoed as the Knights of the Silmaril discovered that their precious Silmaril had vanished as well.

Fearing the wrath of the Red Hammer, the Knights of the Silmaril prepared to depart, swearing vengeance upon the Mithril Knights....

Late into the afternoon another knock came upon Vana's chamber door. When she opened the door she was handed a fine parchment scroll with a golden ribbon around it. As she unrolled it she could recognise the writing of Lord Elbren, it was a summons to the great chamber for the initiation ceremony. Vana tried to catch her breath as she suddenly felt very nervous and excited all at once. She smiled to the messenger and then closed the door, following him down the corridor and to the great chamber. The messenger knocked upon the huge door and then opened it for her to enter.

Silently she stood looking into the dark chamber her eyes trying hard to become accustom to the room. The colors grey and the smoke of the incense, sweet, hung heavy in the air. Streaks of light shown down in the center of the room causing it to be even more difficult to see the opposite end. The size of the room unperceivable for the moment.

Cautiously Vana moved forward into the room. With silent steps she moved ever further into the room. Her eyes straining to grow accustomed to the grey. She could just make out a cloaked figure moving about a brazer and stand. She looked about the rooms other furnishings and spied out many rugs and furs in heaps upon the floor. Four in the center of the room. Her eyes suddenly noticing the murals upon the walls. Turning about she sees them on every wall each depicting something of the history of Middle Earth. Looking to the murals she sees things she knows she has heard about in her childhood of the wars that had passed before. Even in this darkened room the colors were so vibrant and the murals so lifelike that she wondered if they were magical. She felt as if all eyes were upon her as she followed the story of the mural from the landing of Feanor to the fights and his demise. Such detail she had not seen in a mural. Without her realizing it, she was being drawn to the painting and was moving ever closer as she slowly reached out her hand....if only to touch....

Lord Elbren's words of welcome, calling her to come forward startled her. Vana's head snapping around to face him as she let out a small gasp of surprise. She had not realized how mesmerized she had been into the painting.

Quietly she took her seat upon the furs and watched as her companions one by one took their places beside her.

Following the conversation with Elbren and the others the previous night, Bryttar had returned to his room along with Vana and Alandriel when they had returned to theirs. Sleep had not come easy to the Rohirrim, his mind still tried to piece together all that the Elven Lord had shared with them as well as the recent events he?d been a part of. Then came the sounds of battle, outside in the distance. At times it moved closer, the battle cries sounding as if they were just outside the Guild house. Then they would move away, further and further, until it was silent again.

Bryttar remembered Elbren?s warning not to leave his room under any circumstances so at some point in the early morning hours weariness from the long journey, the wine from dinner, and the comfort of a good meal in his stomach lulled the Rohirrim into a restful sleep.

It was late in the evening of the same day when the anticipated knock came to his door and announced that it was time. He smiled at the sound of the familiar female voice as he opened the door and saw his cousin Rholarowyn standing there.

?Are you ready??

The Rohirrim nodded.

?Then lets go Elbren is waiting.?

The two cousins remained silent as they walked down the hall. Only the echoes of their feet hitting the ground broke the stillness in the air until Bryttar spoke up, ?Are you going to be helping tonight??

?If Lord Elbren could use me

and if you don?t mind?? Rho answered.

The Rohirrim paused for a moment then looked over at her. ?I don?t mind, as long as you don?t mind that I seem to be following in your footsteps lately. First a bard and now I?m about to become a Mithril Knight

Odd wasn?t it you who was always trying to be like me when we were growing up??

?Well that?s what you get for being the older one.? Rho grinned, then started to walk down the hall again.

Finally they reached the Initiation chamber. Bryttar entered first and stood off to the side, looking at Vana for a moment but remained quiet as Rho made her way over to the head of the Mithril Knights and quietly asked, ?Lord Elbren, if you could use me tonight I would like to help.?

Elenath wanted to be there when her trainees were initiated, but she couldn't help feeling nervous at the thought of seeing the murals again. At her own intitiation, the vision had brought back such memories... Nevertheless, when it was time, she strode firmly toward the chamber. She entered, and glanced quickly around. Vanaladiel and Bryttar were already there, as was Rholarowyn. She smiled briefly at Rho: they had shared their initiation together, and here they were again. Then she turned to Lord Elbren and bowed.

"Lord Elbren. I am here to aid and witness in the initiations, if you so will it."

?Atto?? Daddy?

Arwen groaned, she couldn?t believe she?d said that aloud. The strain of the last few days had finally driven her insane

she actually believed that she was seeing the shade of her dead father. Yet, what else could it be? Even now the gentle hand that still rested on her head belied her denials that such a thing was even possible. A sharp knock sounded on the door, the sound piercing in the room?s stillness. Arwen?s eyes turned to the door, who knew what stood beyond those oak panels she thought unreasonably and she hardly needed any more surprises today.

Looking back her eyes took in the empty place where the figure of her father had just stood comforting her. Raising a trembling hand, Arwen pushed the ebony locks of hair that had drifted in front of her face. Of course! If she could accept the fact that she?d just been visited by her dead sire then she could certainly believe that he could appear and disappear as he pleased. Picking herself off the floor, the peredhel grimly smoothed out her skirts and walked toward the door.

Her fingers had just touched the smooth handle of the door when Arwen felt something lightly tap her finger. Looking back in a reflexive action, her eyes fell on çva-aunet‘-ni and Enyali‘ still lying where she?d dropped them and gleaming faintly in the firelight. ?It was probably just the wind,? she said aloud trying to explain the perversity that had made her turn back at the last minute. A sound suspiciously like mocking laughter whistled in the wind and still muttering about the wind Arwen quickly reached out and sheathed the twin blades at her waist.

Finally opening the door she was greeted by a solemn faced elf, Lord Elbren had sent his summons and she as well as the other Knights in Training would now answer. Following sedately behind the fairly garbed person, Arwen was led into the Initiation Chamber.

The air was suffused with the essence of various herbs, their blend so harmonious that Arwen could barely pick out one scent from another. The room had taken on a dream-like quality, the gentle smoke from the incense muting the light from the burners. And the walls of the chamber they were a wonder to behold! Arwen stood transfixed, lost in the ethereal vision of the history of their world. Such skilled work that she wondered at the long-ago artisans who must have spent such devotion on the Mural.

As she peered closer, the figures in the mural seemed almost to move carrying out their roles in the vast picture. The beating of her own heart grew loud in her ears and Arwen drew back uncertainly. She could feel something drawing her ever forward toward the walls as if it would envelop her into its very surface, and at the same time something--- a thing not of herself- held her back Looking around into the wondering faces of her peers, Arwen wondered what secrets these walls would reveal to them all.

Upon entering the chamber Alandriel?s tired senses were struck by the strong aroma of incense permeating the air. Although she still felt hazy and heavy hearted, the pungent scents went a long way to dispel her weariness and instil renewed vigour.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to a massive fresco adorning one entire wall of the initiation chamber. ?The direction of the rising sun, from where power flows East?, shot through her mind as she scanned the images briefly and then, with a sinking feeling in her heart, the ranger averted her eyes, choosing to focus instead on the persons present in the room.

Lord Elbren, regally dressed in a silver robe, the Ladies Tempest and Parador were present as were her mentor Lady Elenath and her friend and long time acquaintance Rholarowyn as well as all trainees. Conspicuously absent were the stricken Lady of the previous evening and her protector, the Elf Lord ? but that was hardly surprising. However, that someone else should also be absent greatly relieved the Ranger; for should the Easterling have been present here she knew she would have turned heel and simply walked out. ?There are no more valid reasons, no excuses anymore to.? she thought, as her gaze wandered again over all present. ?A highly illustrious company. ?

Alandriel hesitated, the last trainee standing as if frozen.

She still could leave, even now. She could have done so many times before. Opportunities there had been aplenty and she knew, no one would stop her. Although having contemplated such a course of action many a times, Alandriel had not followed it through, having felt drawn. having been driven by

Looking again over the circle where Bryttar, Vana and Arwen-Sol sat at the centre of the room Alandriel sighed inwardly. Ever since Lady Elenath had almost casually mentioned the word ?initiation? Alandriel had known ? instinctively; feared it would come to this. It was not too late ? not yet.

