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Feud	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 27131 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Feud
www.feud.shadowess.com
by erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK remaining errors all my fault.

A/N: this chapter is for Dís, who loves dwarves and encouraged me to find a way to work them in. I did! Also, one must not get too upset regarding the pace of these elven horses. I gave them some extra oomph, considering Shadowfax ran at top speed non-stop from Edoras to Gondor. My elven horses gallop at Triple Crown velocity, which is round 27 mph.

Celeborn Hortha an Eringalen (Celeborn Races for Greenwood)

It was one hundred and sixty-seven leagues from the serenity of Caras Galadhon to Ennyn Velig (the Great Gates) of Thranduil's citadel deep within the cover of the Greenwood's canopy. The distance could be traversed on horse in three days if rider and mount pressed for every ounce of speed and endurance the pair could conjure up and stopped for only short rest breaks. Such was the way of woodland messengers travelling the harrowing distances between the elven realms. These brave and hardy couriers usually rode in teams of two, each carrying identical posts so that should one succumb to the evil of Orcs or wargs or bandits then the other might yet succeed. The Mirkwood Messengers were renowned to be the swiftest, cleverest, and most daring elves living in Middle-earth, and their steeds were bred to match this temperament. The very air about them was redolent with the romantic mystique of these dashing, debonair cavaliers.

There was nothing these warriors would not attempt and they prided themselves on never failing to get through with their cargo. Inu or Anu (female or male), the Athedrainyn (Border Crossers) revelled in the excitement of the chase and the thrill of straying so near to the bounds of survival. Indeed, in spite of the grim nature of their duties and the high probability of mortality or imprisonment in Dol Guldur, these elves were some of the most jovial to breathe the air. Athedrainyn sang and danced, laughed and played, loved and lived with exuberance unmatched among elf-kind employed in other trades. So much so that it had passed into common lore among all the free peoples that to 'ride like Athedrainyn' was both a compliment of one's endurance and an admonishment against excess.

Thranduil's Athedrainyn boasted the fastest speeds and shortest times for completing the journey from the postern by the Sentinel to the steps of Celeborn's talan in Lorien: just under three days. The host that departed from the Lord's home in Caras Galadhon two days after the sons of Elrond left for Imladris could not hope to maintain such a pace nor would they try.

Seldom did the Lord of the Golden Wood venture forth from beneath the Mellyrn. Since the disastrous victory of the Last Alliance, he had travelled out of the woods only to attend the births of his grandchildren in Imladris and to escort his daughter to Mithlond when life became unbearable for her. Her departure had left him filled with sorrow yet he could not depart Middle-earth to follow Celebrian over sea. His heart told him, even had Galadriel's Mirror not, that his intervention would be required before the time of the elves was done.

And he could not leave Arwen while her doom was undecided.

Arda needed Lothlorien and the hidden refuge could not exist without its Lord, for while Galadriel wore the Ring of Water the Golden Wood had been growing long ages before Nenya's creation. The Galadhrim respected the Lady's foresight and magic, but their Lord was accepted as one of them, moriquendi, Teleri, born beneath the stars and amid the trees of Middle-earth. Celeborn the Wise was nothing less than their King in all but title. Whatever he asked of them, even should it be impossible to manage, yet would the Galadhrim find means to accomplish the task.

Celeborn kept his folk close, guarding the remainder of his people from the ills of Sauron's growing strength, concealing the numbers of Lothlorien's warriors, encouraging the misconception of the lofty Galadhrim hiding behind their shielded weald. A steady stream of cloaked and stealthy (Yet not too stealthy!) silvan wayfarers passed West to Imladris or the Grey Havens, seen by mortals and Sauron's spies alike, promoting the notion that the Galadhrim were abandoning Middle-earth in droves. If these same travellers were more secretive and went unremarked on their return journeys, that was no less than should be expected of Celeborn's messengers. Unlike the brash and bold Athedrainyn of Greenwood, Lorien's scouts and couriers relied on subterfuge and artifice to complete their perilous missions. It would not do to apprise Sauron of the might of Lothlorien's army too soon.

