Naerwen's brows raised further as Morfindien held her hand firmly. Again a strange feeling ran through her. She tried to place it somewhere, liken it to a familiar feeling, but nothing sprang to mind. Even gazing into Durion's eyes, she did not have this feeling. Naerwen, extremely flustered, blinked and gazed around at the members in the room. Her jaw nearly hit the floor at Morfindien's comment. "My lord Morfindien, please..." she looked up to him, her voice pleading. It was clear that he was hurt and this was the only way he could seek to lessen the pain. However, she could not stand by and watch another of her companions being torn down. Nostariel was suffering enough without it being added to by insults. "He...he does not mean that Nostariel." Naerwen hastened to say. Her eyes fell to Rhavaniel, her bottom lip quivering slightly. Naerwen did not know Rhavaniel well, but she knew off her husband. From what she could understand he was a valiant, couragous man. She could see Rhavaniel's mind turning Morfindien's statement over in her mind, finding the underlying meaning in them. The pain on Naerwen's face mirrored the pain on Rhavaniel's. Before Naerwen could offer any word of comfort Rhavaniel stormed out leaving a pile of plaster in her wake.

Naerwen stared at it for a moment. With a sigh, she disentangled herself from Morfindien and dropped down to her knees, hitching her dress up as she did so. There was a brush and pan within reach, so she grabbed for them and began sweeping up the debris. So much emotional turmoil in this room and yet, she was sure there was more to come. What blow would they be dealt next?

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Durion's brows raised in surprise at his companion's words. He wiped the look off his face before it could be seen. Clearly he was making more of an impression apon Locien than he had thought. "That is right, my brother," he spoke softly, gentle. He spoke as though the thought of losing his kin was a dreadful blow. "It is a shame to lose so many friends, but in the end it will be for the best." He straightened and turned around. Before his very eyes stood the new Dark Tower. It was taller than the last. Wall upon wall and battlement upon battlement protected this new tower. "Come, let us retire for this evening. I have imported some of Middle Earth's most fine wines and food. Tonight we celebrate the birth of the new Barad-dur!" He grinned broadly.

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(Yay! It's Bilbo and Frodo's birthday today! )

Nostariel's eyes flashed again at his comment.
"Yes, broken I may be, yet is it not said that the broken bone once mended is twice as strong as before? At least my sorrow has not curdled my heart with the bitterness that yours seems to possess!" As Rhavaniel fled the room, Nostariel took a deep breath to calm herself before she said anything else that she would soon regret. The pain that had lain docile for a long while now reared its ugly head making her vision blur. She knew something was not quite right with her body, but she also knew that the pain was something she would most likely have to bear for eternity; she pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand while the other clung tightly to the bedpost beside her. Naerwen's attention to the plaster that had fallen to the floor finally seeped the last of the anger from Nostariel's body.
"M'lady Naerwen, there is no need for you to do that." She gently took the pan from her friend and clasped her hand in her's--raising her from the floor. Then she returned her gaze to the Duke.
"I apologize for my harsh words, M'lord Morfindien, I have no desire for war between our families, especially now that we should band together against the growing threat of the enemy. I have never been one for politics, but this much I do know: if the people of Middle Earth do not unite to protect our world, we will lose it. And in the end, it will matter not who is at fault for we would all dwell in shadow and there will be nothing left at all for elves, men, dwarfs, hobbits, or anyone else." She felt drained and sat on the edge on the bed, not caring if she was breaking the protocal of the court by doing so.
"I had hoped," she began softly,"to spend eternity with the man I loved, but it was not to be. Do not make me lose hope altogether; do you not see that if we lose hope, we lose everything?" A single tear coursed down Nostariel's cheek, but it was not for Ruscien.

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Zirakzigil ai menu Duzhuk! Zirakzigil, at your service!
[~^!?]

((Sorry it's been a few days - darn school! =p))

Evelyn leand on the balcony rail for support, inhailing deeply, though she still retained her elvin grace and pride as she stood tall, the latter of which she feard was slowly diminishing. "Help me, my lady!" She cried out in the elven toung, "I only wished to do yoru will!" Evelyn slumped, hearing the sound of her silly words, yet from her heart they were. Foolish it seemed, to do the will of a master that was now in another relm. But it was what She had come to know. Her purpose, surving others. But what was Galadrial's will? Evelin took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It is to help middle earth in her stead. Elsewise she would not have passed on her...skills to me. Evelyn again looked down at Nenya's briliance, only visable to herself. Yet, she knew that was not the only thing passed to her. For centuries, Galadrial had taken her under her wing, taught her, and regared her as as family. It could not be for naught - she knew Evelyn's heart - that she would want to stay in middle earth, even after Galadrial had left.

Evelyn breathed deeply, reminding herself of her purpose. She knew she was one of the oldest elves here, in Aragron's halls, the eception of Legolas. Even then, she was young by elf standards. Yet some have responsibility thrust on them...with much power comes responsiblity... Evelyn gazed down at her hand again. She closed her eyes, painfully. She had thought after all these years, she would not let Morfindien get to her. But alas, it was not so. She was ptudent in wisdom, and a strong fighter, but her heart had always been vaunrable, to all. Perhaps that was what made her dedicated. But still...Morfindien's hate for her was his own doing - yet there was fault in it for her, she knew. But what was she thinking? Was it hate? Or hurt. Evelyn knew enough about him, nay about all beings to know the two were often confused.

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((Okay, I'm back! Hurray for a proper internet connection!))


Locien still flinched when he looked at the great fortress of Baradûr. He could not heko it, it was encoded into every cell in his body, but he felt a sense of purpose too, knowing that it would be instrumental in changing the world.
Once the Master had trusted him enough, he had been left to his own devices, able to command fresh food and water- A small garden with an oak, now old and gnarled, but still living. Running water, even if it was tainted. It was fit for an elf and balsam on the wounds that living with iron and fire inflicted on his mind and body, even though it had been concieved as a cage to keep the Master's- Experiments in.