Her eyes sought those of the Guild Master and their gaze locked, a silent moment passing between Eldar and Ranger.

Alandriel gave an almost imperceptive nod and then quietly walked over to the last empty place covered with soft furs and settled into a comfortable, easy kneeling position.

Elbren went to the brazier and took some warm oil and several sprigs of rosemary. He walked to each of them: Alandriel, Bryttar, Vanaladiel, and Arwen Sol, and anointed their foreheads with the oil, whispering words in Quenya that could just not quite be heard, and then he handed each of them a sprig of the herb.

To each he said, "This represents the life within you and the life around you, keep it in your hand, smell its aroma, know it is in this room, and when you wish to return, it will bring you here."

He walked to another corner of the room and retrieved a large, ceramic liquid vessel and put what looked like a piece of metal into it. He walked first to Vanaladiel, kneeling before her, holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards her mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," he said, "within this room lies the future and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

The metal tube was black, so an observer could not tell if the liquid was ingested or not. Yet, Elbren went to each of them that had arrived and offered them the drink.

When finished, Elbren then went to the gathering Knights, "Keep an eye on them, a very close eye. If they have any trouble with breathing or show signs of discomfort, take the rosemary and place it beneath their nose and let them breath deeply of it. They will return."

"And if they aren't breathing anymore?" Tempest asked.

"Then..." Elbren narrowed his eyes, "you get me."

Idril was tired both physically and emotionally. Their task completed and exhaustion setting in yet she had noticed upon waking that there were to be more initiations and by the looks of it, this very night. She had also woke in great pain and this confused her somewhat. So she had gone to her rooms only to change, deciding instead that she could stay awake long enough and work through the pain to help with the intiations. She took a quick cold bath and changed into a dark midnight blue dress that had no embellishments on it. She then grabbed her Mithril Knight Cloak and gave it a good shaking and wrapped herself in it leaving the hood back. She then let her "veil" loose and made her way carefully down to the Chamber without being seen. Then she slowly made her way to the Initiation Chamber just as quietly, as the door stood ajar.

She had secretly joined Elbren and Tempest along with Elenath, Parador and Rholarowyn in the Initiation Chambers, and as always, the mural held her attention for some time as she stood in a dark corner without anyone realizing that she was there at first. It was when Tempest spoke that Elbren saw her and with a small movement of his head, addressed his answer to them all.

Idril had witnessed and assisted Elbren in the Initiations many times before and she was quiet as she watched and listened to all that was said. She kept an eye on all the Knight's in Training, Alandriel, Bryttar, Vanaladiel, and Arwen Sol, but she seemed to watch Alandriel and Vanaladiel more closely than the others. She did not know why and could not have explained it to anyone but she kept ALL her senses in tune with what was going to take place in this room.

The mural seemed to be calling her name and she looked deeply at it wondering what was happening to her. She looked around for Elbren but seeing that he was busy, she decided to ask him later. Maybe it was her exhaustion setting in, maybe not. The Knight's in Training started into their Intiation quests, catching her and Tempest's attention. So it began.

First the Lord Elbren came to the four of them with anointing oil that he carefully placed upon their foreheads then he handed each of them a sprig of Rosemary. Each receiving it and holding it as if it were dear to them.

Listening intently to the words Lord Elbren spoke, Vana's heart jumped, then she felt sudden fear and yet her deepest desire was to go through with the intitiation. As Lord Elbren walked up to her she closed her eyes as he placed the metal piece to her lips and poured the thick bitter liquid into her mouth. The liquid burned as she swallowed it trying hard to get it down without gagging. He pulled it away from her lips but she dared not open her eyes just yet. So as the others were given the liquid she remained still and let the potion do it's work.

After a moment a kind of warmth spread throughout her limbs. Like little bolts of lightening going through her body. Starting low and working up burning to a most uncomfortable feeling. Slowly she opened her eyes trying hard to focus on Lord Elbren, the room was becoming a blur. Haze lay upon her vision as everything went from grey to a deep charcoal as if the room was filling with smoke from the incense. She wanted to reach up and move the darkness from her way but she felt nothing move. She could hear a buzzing noise growing in her ears but where it came from she couldnt tell.

Vana tried to say something but she felt as if her lips were sewn together and she couldnt make a sound. She found herself reeling with sudden feelings of nausia again. She felt that she could not control the feeling as her head swam and the room began to spin about her. Turning her head she wanted to see that Alandriel and Bryttar were still with her but she couldnt see them. Fear gripped her as she felt so alone and lost. Where were her companions? She found instead the haze giving way to boats landing on a shore. Turning her head back a great wasteland stretched out before her and screams, though they were not her own rising above the sounds of the waves coming into shore. Looking back at the ships she saw elves in armor clamouring out of the ships shouting with fists held high and their weapons drawn. Vana's first instinct was to arm herself but she couldnt move her limbs, they hung helpless at her sides. The fear and panic hit like a massive stone crushing her when she realized how helpless she was. Alone and unable to move, unable to speak or scream.

The elves rushed past her causing her long blonde hair to move as if hit by a stong wind. But her hair was braided when she entered the room how could it be flowing free and loose now? She tried to focus on the elves as they ran into orcs seething in a putrid smell of foul evil. The cries so hideous that she wanted to cover her ears and block it out. No one seemed to notice her and then she realized she must be in the mural or was she in the past? She wasnt sure, but she wasnt where she thought she should be. But then she wasnt sure of anything anymore either. She started to fear that she might already be dead.

What had Lord Elbren given her? Did this mean she failed to pass the rites he was administering? Grief began to burden her heart and she started to lose her belief in her own abilities and strengths.

Suddenly she found herself on a rock ledge watching as the battle changed from the shores and wastelands to the mountains. Her heart jumped as she saw balrogs spewing forth from the mountains with more orcs in masses. Vana had only seen a balrog once before in her life. Such vile and wretched creatures they were indeed. The sight almost made her sick feeling again. Vana then realized her need to breath as the air lay heavy with death and the filth of the dark places of Middle Earth. But she couldnt catch her breath. Panic set in again as she thought she would suffocate on the rank air. She grasped at her throat as if to remove a cord that was strangling her and keeping her from breathing, but there was none there. Her eyes widened at the prospect of dying here and now in this wretched place. Suddenly light faded into black and silence............

After a few moments, or was it ages, ....... she didnt know, Vana opened her eyes again and she was in Beleriand watching the orcs flee from the Noldor. Racing past her as she stood, yet was she standing? She could no longer feel her legs. What had happened that she was so numb and growing cold? Fear once more rested in her eyes as she saught to find out where she was and what was happening about her. She felt as if her hold on life was slipping through her fingers and she was passing from this life to the next.

Then a great white light shone out. "Feanor!" she gasped in a soft whisper. There he rode fast off ahead of the rest chasing balrogs and orcs off into the mountains and what would be his certain death. She remembered the tale of how he was surrounded by the balrogs and Gothmog the leader or most powerful of the balrogs had taken a sword and administered the fatal blow to Feanor. Vana wanted to stop him but she once more could not move nor could she speak above a whisper.

In Vana's mind it felt as if time froze or so it seemed as Feanor fell, but then it continued again ever so slowly. She felt herself scream but no sound could be heard except the beating of her own heart. Loudly it started to beat as slowly Feanor fell to his knees and then his sons fought to reach him and to carry him off. Not knowing how, Vana found herself carried along with the group to his final place in the mountains where his sons knelt about their fallen father. Great tears of grief gripped her soul as she watched Feanor slipping from life. He spoke to his sons of their oath and made them vow once more to keep to it. Vana found herself at Feanors head kneeling in tears, her heart broken at his passing. Sorrow like she had never felt before stabbed at her very soul as she cried uncontrollably. She could feel his body grow cold as death took his life from him, then suddenly he was gone and only ash remained in his stead.