Still, the unprecedented charges arising from Mirkwood's ruler could not be ignored nor could the Lord of the Mellyrn Taur (Forest of Mallorn Trees) stand by and let such a fissure yawn betwixt the already estranged elven realms. The Darkness would have too sweet a triumph in gloating over that. Surely, the Wraiths had sent word to Mordor of the troubles stirring in the northern wilds. Thranduil's world seemed on the verge of collapse, an invitation for Sauron to reinforce the strength of Dol Guldur by taking the mountain stronghold. Thus, Celeborn deemed the moment had arrived to foster solidarity and in so doing direct the renegade Maia away from another force in the north rapidly increasing in stature and experience. For the Lord of the Golden Wood knew the identity of Isildur's Heir and his soul was already mourning the bond his grandchild would forge with this Man. (Thranduil has concocted a most appropriately complex distraction.)

Celeborn rode forth.

The company from Lothlorien was a sight to behold, glorious and grand, fearsome and majestic, enveloped in an aura of vibrant power and deadly purpose. Secrecy and stealth were abandoned and the Galadhrim were openly revealed as formidable foes of Darkness. The silvan archers were seated upon magnificent and deadly war-horses, four abreast in ranks of nine, tall-backed and proud, determination shining from their far-seeing eyes and resolve apparent in the set of their shoulders and their serious demeanour. No song fell from the grimly sealed lips nor did idle conversation break the silence of this troop. Only the resounding thunder of the stallions' hooves mingled with the jangling ring of the horses' mithril gaiters, for the steeds were bedecked after the fashion of Nirmë and Namië (Elladan and Elrohir's horses).

The warriors did not wear traditional grey elven travelling cloaks but capes of silver satin trimmed in a wide border of crimson, the colours of the Lord's House, for he was of the line of Thingol and a cousin to the fallen king. Some believed the red hue was meant as a mark of remembrance to all the life lost by the hands of Galadriel at Alqualonde, that her debt was forgiven yet not forgotten, but to this thought none dared give voice in Celeborn's presence.

Worthy war bows the Galadhrim bore across their shoulders and quivers full of bolts, fletched in green, yellow, red or brown, were strapped upon their backs. Their garments were not the soft unobtrusive colour of twilit mist worn beneath the Mellyrn's leaves but rather a distinctive combination of black leggings under tunics of pure white embroidered in silver. Over these, leather jerkins dyed darker than the depths of a starless night, embossed with the emblem of a Mallorn, protected vital organs. Their black leather boots were knee length and sturdy enough for long marches afoot, for the elves were prepared for any potential outcome. No helms covered the warriors' hair as it streamed in the wind of their passing, every shade from flaxen to coal displayed, nor did metal guard their bodies. They were content that elven senses would alert them of approaching danger long before harm could reach them, well within the range of their arrows.

Except for beribboned manes and the leg protection, the chargers permitted only a rope of hithlain round their whithers for toting two more bundles of arrows, a pack of provisions and a water-skin. This might seem a meagre kit to supply so dangerous a mission, but the elves planned to make use of the resources available along the route rather than encumber the horses with more baggage. Besides, the trip should take no more than five days, barring trouble, and six if they ran into Orcs.

Celeborn fully expected to encounter the foul creatures, for it was impossible to sneak past Dol Guldur, nor had he any intention of skulking by cringing in fear and dread. If the Galadhrim must leave their protected lands, then let the enemy cower, quaking and wary, wondering what warranted this unexpected foray into the wounded world, for the proud warriors did not present a trifling force.

Choices for the trek's itinerary were limited to three: straight across the Great River and under the eaves of Mirkwood, thence to force a way past Dol Guldur and reach the dwellings of the woodsmen and Thranduil's realm beyond. That was less an option than a demand for passage to Mandos. Or, the Galadhrim might travel north along the eastern borders of the forest following the River Running and thus to the Forest Road. Yet those lands were barren and sustenance for the stallions insufficient. Alternately, the host could traverse the broad valley of the Anduin past the Gladden Fields and enter the Sinda's lands at the Forest Gate. The last was the way agreed upon between the Lord, his Lady, and their Marchwarden, for should trouble seek them allies could be found among the woodsmen and the beornings.