In a moments time Vana found herself standing at the side of another man as he lay bleeding to death. Two men lay in the streets both dying of the fateful blows they gave each other. Looking upon the faces she sensed something familiar about the one man. She moved around to get a closer look into his face. Vana gasped as she realized it was Thalas. Her Thalas.... but then he looked so different. Confusion made her head swim once more. His hair in braids with bone beads attached and the tattoos. What had happened to him that he should come to this end? She reached out to him as he reached for her. Slowly she knelt down to him.

"Vana, I am so sorry my love!" was all the words she could make out through the tears. " I am so sorry too! I should never have let you go!" she sobbed. His words cutting into her soul, first tearing it apart then slowly working like a balm to sooth and heal. So he had loved her to the end? She wanted to be with him and sooth him as he passed. His head lay upon her lap as his last breaths escaped his body, his hand in hers. Their eyes looking deep into each others. Their love so strong still. She continued to stoke his forehead as he slipped from her grasp into nothingness. She could only whisper between her sobs, "Farewell..... my beloved...... we shall be together...... again...... someday! Never....... to be parted.... again!" Vana layed her head upon her lost love wishing she could die at that moment to be with him forever. Never to feel the pain of the loss again.

Then looking up to the heavens, Vana tried once more to cry out as her grief climbed finally to it's apex, but still no sound, then suddenly the strong scent of rosemary and an unknown peace started to replace the pain, panic and sorrow. She felt things go black again as she herself drifted, as it were, into nothingness and rest.

The warm dark liquid flowed slowly down her throat, leaving a bitter taste in Arwen?s mouth and she had to force herself not to gag as she awaited the next stage of this strange ceremony. She barely had time to form a coherent though when she fell herself slump forward into nothingness.

The darkness was engulfing yet at the same time there seemed to be movement as if the blackness swirled to its own rhythm through and around her. ?What is this place?? she asked aloud and her voice was swallowed by the voice as soon as it had formed on her lips. Her words did not have shape or form in this place, and she froze at the thought that no one would hear should she call for help.

Forcing her muscles to move, although there was no force to move against, Arwen ran ahead though toward no destination for every horizon was as black and empty as another. Then there it was! A faint rushing noise like the sound of water falling upon rocks and closing her eyes Arwen blindly followed her senses tuned toward that sound.

It grew louder and when the peredhel finally opened her eyes she stood benumbed by the sight laid out before her. As if nothingness had given birth and still suffered the affects of that violent task, Arwen stood ejected on a bloody battleground. Ash-lipped cold bodies lay strewn on the grass, their empty eyes staring frozen at their deaths. And the ebony-haired elf wept silent tears as she walked through the carnage.

No written words that she had ever read, could have described the anguish and loss of life suffered in this time and place

for Arwen knew finally where she was. The Battle Under the Stars: when F‘anor and his Noldor entered into Beleriand and met Morgoth?s challenge.

Beneath her feet, the land grew red and mingled with the blood of both the Dark Enemies army and the Elves of Noldor. And just ahead, she could see his light shining brightly in this shadowed time rode F‘anor himself, his fair face contorted with rage and anguish as he rode swiftly in reckless pursuit of vengeance.

She had read the histories, had spent many years studying them in the libraries of the remaining Elven cities and she knew what would now happen. Separated from his bodyguards, F‘anor would be surrounded by the Balrogs all their fiery hatred directed toward him and despite the nobility of his cause she knew he would fall under Gothmod?s blade.

Turning as his steed raced past her, Arwen nearly called him back from his destined death. Yet at the last minute she held back, her pale hand falling before it had reached out Who was she to tamper with what had happened here, so many Ages ago? What other series of events would be changed forever if she changed this one result? Despite the ingrained need to take action when she had the power to do right

As sure as the sun rose every morn, she knew this would not be the right thing to do.

Her troubled emeraldine eyes followed the proud figure as it swiftly disappeared into the distance. Tears burned behind her eyes and her eyelids quivered with the strain of holding them back. Why cry over something that was long past? Looking back at the way she?d come her gaze fell on the land she?d walked. No footsteps no mark that she was here or had ever passed this way. In her shock she hadn?t realized that no scent of blood and sweat tainted her nostrils nor did the wind scattering broken pennants seem to touch her body.

Looking to where F‘anor had departed she wondered if he would have heard her at all if she?d cried a warning and her shoulders slumped with hopelessness, what use was the ability to change if nothing ever did?

And this was only the beginning soon would come the Fall of Gondolin and the Battle of Unnumbered Tears and finally Beleriand would fall, sinking forever beneath the waves. These Wars of Beleriand that stretched through all the days of the First Age of the Sun. Arwen covered her face with trembling hands as if she could clear the sight of so many dead from her memory. Her voice was hoarse in her own ears, her throat burning with unshed tears as she whispered, ?Please please Get me out of here

The scent of rosemary suddenly assailed her and Arwen?s nerves tingled to have that sense restored to her. This time when the darkness came, she welcomed the respite from the ravaging images of battle. When she finally regained awareness of her surroundings, Arwen could feel a firm hands shaking her gently by he shoulders and calling her name in soft yet urgent tones.

With a lethargic movement, Arwen waved away the sprig that was being waved briskly beneath her nose, ?I?m fine really I?ll be fine? The reassuring hand fell away and Arwen cautiously lowered herself onto the yielding furs that she?d been kneeling on. Breathing a sigh of relief that she was finally back in her own time her lids fluttered shut over her hazy green eyes.

Sleep claimed her, deep and dreamless.

Sitting upon the furs Byrttar slowly swallowed the liquid that Lord Elbren presented. Its taste was unusual, though there was a familiarity to it as well. A hint of flavor not unlike his mind became fixated upon the tingling sensations upon his tongue and how it continued down down until it reached his stomach and then began to spread from his middle coursing it?s way through the pathways of his body

He did not fight it as the fluid finally reached his mind and took over. Only the blackest darkness surrounded him. A void that had caught him in a world between time and space he waited

The blackness continued for what felt like an eternity until slowly a small white light began to emerge off the distance. Soon other pinpoints of light joined in, some brighter than others and still he waited and watched

It was the evening sky and though it looked to be the nighttime sky now it was not. It was the sky of long ago, of a time and a place that Bryttar had only heard of is stories, and tales, and song. Screams of anger reached his ears as the Rohirrim felt himself being drawn into a dense fog. A fog that prevented him from seeing what lie ahead but the screams of challenge and war continued on.

Finally as though some pair of larger hands joined him, the fog was peeled back revealing a scene from long ago. The cries of battle now found their home in the sons of Feanor and their people. For 10 days this battle lasted and Bryttar witnessed this sorrowful event in great detail until it was over. His conscious mind tried to grasp all that is saw but suddenly the fog returned and he was removed from this scene and drawn back. Back to a time before this battle when Feanor, his son?s, and the Exiles had first arrived to these lands.

This still scene began to play out and again history came to life as Bryttar was allowed to witness all that transpired between these early arrivals and Morgoth?s hosts of evil. Right up until the battle he had witness. Then the dense fog return again and the Rohirrim felt as though he was lifted up and carried to another place. Feanor was surrounded, alone, though prepared to meet the enemy as it approached. The enemy and the Noldor fought until that final moment came where Feanor was struck down, though not dead. His sons came and Bryttar continued to follow them as they traveled away from this place until they reached Ethel Sirion. Feanor now laid upon the field as his son?s knelt down and surrounded him.

Bryttar witnessed all that transpired between them, until Feanor was engulfed by the inner fire that consumed him and all that remained were ashes. And then the fog returned, carrying him to one last time and place, though it was a place that the Rohirrim had never seen before. It was both desolate and beautiful. A vast open space of speckled sand below him and a beautiful azure sky above. Both stretched out before him in all directions. There were no plants upon the desert soil, not here, but a single bird of prey emerged from the sky above, circled the Rohirrim for a moment and then headed south.