The battalion numbered thirty-six and among the silvan folk of Lorien rode seven of the wayward soldiers decommissioned from the Greenwood's forces. Their citizenship had been revoked and they were to return to their native lands forthwith or depart for Valinor. Galadriel was not one to disregard the warning of her liquid oracle and had called these refugees in from their stations to face her questioning and bear her scrutiny.

Some fled rather than undergo this interrogation of the soul, fearful of the reprisals their guilty hearts would earn. These left Lorien and were met with never again by the Galadhrim. Of the remainder, two fell at once on their knees and pleaded mercy, revealing all they had witnessed of the Chastisement and the part they had played. This pair had truly repented for the peace of Lorien had worked a change within their hearts once removed from the influence of their Shadowed realm.

The last few denied fault and one was insolent enough to say it was expected for one kin-slayer to defend another. To this Galadriel had remarked that hands once bloodied would not fear to deepen the stain if cause was given. That elf thus regretted his hasty insult, for alone among his fellows he was sent away weaponless and must depend upon their friendship to defend him should need arise, for none of the Galadhrim would forgive the slur against their Lady. His comrades in crime were no comfort to him, for little honour was to be found among these twisted, bitter elves and they would each protect their own hides before aiding another.

After gleaning the disturbing reality of the Wood Elves practices, the Lord and Lady's objective in seeking audience with the Sinda King altered somewhat. Neither was as much concerned over alleviating Elrond's disgrace as they were determined to aid the cast off heir of the Woodland Realm. Elrond, after all, was an Elven Lord and had the entirety of Imladris to back and support him, as well as three adoring children that would never falter in defending him. Elrohir had put it succinctly: Legolas was alone.

Now Galadriel did not reveal any of these findings or the resultant decisions to Elladan and Elrohir. Had the brothers understood the combined information from her vision and the renegade Wood Elves, they would not have been denied the opportunity to accompany their grandfather and assist the outcast prince. To her husband she readily relayed all that her investigation yielded of Legolas' unfortunate circumstances, and Celeborn was no less shocked than she to discover such tortures enacted against an elf by his own people.

"The pestilence of Dol Guldur increases. My kinsman requires our help, even if he cannot perceive this of his own accord," the Lord remarked of Thranduil.

"It has been thus since the Last Alliance. I fear you will find the malady does not originate from the black spire of the Wraiths, my love." Galadriel countered sadly.

"What have you seen?"

"Nothing that you have not felt."

At these words Celeborn scowled but could not deny their truth. He had long worried over the increasingly xenophobic mood of the Sinda King and was fully aware of Thranduil's purported use of dark magic to govern his country. Like Glorfindel, Celeborn had come to hope that Ningloriel's departure would result in a new degree of stability for the woodland leader. The heralded birth of the new heir bespoke some movement along that encouraging path, yet the news of Legolas' vile treatment opposed the idea. Still, Celeborn was not one to allow assumptions and gossip to rule his thoughts, and he held his heart and mind open. He would let his cousin speak of these things before judgement was passed.

"What shall you do?" his wife enquired, following the trail of his thinking.

"The silvan folk are not foolish," Celeborn sighed. "I shall not intervene should they depose him, nor will I encourage any uprising. In these times it would be best for Thranduil to remain in command, for the strength of his warriors and his resolve against the Shadow are beyond question."

"But there is the matter of the Ring."

"Do you think it is there?" He knew she did not, nor did he. This was Saruman and Elrond's folly and sprang from their disregard of the Wood Elves and the view that Thranduil was incapable of fending off the power of Sauron for so long unaided.

"And Legolas?" Galadriel did not bother to answer her husband, shrugging to admit her agreement instead, and focused on the disinherited elf.

"Of this I cannot say, for to bring him here bodes ill for him, so your Mirror warns. We do not know what place he holds within these charges against Elrond or whether he is even aware of them. Legolas could be lost already, or far from aid within the wilds of the southern woods, or worse, prisoner in Dol Guldur.