Beads of sweat began to dapple his skin as the sun continued to beat down upon him until what remaining energy he had left was drained from his very existence. His throat ached and begged for relief from the burning dryness. He collapsed down upon the sand and remained motionless. Soon his entire body screamed for moisture and he continued to bake in the intense desert heat, though he could not cry out for the help. Trapped between this world and the other he waited and longed for the dampness of the fog to return, surely the blanket of grey would relieve him.

Relief did come gently his head was lifted and the cool sweetness of water began to flow slowly between his parched lips. Grateful, he reached out and touched the hand upon his chin that had brought this relief and then opened his eyes. There she was, a dark haired woman with piercing brown eyes. This woman she was familiar and yet her name escaped him. Behind the woman the desert sand still reached out to the unseen distance though now the deep blue sky was black and dappled with pinpricks of light from the distance stars. Blurring the line of the horizon to where one stopped and the other started.

?It is time you must return now ? The familiar woman finally whispered.

For a moment he lost himself in her eyes. Searching them for an answer he longed to know. Carefully the dark skinned woman gave him one final drink from the clay cup and then placed it down upon the sand. Reaching out, she then plucked a small sprig off a plant that had suddenly grown next to the weary man. The woman placed it into one of the Rohirrim?s hands then taking his hand in hers she raised them together till he could easily smell the rosemary?s essence. Patiently she waited as it drew him away knowing he would safely return to the world that he came from

Elbren watched the Invitees as their minds opened and took their spirits to the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath. His job, and the job of the attending Knights, was to monitor their bodies, make sure they were comfortable, did not thirst, and bring them back, if matters became too intense for them. So, he walked from one to the other, feeling for their breath with his hand, checking their heart rates, and offering them water by holding a mug just at their lips. Some of them drank, a purely instinctual response, and some of them were too far away to care.

Elbren then stood and walked to the brazier, using a gold covered spoon-like tool, he shoveled much of the visionquest incense into a golden bowl. The bowl had a chain that could be attached to it for carrying, and this is what Elbren did. He drew the hood of his midnight blue cloak up over his head, drawing it down in the front so that his face was in complete shadow, and then took the bowl of incense into his hands.

He walked to the middle of the East Wall mural and began to walk up and down it, swinging the golden bowl to and fro, and chanting words in a language that was as old as the stars themselves.

Some of the words reached through to the Invitees, even as far away as their spirits were, both in time and in distance.

...light of the stars will be shown to thee.....and you know that the power of the starlight can be used.....great power and strength......behold the makings of the Spirit of Fire, which resides in the stars...and the stars reside in him...and in thee....you have been chosen to witness the first giliath....BEHOLD!

Within the room, the ceiling became the starry, twilight sky of the First Age and each meditating figure began to glow with a silver aura. The middle portion of the East Wall mural, the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath, began to move and sway as the figures came to life, battle screams and shouts emitting and echoing from it.

The hosts of Morgoth were moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But Feanor himself had not been idle during this time, and using his skills to work with the Starlight, he had fasioned what would later become the icon for the Guild of the Mithril Knights. Using this for the first time, the orcs actually fled from the Noldor. Defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from Feanor, the orcs went nearly mad.

For ten days, Feanor held aloft the shining object, and ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

But, having held the object for so long, Feanor was unable to control the power. He was weak in mind, spirit, and flesh, and nearly mad himself. He pursued the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, his insane laughter echoing upon the iron walls before him.

Morgoth then sent his answer: Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

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

Distant horns began to sound, one by one, and Elbren and the Knights turned to the mural, their eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. They saw the figures of Vanaladiel, Brytta, and Arwen Sol appear on the mural, as if by magic, and they thus knew that the trio were now Witness to the Giliath Londe.

Elbren walked to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened a wooden cabinet with a key that hung from his belt. Drawing out three midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloaks of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to each of the three, aware that they were returning and bewildered and tired.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and it was both warm and cool as needed, but when closely inspected, runes of power and Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric in many places. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloaks and laid one around the shoulders of each new Knight, and they stirred slightly as it rested upon them. On the mural, Feanor was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and all around, his sons and others, were kneeling and seemed to be speaking in unison.

"I will explain more about the cloak when you fully awaken," Elbren said to each new Knight, "you are now an Initiate of the Order of the Mithril Knights. Welcome."

The new Initiates were offered wine and food to help them ground themselves, and they were kept warm and comfortable while they waited for Alandriel to return...

"Do you think she is in some sort of discomfort?" Tempest asked.

Elbren eyed the Knight in Training carefully....

"This represents the life within you and the life around you; keep it in your hand, smell its aroma, know it is in this room, and when you wish to return, it will bring you here."

Alandriel took the sprig of rosemary and set it in her lap. Both of her hands came to rest loosely on top of it, her eyes fixing an imaginary point on the polished stone floor in front of her.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients. Within this room lie the future and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

When it was her turn to drink from the proffered vessel the Ranger hesitated for one final moment. Her brow furrowed as if in pain. Squeezing her eyes shut she took a small mouthful and then forced herself to relax.

At first the somewhat viscid liquid felt cool in her mouth, the flavour of many herbs almost refreshing. Yet Alandriel, having more than once encountered various preparations to assist in spirit travel, knew better: soon warmth would spread throughout her body, lulling her senses, enveloping her, transporting her. For that the fluid she had just ingested was of such a type she had no doubt. And of something else she also was certain: now it was too late! The final point of no return had passed.

The potion was already working its way through her body, into all aspects of her being. The strands that so far had only loosely tied her to the Mithril Knights were now, irrevocably, being interwoven, more and more interlocked with each passing moment.

Not wanting to contemplate the possible consequences of her decision she set her inner focus instead to analysing the different flavours still lingering on her palate. The cool soon turned into a familiar feeling of tingling heat, spreading through her whole body with astonishing speed. She could but marvel at the rate of acceleration and came to the sudden realization that through her attempt at analysing she was actually interfering with the potions natural effectiveness. Her mind blanked out almost immediately and the next instant she could feel the first of many shifts. Lighter and lighter, higher and higher until all was dark and still.

Suddenly she felt herself propelled out of the deep black and into a myriad of luminescent, interconnecting strands, pathways of time, forking and bending, disappearing into an endless seeming past, weaving constantly changing patterns of the now, stretching into an infinity of possible futures yet to be. She recognized it, the web of the great weaver and somewhere at the back of her consciousness she felt satisfied, elated. Her intuition had been right! The Currents Lord Elbren had spoken of were the same as the web of the great weaver. With one vital difference though, if she had understood the Guild Master?s words correctly: Somehow the Mithril Knights knew of a way to bodily travel in this maelstrom of time and space. Alandriel had only ever achieved this in spirit and the last time it had happened it had been totally against her will. Yet this time, all seemed in order. There was not even a hint of feeling like a trespasser, treading where no creature - mortal or elf - should dare to pass. No! Although she sensed a disturbance of the currents overall balance, there was a strong background feeling of order, benevolence, and it awed her; for she finally realized just what wondrous and tremendous powers the Guild must possess.

Travelling at lightening speed she lost all sense of direction and time; so much so that all amalgamated into a blur of blinding light against a backdrop of intense humming. Just when she thought she could withstand these forces no longer, everything suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

Seemingly taking an eternity, one by one, her battered senses slowly recovered.

The invisible spirit form that was Alandriel felt wave after icy wave tearing at her shape. A storm! Instinctively her feet planted themselves more firmly onto the ground and she became aware of needle like rocks digging through her soft soled boots. There was an abominable stench in the air, making her gasp. Through her laboured breathing she inhaled many dust particles, the sticky grime coating her throat, leaving a vile taste. Faint noises of metal clashing against metal, fervent battle calls and cries of death filtered through the rushing still occluding her hearing. She knew all she had to do was focus to bring her awareness fully into the heightened levels possible only in this realm of spirit. ?Energy flows to where attention goes?. She remembered well the edict, so often reiterated. Forcefully suppressing her feelings of discomfort the Ranger focussed her will and soon her senses adjusted more and more. The haze finally cleared.

Alandriel found herself precariously perched atop a massive outcrop of jet black rock. To her back three massive peaks loomed sending waves of utter terror coursing through her; horror like she had never experienced before.

?This is just a spirit quest. Calm yourself!?

A shred of her normal rational self asserted itself forcefully yet she glanced around wildly for an escape route. There was none. She was trapped. There was no way out. And so she clung to that strand of reasoning like a shipwrecked sailor to a scrap of driftwood.

?Where by the Valar am I?? she thought despairingly.

The term Giliath Lond‘, mentioned by Lord Elbren, had not meant anything to the ranger. Having looked at the mural upon entering the initiation chamber Alandriel had comprehended immediately that it depicted an ancient battle of elves and dark forces; and she had had realized that she was at a total loss - for which events, involving who and concerning what precisely the painting conveyed, she did not know. Recognizing her plight, she had ? then- focussed instead on the personages populating the initiation chamber. She should have turned heel, give in to her fears and doubts! Now it was too late however. There was no the time to lament her shortcomings! Now she needed to deal with the situation at hand.

Focussing her vision, the Ranger clearly recognized that she was in the very scene depicted in the fresco, yet also strangely remote. A host of Elves had landed at a firth. Scores of mighty structures that appeared to be ships were on flame, burning like mighty bonfires, a great smoke rising up into the midnight dark air. The host moved with incredible speed and engaged a seemingly never ending stream of enemies: Orcs! Thousands upon thousands of Orcs! Cries of death and victory rang over the desolate plain. Then there was a momentary lull as the few remaining enemies took flight. Soon they were pursued by a small number of elves, a mighty warrior urging the small host fervently onward ever more. Yet most of the elven force remained behind! Closer and closer they rushed and, hidden from Alandriel?s field of vision, the massive, black doors set into mountain behind her, swung open.

As she strained with all her might to more clearly discern the different players, a blast of white light suddenly exploded in the centre of her vision.

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

Lady Idril, being the first to notice the swaying motion of the Ranger kneeling on the soft pile of fur in the initiation chamber, rushed to Alandriel?s side, steadying the fiery haired woman. Lady Elenath who had also closely watched the progress of her trainee followed suit immediately. Alandriel?s breathing came in ever more fading soft gasps. Her skin turned a sickly, wax-like colour, the dark rings under her closed eyes standing out even more. A worried look passed between the two Mithril Knights and when they realized, the Ranger?s breathing was about to fail, Lady Idril called out softly the name of the Guild Master.

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

?Have some mulled wine, child. It will clear your senses.?

Although Alandriel?s wits were still reeling, she clearly understood the words ? recognized the voice.

?Meltara? By the Valar, how could it be??

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

Lord Elbren had followed the call and now stood in front of Alandriel, still upright, supported on either side by the two Ladies. Raising the Ranger?s chin gently, he studied the fine-boned woman?s face closely, a concerned frown furrowing his brow.

Sensing that he should not yet interfere, he softly addressed Lady Elenath and Lady Idril: ?If she does not wake in a few minutes

?

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

Somewhere, as if in the farthest recesses of her consciousness, Alandriel felt a vessel touching her numb lips. The pungent aroma of spices enveloped her, drew her back. Feeling the warm liquid trickle into her mouth, she swallowed lest the fluid would choke her.

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

A soft rattle shook the Ranger?s throat. Her breathing, albeit still shallow and faint, soon returned to a normal rhythm. All surrounding the Ranger breathed a sigh of relief. ?She will come back to us..it won?t be too long.? Who the speaker was that whispered these words was unclear, yet all sensed that matters would proceed as was pre-ordained.

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

The fog surrounding her being slowly lifted and soon the familiar face of the ancient woman came into focus. Alandriel blinked several times and then raised her hands; somewhat unsteadily at first but soon more confident, as awareness of having control over them set in. Vigorously she rubbed her palms over her as of yet unfeeling face to banish the last remaining sense of apathy and disorientation. There was no dust, no grime, she noted with astonishment. Her skin, albeit cooler than usual to her touch, felt normal, as if she had never stood amidst a death-like tempest full of black, vile dirt, whirling and tearing at her, threatening to hurtle her off her dubious post into certain oblivion.

?Where am I??

As soon as the thought had taken shape in her mind the ancient woman answered: ?You are back at our old place, with me.?

Alandriel looked past the smiling, benevolent face and scanned the small room. So it was indeed! With eyes ever widening in bewilderment the ranger took in every detail of her once so familiar surroundings, yet comprehension eluded her.

?I thought this would be the best place to bring you, since it has offered you comfort in the past. For is this not the only place where you ever have experienced true peace??

?And utter chaos and confusion!? shot through Alandriel?s mind; the thought immediately arrested by the familiar throaty chuckle of her once mentor.

?But how is it possible..?? the Ranger started.

?That I am dead and yet here, in our cabin in the woods, drinking mulled wine and talking to you?? the throaty voice interjected before cackling anew.

Alandriel could but chuckle herself for this was indeed how she remembered Meltara, always ?answering? a question with another question. She felt such tremendous gratitude and love well up inside of her that, instead of softly chiding the Old Hag as she would have done in the past, she kept her peace, blinking away some tears and swallowing hard to suppress the rising emotions that threatened to choke her anew.

Meltara smiled, just smiled in the warm and benevolent way only she could and then continued: ?Never mind child where exactly we are right now. I cannot answer you that. not yet. if I ever will. There is still much you have to learn. As for me ? I have simply passed on. But then, deep down, you knew that.?

Alandriel was about to voice a question, the very plea that had tormented her for many years when she saw the stern look in Meltara?s wrinkled face.

?It was the will of the Valar that I should leave you so abruptly. Don?t ever question their wisdom!? she said sharply. ?Not even I can see where all the threads lead and how exactly the pattern forms. That is in the hands of the great weaver as you well know. But I was not grated this meeting to discuss these intricate matters with you. I was allowed to interfere to.. save you.?

?Save me? ..from what??

?You are not strong enough yet to experience the full initiation, the total extent of the horrors of..even as an observer. for this will only be in preparation for.? her voice trailed off. After a moment of silence she continued, eyebrows raised, eyes boring into the ranger:

?Do you know what it was you were witnessing??

? The Dagor-nuin-Giliath. an ancient battle as I was told the mural.. a portal back in time way back I believe.? Alandriel answered hesitantly. ?There was no sun, no moon only the stars. an elven host marching. orcs fighting .?

?You don?t know then, do you??

Alandriel shook her head.

Meltara sighed. ?There never was enough time to complete your knowledge of the all the histories, especially those of the first age of Middle Earth. I know I told you of the forging of the Palant’ri and the three Silmarils by Curufinw‘ during the Elder Days, how all three jewels were lost. Yet I never told you the full story. For Curufinw‘ was F‘anor, the only child of Finw‘?s first spouse M’riel, and he brought unimaginable suffering to the elves and to Middle Earth by folly of his pride.?

Alandriel looked at her mentor incredulous as she finished:

?That is what you were witnessing: F‘anor?s treacherous escape from Valinor in pursuit of Morgoth to recapture the Silmarils.?

In her mind, the puzzle pieces of many legends conveyed to her as if being separate chapters, finally connected. As full comprehension slowly dawned on Alandriel, the inevitable question slowly came to the forefront:

?

..but why..??

?As I said, child, you are not strong enough, not yet, to witness the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, the full horrors of the Battle under the stars. I know that since we parted you have survived a number of encounters with the dark forces. and hopefully you have learnt some vital lessons. But - you?re not ready to face the most ancient and powerful evils of all..?

?Why does she not name it?? Alandriel thought but her attention was immediately drawn again by the woman?s next words.

?First you must fulfil the task that was set out for you long ago; to recover your heritage; at least part of it, the one aspect of it that will lend you strength..strength you will need to face what is yet to come, strength to become who you were born to be

?

?What.??

Meltara?s glance immediately silenced the question.

?I know that you are aware of it also of the fact that the process of recovery has already begun. It was all set in motion when you picket out the Eket from the Mithril Knights armoury in Minas Tirith and, furthermore, when you confronted Dalchar with the brooch.?