"And if none of that is true and I find him within the stronghold, still I cannot impose my laws upon these people of the Greenwood. They are free and this is the way they have chosen. Shall I force them to give up customs that have been in place since the First Age? Shall Lorien extend her borders across the Anduin?"

"Nay." Galadriel shook her head and smiled. "I see what your heart desires and I pray you will succeed. If you do not, what then shall you do, my love?" She asked her husband again, for she was not about to let him pretend he had answered the question she had posed. Her cool blue eyes twinkled as they sought his serious stormy grey ones and were rewarded to watch them clear.

Celeborn's soft laughter flowed between them and he reached for her hand, carrying it to his lips and then against his cheek where he held it, smiling back.

"I will not fail. Surely you can sense my determination, Beloved! Go and check your precious Mirror if you doubt my resolve. I will have nothing less than Thranduil's acknowledgement of his first-born child." He chided with a shake of his head.

"Of course I would never doubt you! You are more stubborn than Elwë and Dior put together. Still, if Thranduil proves both harder of head and heart, then mayhap the archer would take refuge in Mithlond."

Celeborn snorted at her jibe and squeezed her fingers before letting them loose, his smile more serious and his eyes darkening with turmoil again.

"Yet, who is to say the young one is not most obstinate of all? He is half-Sinda and the half that is not sprang from the most intractable silvan inu I have ever met. I fear he will not willingly leave his Greenwood, not to seek safety for his person at any rate."

"Have you been dipping in my fountain?"

A hearty laugh followed this cheeky query and Celeborn swept his beloved into his arms. "I need not the waters of your Mirror to imagine the combination of Oropher's temperament and Ningloriel's rebellious determination! Indeed, Legolas must be strong to endure what has befallen him. I would salvage that elf; he is a worthy cousin regardless of the condemnation of the Judgement."

"Hmm. I am pleased to hear you say so, and must thank the trees for keeping you updated on their protector's status, even if you did not share it with me."

"Ai! I cannot help it if the Noldor lack the gift of speech with the forest. Besides, I had not need to reveal what you already knew."

"Nay. The Mirror does not show me what Legolas' future holds, and I fear your trees have only reported their worry and love, their insistence of the Wood Elf's innocence."

"It is true. The fact that they whisper of him always, however, is not insignificant," Celeborn's words were tinged in sorrow and frustration, for indeed the noble trees surrounding him had often begged assistance for the Greenwood's champion, and he had been bound to refuse.

"You have suffered," Galadriel was genuinely surprised. Her husband had hidden this well or she had been pre-occupied with Sauron's Ring (Both) and his concerns had slipped past her notice. "Unable to help a kinsman, one whom you felt both in need and wronged by his own. Gohenna nin."

"Sîdh, there is nothing you could have done that would not entail posing an objection to their sovereign laws. In Thranduil's mind, that would be equivalent to an act of aggression. Even he does not interfere with their belief system."

"Oh, but he manipulates it when it suits him," she growled. "How does he count that right and this enslavement?" She held up Nenya and the flash within the stone matched the spark deep in the Lady's cerulean gaze.

Celeborn merely raised his brows askance and she relented. It was an argument he simply refused to enjoin with her, as there was no resolution possible. He was not Thranduil nor could he control the Sinda King. The fact that some part of her wished to do so, Celeborn would not countenance discussing. Thus the topic dropped and the couple spent no more time worrying on the journey ahead, relishing the hours remaining between them against the separation the dawn would bring.

At minuial the entourage threaded single file among the towering trees to the ford of the Nimrodel, the pace no more than a lazy jog, and the first encampment found them on the opposite bank of the Great River under the oblique glare of the Wraith's citadel. The break was for the benefit of the horses, for the next leg would demand a hard gallop for many hours to get them to the Gladden Fields.

No rest did the warriors take that night, for the site of so bold a company of armed elves was certain to entice Mordor's servants from their pinnacle of dread. The assault came two hours after sundown and the Galadhrim fired arrow after arrow into the advancing glamhoth until the grey glimmer of Arien's advent tinged the air. The vile demons were forced to retreat under the shaded canopy of their dark woods.