Alandriel nodded silently.

?In order to unlock the secret of the Eket you must use the blade; use it in full battle. The weaver forever weaves her web. The pattern will soon fall into place. It is your destiny to return to your birthplace, Esgaroth, in the shadow of Mount Erebor and fight alongside the Mithril Knights. Should you indeed prove worthy, survive the campaign and return the pin to its rightful place then you will be given the opportunity to finish what you started today.?

?Esgaroth I was born in Esgaroth.?

This was the first time ever she was close to unravelling the mystery that was her origin, her roots, her parentage who she really was.

?You must tell me, Meltara, you must! Who is my father? My mother? Where they from Esgaroth, from Dale? What happened? Where is my family?? Desperation was clearly ringing in Alandriel?s voice. ?You of all people know how these questions have tormented me, how I?ve always been so alone, never part of anything. always an outsider.. an outcast.. please!? Alandriel pleaded.

Meltara?s gaze turned soft and a sad smile eased the many lines surrounding her mouth, deepening a number of creases where cheeks met lips:

?You know I cannot answer that, even if I knew.?

Alandriel, disheartened, nodded again and lowered her head to hide the tears that now freely ran down her cheeks.

After a long interval of silence, Meltara finally spoke:

?Soon it is time, time for you my child to return to your world and I to mine.?

Alandriel stifled a sniffle, looked up. Her wistful eyes met with those of Meltara, glowing with an inner light of boundless wisdom and love.

?And what shall I tell Lord Elbren? How I failed the initiation??

?There is no need to do that, my child. He will know. He will understand.?

Alandriel nodded again, wiping the last moisture from her eyes but then she could but burst out: ?Will we ever meet again? I cannot stand the thought of loosing you a second time!?

?Again, I cannot answer you, Alandriel,? Meltara replied, still smiling ?but you will no longer be alone when you return. That much I can promise you. All I can say is keep your faith and continue on the path that lies before you. Further your studies, whenever you can, and remember what you have been taught. There will be others that will guide and help you grow along the way, although some might be clothed in ways you will distrust.?

A deep frown came over Alandriel?s brow. Unperturbed her mentor of old, for that had been Meltara?s role, continued:

?And that brings me to the last point I came to tell you. Tallain

?

Her voice sharpened like a dagger point driving into the Ranger?s heart when she noted the shock so clearly painted on Alandriel?s face.

?Yes! Tallain! He has yet an important role to play ? and you will help him, guide him in learning to control his gift. You will pass on some of the knowledge you have gained from my tutoring. The student shall become the teacher.?

?But he is an. Easterling! ? Alandriel protested vehemently.

?Did you not hear my words just now?? Meltara chided. ?Your destiny is interlinked with the East, you know that much as do I. Although how it will all work out I cannot see; too much depends on other factors. I do know, however, that if you fail this task or any of the others there will be no hope.?

Meltara?s words hung ominously over the Ranger.

?How am I ever to succeed? The odds you?re stacking against me seem insurmountable.?

?There is always a way, Alandriel. If you have forgotten some of my teachings then you do well to remember this, the most important one.?

After a last pause she said with a finality that sent a chill racing through the Ranger: ?Now I must go. Close your eyes ? and when the light-headedness has passed, open them, slowly. You will find yourself back at the initiation chamber.?

For a final, long moment Alandriel looked at the old woman. Then she shut her eyes.

The familiar rising and shifting sensations set in almost immediately and she felt herself being hurtled into the currents. Moments later, back in Mirkwood, a soft moan escaped her lips as she slumped forward, her forehead coming to rest on the hard stone floor of the initiation chamber. Slowly as not to make the blinding headache rip her from consciousness entirely, she stiffened, forcing her spine into a fully upright and squared her shoulder. Lady Elenath and Lady Indril, realizing her returning strength, withdrew their steadying hands. Painfully, Alandriel opened her eyes and slowly raised her chin. The worried faced of Lady Elenath and another Lady Knight she did not recognize came into focus; and Lord Elbren.

?I havenot completed the vision. I . have.. failed you,? she whispered hoarsely. Feeling utterly disgraced and worthless in the face of the Guild Master she lowered her head.

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

. and somewhere, over the still dark autumn skies of the Old Forest, a shooting star described a low arc. A single piercing cry rang out as a light shape took to the skies.

?I have not completed the vision. I have.. failed you,? she whispered hoarsely. Feeling utterly disgraced and worthless in the face of the Guild Master she lowered her head.

Elbren took the Ranger's hands gently into his own and studied her keen eyes. He had been worried; no, he had been more than worried. Close to entering the Currents and bringing her back himself, only the distant female voice saying that all was well had held him back.

"Alandriel," he whispered, "you have not failed, mellon." He leaned back on his heels and smiled at her, "no indeed. You have a destiny that is intertwined with the Order. I do not yet understand it fully, and I may not ever have that privilege, but your road lies before you. You will have another opportunity to witness the Giliath Londe, that I do feel certain will happen."

He frowned then, closing his eyes slightly, even tilting his head as if listening to a distant voice.

"Wait here," he said, motioning for Elenath to serve some food and drink to the Ranger.

Rising to his feet, Elbren walked to the cabinet in the corner and began to dig through the garments inside. Down near the bottom of the cloth, he found what he was seeking: a simple, or seemingly simple, and plain white cloak. Taking it, he brought it to the altar where he had been preparing the incenses and herbs, and, to the surprise of all, he began to chant indiscernible words.

Finally, seeming to be satisfied, and after turning the cloak over and over, spilling oils and incense upon it, he walked back to where Alandriel waited.

"This," he said, draping the cloak around her shoulders, "is the Cloak of the Adept. It has not been gifted for many an Age, but, I think, it is appropriate for you to receive at this time."

Around the hood were Elven characters and within the fine threads were glistening silver and gold, "it signifies to our Guild, and to those that are our allies, that you are a member of our Order, yet one who has not yet witnessed the Mystery of the Giliath Londe. When...if you choose to travel to the Dagor nuin Giliath again, you will return it and at that time receive your Mithril Cloak. Will you accept this?"

Alandriel, feeling totally overwhelmed by the words of the Guild Master and his unexpected gracious gift simply nodded.

Elbren nodded in return with a soft smile.

"Now, let us help our new Knights to their chambers and let them rest for awhile. Then, we shall have our customary celebratory breakfast! We have MUCH to celebrate, mellyn!"

For the first time in weeks...no months...the Guild Master laughed and went one by one, embracing each member and thanking them for their loyalty.

Elenath brought Alandriel a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit, and a cup of water. "Rest, and refresh yourself, Alandriel," she said softly. "And be comforted: you have done well." She smiled, then turned to Vanaladiel, Bryttar and Arwen. "You have all done well, my fellow Knights. Welcome, and well done."

She returned Elbren's smile, feeling joyful, as she had not for quite a while. There was indeed much to celebrate.

Mirdain woke up sometime in the night, and he felt dizzy. It took a minute to settle himself, and once that was done, he realized he was incredibly famished. Wandering down the hall, Mirdain noticed that many Knights were gathered in the mural room.

Ah, must be some new initiations. How long did I sleep?

He only tarried there for a moment, the desire for food overcoming him for the moment. In the dining hall, he found the remains of the night's dinner being attended to by servants. When they saw him they seemed unsure of what to do.

Good people of this house, I will finish off the meal, and gladly, Mirdain said with a half-joking tone in his voice.

Lord Mirdain! Quite a trial you've been through, they say. We're to give you whatever you want. My goodness, but you must nearly starved.

Regrettably, yes. It's strange, I did not feel this just before leaving the First Age. It must have been some new effect of the journey. For now, I think that what is left here will be enough, though you seem to be short on wine.

Indeed, m'lord. We have only a little left in our provisions, but i'll get it for you. I was planning to make a trip to the King's Palace to replenish our supplies.

A fine idea. I think I shall come with you, to have a look around as well, you know. I imagine the rest of our provisions will be inadequate for the journey ahead, especially with all of these new initiates.

You're quite right m'lord, and I thank you for accompanying me. I will make sure that someone tells Lord Elbren where you've gone and that we'll be back quickly. By the way, my name is Gaiachoir.

Gaiachoir gave the message to the other servants, and then he and Mirdain prepared to leave.

When Bryttar had finally returned from his vision, Rho was there, kneeling beside him. She smiled reassuringly to her older cousin and then offered him a drink of fresh water. Eagerly he took it but struggled to swallow until he quickly realized that taking smaller sips were better. Slowly the Rohirrim glanced over and saw that Lady Arwen and Lady Vanaladiel had also returned. Lady Elenath had also been nearby at the beginning was now over attending to Alandriel.

As the Rohirrim opened his mouth to speak Lord Elbren was suddenly next to him draping a dark midnight blue cloak over his shoulders and welcoming him to the Guild. Bryttar nodded his head in acknowledgement and appreciation to the Elven Lord finding no words to adequately express this moment to his new Guild Master. Slowly Elbren moved away and Rho offered Bryttar the plate of food. The Rohirrim picked up some fruit and carefully began to eat.

Rho left Bryttar only for a moment to congratulate Arwen and Vana in passing their initiations and then returned to his side. The white cloak that now graced Alandriel shoulders was none she had ever seen before and Rho would find out later just what the implications were. In the mean time she felt it best to leave her redheaded friend alone. Alandriel?s tense look directed at her the previous night in the dining roomhad not gone unnoticed.

Finally Elbren asked that the new knights be helped to their quarters and announced that a celebratory breakfast would be served in the morning. Helping Bryttar to his feet, the two slowly made there way out of the chamber. Rho continued to support her cousin as they walked the long halls until they finally reached his own room and he was lying comfortably upon the bed. The Rohirrim whispered his thanks as Rho covered him up with a soft brown blanket, then she quietly left the room shutting the door behind her.

Once again Rho found herself walking down the deserted halls of the Guild house. The only sound being that of her footsteps. A few moments later she found herself in front of Tallain?s door. Earlier in the evening she had asked her Easterling friend if he?d watch Chirion while she attended the initiations. He had eagerly agreed.

There were no sounds coming from his room as she stood there, but Tallain had asked her to come by after the ceremony was finished. Softly Rho knocked on the door and waited, a moment later the Easterling answered. The smile on his face let her know he was truly happy to see her.

Clutching the soft blue-black cloak to her shoulders, Arwen let herself be congratulated by the other Mithril Knights

she was one of them now even if the thought did not comfort her as she once thought it would have. The reason was evident though perhaps not very logical. She worried her lower lip and watched enviously as the other former Knights in Training were led off, closely watched by their previous Mentors.

Yet what of her own? Where was he right now? She wondered. Did he still number among the living or had the war that had already claimed so many lives claimed his as well

She dipped her head courteously toward Bryttar, Vanaladiel and Alandriel. They seemed as confused as she though the red-haired Ranger seemed more shaken up and Arwen wondered what she had seen in the Giliath Lond‘ to make it so.

Unneeded thoughts scattered when she was lastly enfolded in Lord Elbren?s kind embrace. ?Hennaid veneg, Arwen for your loyalty. I think you will do well here, Lady

and I know that Sir. Dirk would be proud of you.? Arwen was touched by his words; he had known what troubled her and sought to alleviate the discomfort

for that alone she would be forever grateful. Gazing upon his face she thought it strange that she had never before noticed the lines of strain around his eyes and the memories haunting behind his wise eyes.

She knew a little part of that now, and she shuddered to think of the burdens that he had taken upon himself; praying she would be half so resilient and worthy in the times to come. ?My lord

? her whisper was both welcome and prayer; the curve of her lips infinitely sad as she took her leave of the chamber and all the cursŽd memories held within.

"You must be weary, Arwen," came a voice behind her, and the lady turned to see Tempest as she had followed her out the door.

"A little," she replied, puzzled slightly by the woman's sudden interest in her.

"You were a knight in training under Dirk, were you not?" Tempest asked in a hesitant voice.

"I was, though I know not where he is now," she answered slowly, unsure why the woman was asking her.

"Yes, I know. Well, congratulations on survi...passing the initiations. I'm sure he would be proud of you."

"Thank you. I..." Arwen began, but Tempest had already ducked back into the shadows and returned to the Mural room. With a puzzled frown, Arwen continued on her way down the hall.

______________________________________________________________________

Back inside the Mural Room, Tempest glanced at the few Knights still there.

"I'm glad all the initiations went smoothly, though I must confess I feared the worst when Alandriel did not awake," she said to them all with a tired sigh. She then turned to Idril and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I am glad to see you returned, mellon. I am sorry I did not stay to fight with you."

Idril smiled at her, for she could see the deep regret in the other's eyes. "Don't be foolish! You would never have reached the throne room even if you had stayed."

"Perhaps," Tempest said with a doubtful voice.

"Besides, if you had been there, I fear you would not have been able to resist finishing off Caranthir, thus changing the entire Mural by that one act," Idril teased.

"If I wanted to do that, I'd just go back to the beginning and prevent Eru from ever creating elves in the first place," she grumbled softly, though her eyes belied amusement. "And by the way, where did Rho leave to? I wanted to congratulate her on bringing another Rohirrim into the Mithril Knight fold."

"She probably went to speak with Tallain," Elbren said as he gazed up at the Mural again.

"Tallain? Another Knight in Training?"

"No, at least, not yet."

"A friend? A spy? I suppose it does not matter," Tempest stifled a yawn, but it was immedietly cut short as Parador replied,

"I believe he's an Easterling."

"An Easterling? WHAT is an EASTERLING doing in the Guildhouse?" Tempest asked with renewed vigor.

"Visiting?" Idril offered.

"AN EASTERLING? For all we know, he could be working with the Red Hammer! Why would you allow an EASTERLING to enter the Guildhouse at a time like this?"

Mirdain felt the presence of many dark things still dwelling in the forest as he and the servant made their way through it to Thranduil's halls. The night was nearly half through and the forest was engulfed in the deepest darkness when they finally stood at the gates.

Well, here we are m'lord. The guards know me so we shouldn't have any trouble.

They should know me as well.

The gates were opened by unseen forces. Mirdain knew that someone was always watching there, and took the fact that they were not confronted as a sign that they were permitted entry. They strode through and, upon reaching the inner gates, were actually confronted by two tall guards.

Halt. Your names and your quest, please.

Hmmm, very well then. I am Lord Mirdain of the Lothlorien Mithril Knights Guild House, and this is Gaiachoir, a servant of the Mirkwood Guild House. We are here for needed supplies for the upcoming battle for Erebor.

Ah yes, of course. Please forgive the formality. Thranduil is abroad now, though he should return soon. He wanted us to let him know as soon as more Mithril Knights arrived, so he will be glad to hear this. For now, we will lead you to the supply rooms, where you may find all that you need.

The guards lead Mirdain and Gaiachoir to the lower levels of the palace, and then left them to their own devices, which Mirdain took as a sign of trust and was grateful for it. Once all of the torches were lit, he looked around at the room they were in and exclaimed,

Why, this must be the very same room that Bilbo Baggins and company escaped through so many years ago, unless the stories i've heard are untrue.

No, i'm certain they are true, m'lord. My, and this is fine wine to be sure, i'll be taking at least a few casks.

Good, but let us not tarry here too long. Elbren will be making final plans for the upcoming battle, I expect, and will want us present.

With a nod of thanks, for the ranger was still too shaken to utter a word, Alandriel accepted the offer of drink and food from Lady Elenath. The water she gulped thirstily. The food, however, she left untouched. A touch of light-headedness still lingered and she felt wearied to her very bones. Although the simple fare looked appetizing and she knew that eventually she would have to take some nourishment, the thought of eating anything now made her stomach lurch. Unsteadily she regained her feet and was glad to be escorted to her room.

Taking leave from her escort and thanking them with another silent nod she entered the darkened chamber and almost immediately collapsed on the soft bed in. That the white cloak was still draped around her shoulders she did not know when exhaustion finally claimed her.