It came as no surprise to Celeborn when Haldir reported the desertion of the unrepentant renegades sometime during the evening.

They mounted and set a gruelling pace. By annûn (sunset) on the second day, while Elladan and Elrohir stood by the study door waiting for their father to unlock his heart, the Galadhrim made camp at the crux of the reed-choked River Gladden with its wide, shallow wetlands and the sluggish Anduin.

The elves took the offensive and made the first strike of the anticipated fight, entering under the eaves of the woods to aid the small colony of humans dwelling there. A fourth of his troops Haldir left to safeguard a merchant's caravan set up for trade with the beornings and the woodsmen. The remainder joined forces with the able Men, who were discovered to be inexplicably competent archers and sword fighters, though their gear was coarse and their blades no doubt gleaned from fallen foes in battles past. The combined assault scattered the Orcs and the Galadhrim heard for the first time the agonised screams of the victims of Legolas' traps.

Not a single casualty resulted among the impromptu allies thanks to the silvan archers.

The woodsmen shook the solemn elves' hands warmly in gratitude and astonished Celeborn by demanding to include two of their citizens, veterans of Erebor that immigrated from Laketown thereafter, within the First-born's delegation. They wished to speak out at their atheling's trial and help to lift the ban. The good people assumed this to be the reason for such a formidable platoon of foreign elves to enter the Greenwood, a thing never seen in any of their lifetimes. The hearing was news to the noble Lord and he agreed readily once the identity of their prince was made clear. Celeborn was more eager than before to hasten his journey's completion.

Yet a greater shock awaited the elven Lord's return to his encampment, for there his warriors had fought a fierce battle that had included two of the Wraiths. That was not so unexpected, but the merchant's participation in the skirmish, along with his entire entourage, was. These were dwarves from the Iron Mountains and not since Erebor had they fought alongside the First-born.

For the Galadhrim the experience was even further removed in remembrance, the battles for Eregion being the last time the silvan folk of the Golden Wood had shared the same side as the Naugrim. The memory of the demon loosed from Moria was nearer and if their appreciation of these unexpected allies was a bit grudging, that was an instinctive response. Logically, the elves understood that the Balrog's release had been unintentional, yet their hearts still grieved for loved ones lost to the aftermath of dwarven greed. But they kept silent on this, following the example of their Lord, and if the elves were distant and cool towards their new comrades, the mortals could not deem it other than the natural manner of the eldar.

The dwarves were eager to relate the encounter with Sauron's minions and everyone who had not been there gathered close to listen.

"The Lesser Evils," intoned one of the woodsmen with a grim nod that his fellow mimicked as the merchants shared their tale. But the elves were perplexed.

"What is that?" Haldir looked from one Man to the other, finally resting his sight on Celeborn, who shrugged.

"Bloody Wraiths!" bellowed the merchant, shaking his mattock at the sky. He murmured something in his own tongue, which made his cohorts laugh, and spat.

Haldir bristled, suspecting the remark was probably something along the lines of 'ignorant tree rats', but held his peace when Celeborn firmly placed a hand upon his shoulder, a huge forced smile adorning his features. The Marchwarden imitated the fixed expression and returned attention to the conversation.

"Aye, that is how our Tawarwaith calls them," added the other forest dweller.

"Shadow-slaves, can't come out one without the other and only run about at the Chief's orders. Tirno almost had that one's Ring off, by Varda!" the first chortled delightedly.

"That sounds like a tale worthy of telling," Celeborn grinned as many of his comrades voiced agreement, for they had found the dwarven fighters worthy and it just felt right, all of them being free folk, to be standing together against the Shadow's advance.

But Haldir was not enamoured of the notion of actually sharing their camp and their food with these representatives of Durin's race, regardless of their valorous participation in the fighting. He scowled.

"First, I would hear from whence you folk of Aulë originate. Are you kin to the Naugrim of Moria?" he demanded.