~*~*~*~*~

Hours later Alandriel finally stirred. Soft sunlight cascaded into the room, throwing crimson sparks off her hair. Luxuriously she stretched, still enveloped in the half-way world that resides between sleep and waking. ?What a dream

? she mused lazily, when she rolled over and suddenly her hands touched the unfamiliar fabric. ?Not a dream? shot through her head and instantly she came to sit bolt upright, fully awake.

Running the gorgeous material through her slender fingers the reality of it all slowly seeped back. For a long while she just sat there, watching how the silver and gold threads caught the light, the way the soft material moved like wave ripples under her touch, the colour strangely changing with the play of light and shadow. Aware of the highly unusual honour she had been granted she also was painfully conscious of her short comings, of the tasks she had yet to achieve. Her eyes wandered over to the Eket, lying on the table beneath the window.

She stood and took a few steps towards it, feeling its beckoning, and the urge to take it again into her hands, to let its power course through her. Gritting her teeth she resisted.

Was it not folly to walk unarmed into that desolate wasteland that was her abhorrence of anything ?East?? To begin a journey towards deep ravines of pain and chasms of hatred without the ability to defend or strike? Yet how could she possibly strike a ?guest? of the Guild, here, in the Guild-house of Mirkwood? No! A show of weaponry would certainly not do. Bridges and roads, especially between opposing cultures, were not build with swords and daggers. Only an absence of such would go some way to instil trust; furthermore, such an absence would also negate any temptations that might arise on her part.

The decision to leave the Eket, any weapons, behind was hard, gut-wrenching hard; for from the depths of her being rose the silent cry: Traitor! Over and over again; but she stilled her inner turmoil and turned, sliding the white cloak off her shoulders. She folded it neatly and set it on the bed. No show of status either; just a human being.

Walking over to the washstand that had replaced the tub, she applied liberal splashings of cool water to face and neck. After drying herself she raked her long fingers through her unruly hair, trying to bring some semblance of order into the fiery mass. A look in the small gilded mirror hanging above the stand revealed that at least the dark rings under her eyes had disappeared. ?Some kind of ?teacher? I will appear,? she sighed silently, ?but then, he does not suspect anything. Just how on Middle Earth am I going to do this?? No answers were forthcoming.

?Composed, neutral, open and direct. and no long speeches? she reeiterated to herself, as she measuredly walked down the same corridor as of two nights ago and came to a halt at the very door from where she had seen Tallain emerge.

?And after this, I need to talk to Rho as well,? she thought, as she lightly knocked on the door.

Tallain awoke with a start he must have dozed off whilst thinking through the incredible events of the past few hours that he had been honoured to be a part of. He felt that part of him had been caught up in some incredibly powerful magic, occurring in the guild house, and wondered whether that had something to do with the initiation of new knights in training to full knights of the Order, that Rho had briefly touched on during one of their many talks.

As Chirion yawned, curled up by the fire, the Easterling smiled at him ?Yes my amiro* I feel the same way, but I also feel that tonight is going to be a long and eventful night and I would not want to miss it because of a small nap !? He arose and splashed his face with water, washing away the last vestiges of sleep that remained. A few moments later a knock on the door disturbed his thoughts again, and he went to open it, smiling as the familiar thoughts of his friend ? Rho ? touched on his heightened senses. Delighted he greeted her ?Rholarowyn, my Lady, I am honoured by your visit, please do come in I feel there is much we need to talk about how fares your cousin Bryttar ??

Rho smiled as Chirion yawned a delicate welcome, and walked in, sitting she refused offer of refreshment, and looked at him proudly as she told him about her cousin?s initiation and entry to the Mithril Knights. Tallain smiled in response, he had got on well with the easy going Rider, and had felt comfortable around him .. he would be a good asset.?... But tell me, Tallain , what do you feel about your presence here ? That was a bold and unusual move in the dining room and I feel you have made an impression on Lord Elbren ? the shield-maiden?s voice trailed off as she looked at her companion.

Tallain looked uncomfortable .. ?To tell the truth., I have no idea what led me to offer your distinguished Order the humble use of my services. Perhaps it was the wish and desire to repay in some small part the great friendship and gifts that you have given me, Rho, and perhaps it was also to try and prove to myself that I may be of use to someone as noble and honourable as your Mithril Knights. Everyone wants to belong somewhere me most of all ? the Easterling trailed off, uncertain of having revealed too much of his inner turmoil.

He sat down on the bed in front of her and frowned ? ..I feel as though .. I am somehow meant to be here .. I am not sure why, but I feel as though there is something that I am meant to do here, for you, or for those who surround you .. and I have always found it a good idea to listen to what I feel ? Then he looked up at her, desperate for the first time in their time together to reach out with his gift and read her but knowing that he must not ?What do you think Rho .. am I being fanciful, to think that one such as I could ever hope to assist in your Order?s most distinguished achievement ??

His deep hazel eyes were filled with anguish and pain .. how could he convey to her how much this would mean to him .. to finally find a home after so many years of searching. And how ironic that the one place that he felt at home in, was in the midst of the elves he so feared !

* ?friend? - masculine

After Lord Elbren placed the cloak upon her shoulders and her senses started to regain their bearings, Vana took the sips offered to her by the knights assisting in the ceremonies. Few bites did she take of anything but she smiled at the knight kneeling with her.

"Thank you!" was all she could say at the moment. The sheer exhaustion of the experience was very evident on her face.

Once she felt her strength returning she stood to congratulate her fellow new knights with hugs and smiles. First to Bryttar, then to Arwen_Sol. As she turned to Alandriel a note of sadness could be seen in Vana's eye for to see her fellow trainee having not completed the initation weighed heavy upon her heart. They had been through so much and this too they would face how ever long it took.

Hugging Alandriel Vana whispered into her ear, "You will always be my friend, may the Valar protect you upon your quest to its completion! If I can help ever I pray that I may."

The initiates were then ushered to their quarters for a time of rest to finish regaining their strength for the quest to come. When Vana reached her room she entered in and closed the door behind her. Taking off the Mithril Knight cloak that she had received she examined it closely. Running her fingers over the runes that were upon the very fabric in different places. Then admiring the night sky within the very hood of the garment. She had not noticed the design of the other knights cloaks so closely so she had not noticed the details that lovingly and with great meaning went into a Mithril Knight cloak. Carefully she folded it up and laid it upon the rail at the foot of her bed so that it could be grabbed quickly when she was called again from her chamber.

Vana moved to the window and looking out to the stars in the sky she could see the Star of Earendil shining forth once more and a great joy moved within her heart. She had missed the star though she had not realized how much till that moment. Her smile though not seen of any others was a very true felt sign of her love for the night and her past.

She moved over to the bed again and sat upon the edge of it suddenly feeling very tired again. She pulled her boots off and then just laid back pulling the extra blankets over her as she slowly slipped off to sleep.

Her mind played and swirled about the things she had seen yet this time she felt no sorrow or fear till she remembered the man dying in the street and realizing it was her beloved Thalas. Though in sleep tears still flowed down her cheeks as she heard his words rolling in her memory. Again she found herself reaching out to him but this time as he passed he told her something more.

"My beloved Vana, you must move on and not fret for me. I made some bad choices but you must move on now and learn to love once more!" His hand firm within hers she could feel him squeeze her hand as the pain surged through his body, "Please go and live happy and you will fine the one who deserves your love even more then I."

She tried to speak but no words would come and then the dream faded with the night. Vana opened her eyes to see the first rays of light as they entered into her bed chamber. Wiping her eyes she sat up and breathed deeply.

"If that is your wish my love then I will live on for you and for love!" She whispered to the morning rays. With that she let go of the past and focused upon her future with the Mithril Knights.

Moving over to the basin of water she splashed the refreshing crisp and cool water upon her face then she looked into the mirror hanging there and straightened her hair. Turning to her bags she pulled out some clean clothes. A dress for today she thought would be appropriate and quickly she changed into a simple but finely made dress of a soft muted green, then put on the new cloak and headed off to the dining hall.