A tension immediately filled the air and in the silence surrounding it the consistent chirping of frogs in the meers behind them became pronounced. Subtly, the elves separated themselves from the five dwarves and the two humans edged away from the confrontation.

The representatives of Aulë's children drew closer together, sharing serious expressions. They conversed quietly among themselves in their secret speech for a moment and then the eldest stepped forward.

"I am Brôr daughter of Grôr, at your service," she stated formally and bowed low. "My grandfather was Frôr, third cousin to Ders who was wife to Kref, a resident of Khazadum. These two are my younger brothers, Treg and Tuhm." As she spoke their names each one bounced forward and bowed with an 'at your service'. Treg was the one with the mattock. "Here is Brêh my son and his wife Masz.

"We hail from the place known to you as the Blue Mountains and have for long years dwelled amid Dain's folk in the Iron Mountains. Never have any of us lived in Moria, nor did any of my kin delve the deeps therein. Yet, if you have grievance against Durin's Race for the tragedy of that time, know that our losses were greater than the immortals'."

On hearing this Haldir was angry, for nothing could be more severe than the deaths of the First-born at the unleashing of the Balrog, among whom his parents were numbered. Before he could speak, Celeborn intervened.

"Shall we compare the destruction of one realm against another, counting up hurts and deaths while the true culprit sits back and delights in our foolishness?" he demanded quietly. His eyes met each of the dwarves in turn and they could not hold so stern a gaze, though it was neither accusing nor threatening. "Nay, we stand here in this place where once evil stole away victory from the free folk just as we had claimed it, and at terrible price." The Men averted their eyes now, for it was of Isildur the immortal spoke. "Let us not repeat the error, for we have once more bested the Darkness this night, small though the numbers defeated were. We shall not fight one another nor argue over wrongs this same evil has foisted upon us by treachery and lies."

And Haldir lowered his angry visage, for it was true the elves had inadvertently aided Sauron also, even if those were not silvan people but Noldor. Everyone was loath to speak after the Lord's words, and the Marchwarden realised they were waiting for his response. He grimaced, for he had brought this on himself, lifted his head and sighed, sharing with Celeborn a rueful expression of mirthless self-mockery. He was suddenly quite glad his brothers were not present to witness his humiliation. The Lorien warrior drew a deep breath.

"Lord Celeborn is justly called wise. I am pleased to offer gratitude for the assistance of the axes of Durin's folk this night," he managed to say the words smoothly and made a dignified half-bow as well.

It was enough. The dwarves nodded acceptance and the Men exhaled mightily, a heartfelt 'Thank Elbereth!' whispered into the air brought a sprinkle of chuckles from both elves and dwarves. The unusual assembly settled down around the campfire for the remaining hours of night. The merchants shared a cask of ale and the First-born quickly secured a buck to roast and soon the humble meal was underway. The Galadhrim heard the whole story of the Day of the Heaving Ground and how Tirno had faced down the Master of Dol Guldur, wounded and with but a single arrow to shoot.

As it turned out, Treg and Tuhm had been at Erebor and knew the humans well, and likewise demanded to join in the party once the destination and purpose were known. That Celeborn found incomprehensible.

"I am not certain if that is wise," he stated. "Why would you wish to participate in this hearing? The Wood Elves have not been friendly to your people for many centuries."

"You were not at Erebor. The Wood Elves as a lot maybe are not much use to us. However, this particular warrior showed skill and acted honourably," said Treg evasively.

"You mean he gives you the chance to embarrass Thranduil in his own court!" laughed one of the woodsmen, shaking his head.

"Aye, you will back anyone who opposes the Wood Elves' King," agreed the other but he did not find humour in the thought. He was already caught between the Wraiths and the Wood Elves and had no desire to add dwarves to the mix.

"It is a dangerous game, baiting Thranduil," cautioned Celeborn. "I will not bring any with me that might jeopardise my goal. Your revenge upon the Sinda Lord will needs be done without my protection."

"What is your goal, noble Lord?" queried Tuhm. "Mine is not to seek revenge, for though Thorin was King under the Mountain I know also that much the dragon stole once belonged to Thranduil. I did not go to Erebor to dispute over gold and would have agreed willingly to terms with the Men and elves."

"Truly? Forgive me if I seem sceptical of your goodwill, Master Tuhm," intoned Celeborn dryly. "Yet I will share my hope with you nonetheless. The warrior we are discussing is Thranduil's son and I intend to reunite them. It does not serve our people for Greenwood to fall to Darkness, and Legolas' disgrace has divided the woodland folk."

"Other stories abound concerning the elf's sire," commented Treg indelicately and Haldir shot him a deadly glare.

"Of which we care not," Brôr hastened to add.

"The point being he is a worthy warrior and should be honoured as such," Tuhm continued and gave his brother a warning scowl.

Tales of the Woodland King's former dealings among dwarves were legend, and not a few had made nice fortunes trading with the Sinda Lord in centuries past. It was the profit to be had that sparked Tuhm's interest. As a merchant of jewels and metalworking, he must use the woodsmen as his distributors, selling to them what the Wood Elves needed. The humans then re-sold the goods and kept the profits. The dwarf to reopen commerce with Thranduil directly would become wealthy indeed.

"And it would not benefit Durin's folk for Mirkwood to become even darker than it is," he concluded.

"Aye, the Wood Elves keep Sauron's attention from turning to the Iron Mountains," sneered Haldir.

"And from Lorien," countered Treg.

"Far! Enough!" Celeborn's voice rose just enough to command silence. He reflected on this unusual request of the Naugrim, yet could not find good cause to allow them to take part in his enterprise. The dwarf was not lying but he was not revealing his true purpose completely. The woodsmen's case was different, for Mirkwood was their home and they openly claimed Legolas as their prince. Celeborn shook his head and frowned.

"Nay, I cannot sanction your entry to the Woodland Realm for I am not the Lord of those lands. Should you come under the eaves you will be at Thranduil's mercy. Only upon the Forest Road may the Naugrim pass through the Greenwood; this you know.

"No messenger have you sent nor heralds nor emissaries from your King to beg audience with the Elven Ruler. Your presence would add instability to an already volatile situation. I will not take you into my company." He rose from his place by the fire and pulled Haldir along with him, and the dwarves understood the subject was closed.

The merchants were not angry, for it had been but a chance encounter and there was nothing at stake or honour sullied by the refusal. The Lord of Lorien's reasons were logical and the dwarves accepted the denial with minimal grumbling, settling down to sleep as the last hour of Ithil's tour commenced. The elves had departed before they woke.

Tbc.

Reviews:

Louise_oblique: you are the best to review so often! Thank you!

Thalionwen: oh thank you for the review! Yes, if Elrond ever gets the nerve to bring it up, then his sons might understand him better. I do want Elrond to be redeemed, strange as that might seem. At least enough to make his part in the Ring quest believable.

Jasmine: thanks for reviewing! Yes, Elrond finally summons up the gumption to admit his real feelings, only when he sees that Elrohir is going to decamp. The twins have a little more to do in this story, as they are playing the role of Elrond's conscience, so they will have thoughts together regarding the final evens of this little drama. I am glad you like how they are portrayed here!

Kryspen: thank you so much! I did not want the twins to let him off the hook too easily and I am glad you approve! Your compliments are head-swelling!

Cesca: thank you! Glad you are still reading and enjoying! It is really hard to admit things like this, and even though Elrond was forced to do it and still hasn't completely turned around, he has made a beginning. Now he will either continue on the path or balk again, as he did after his talk with Glorfindel. Much scarier to risk losing his sons, though, than Glorfindel's friendship.

Shelly: Thank you! Elrond has certainly caused a lot of strife. Too bad he didn't think about any of this before he acted out his sick little fantasy. He thought Legolas was someone no one cared about, once Ningloriel was gone. Erestor has turned out nicely, I agree.

MourningElectra: Thank you so much for such supportive encouragement! I am sorry I have been a bit slow in posting lately. The holidays are stressful times. I will try to do better!
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Feud