He looked to Durion as they sat under the old tree, once but a sapling in barren earth and smiled. The high walls seemed less like prison walls and more like a type of new fangled art to him now. He was quite happy, a figure of undeniable authority amongst the lesser orcs and goblins.

The sky was black and tinged with red, but he had had candles and flames brought out. It was his sanctuary now and he was happy to share with his companion as they wined and dined on Arda's finest.

"You are to be commended, my friend," Locien sighed as he leant back to regard the sky "I have not thought to arrange for food like that in years."

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Morfindien watched Naerwen kneeling on the floor: "I'll speak my mind, mylady," he said quietly "I have earned that right by now," as she was helped to her feet he turned on Nostariel, his voice icy cold "Perhaps if you knew your kingdom's history, madam you would not be so quick to judge me, madam. I have lost all my hope- In fact, I am not sure I was ever blessed with such an irrational notion. I will not stand for another slight to myself or my family. I have paid the price of your grandfather's death for neigh two millennia now, I will do so no more."

He stepped to the door and opened it softly "Do you not know that a man who has lost everything as nothing left to loose?," he asked with raised brows.
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Rhavaniel slowed her pace as she entered a lesser used part of Gondor's palace. It was darker here, and cooler. She passed through an archway and stood for a minute, leaning against the cold stone. Her pulse slowed to a steady beat, her breathing returned to normal. She held her eyes closed and felt her mind slipping back to happier days, before the Last Alliance.

He had always been dashing, people that knew him had commented that he had abandoned his singing of ancient heros to try and become one- Even though they knew it had not been his choice. Locien, they called him, Dragon, and described his prowess to mortals using the same likeness. He had always been a careful hoarder of the gold he earned, fighting ferociously and resting dangerously after battle. His skin was cool to the touch and could not be pierced by any mortal blade; They proclaimed his voice to be hypnotic and his manners impeccable. He had an appetite, or so it was said, that was insatiable.
He had laughed loudly once the rumors had made their way back to him, commenting only that his father would have been proud. As a teller of tales, he knew what he could sell as true.

It had been a black night almost two years into his stay at the royal palace when he had met Morfindien, the heir to the Northern Dukedom. They had become firm friends on account of similar habits; both had always enjoyed a cup of the best elvish wine in the evening hours after the banqueting hall had been cleared and most were on their way to bed- It helped them clear their minds of the day's events and give them insight into what had happened. On one such occasion they had fell into conversation and their friendship had blossomed from that.
Even though Locien had not come from a wealthy family he had a type of rougish charm that only the unfortunate have and was quickly able to worm his way into the hearts and minds of any who stood in his path. The Duke's son had cottoned on to that and together they were able to fill their coffers and gain quite a reputation.

And then she had been introduced to him. Rhavaniel's heart still sang out when she thought of the moment that their eyes had met for the first time. She had been the new highly decorated Field Marshal of Oropher's army, he had been newly promoted to direct the king's hunters on their merry ways. He had bowed to her and she had laughed at him, telling him that she deserved no such courtesy. He had made a smooth comment a two and she had been blushing, not used to compliments other than on her archery. They had dallied for a while and then she had left abruptly, unhappy with what she felt he saw in her. He had a reputation for gathering and keeping things he felt were rare and beautiful and she was less than pleased that he should see her as one of the maidens that would fall to his feet at a glance.
And yet he had not given up, but pursued her faithfully for many a long year until her defenses had finally worn down enough for them to consider each other friends, then lovers and finally husband and wife. He was charming and witty and she was wild and unpredictable, but they made a couple such as only heaven and hell could make, learning from each other and expanding wherever they could.
Her older brother had slowly but surely been forced out of the picture, for they did not need him any more. He had lost a soulmate the day he had introduced his best friend to his younger sister, and the knowledge of his own failure to keep something he himself had coveted, a true friend, had scarred him in the face of his parent's departure to Valinor and his new obligations. They had remained civil to one another, but Locien knew the new would never happily see his sister married to a lowly general such as himself.
Over the years they had grown colder towards each other, living their lives in different directions.

She opened her eyes with a start as a raven landed a little way away on the balcony to her left. It looked at her for a moment, judging her threat, then hopped along they floor picking at whatever had been left there.
She heard a voice around the corner pleading for guidance and she ventured forwards carefully, touching her cheeks to see that they were dry: "Eve?"



Wow... Thats much more than I thought!

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Naerwen allowed herself to be raised to her feet. Her head pounded incredulously as the stress of the situation crashed over her in waves. If this was how she felt she could not imagine how those more involved felt. With a steadying breath she looked to Nostariel. "Thank you," she said softly, dusting the dirt from her white skirt. She listened intently to Nostariel's worlds, realising the grave truth in them. Her head nodded in agreement at every word Nostariel spoke. Naerwen hovered beside her companion. When she noticed a tear trail down Nostariel's cheek, she laid a hand on her shoulder. "There, there Nostariel. There is always hope."

Her head raised from her friend to Morfindien as he spoke. "Forgive me my lord, I only wish to soothe. Enough pain has been caused to both of you," she fixed Morfindien and Nostariel with a pleading look. "Can we not band together and find out what is going on. Clearly King Thranduil is not himself. What has happened is not in his nature. Clearly there is something strange going on. It is our job to deal with it and solve it as soon as we can." Naerwen began to pace, almost in a nervous nature. "I have been thinking about the disappearances we spoke of before. My friend, also disappeared, a very long time ago. His name was Durion Noruas. Have any of you heard of him? I know his mother is very worried. I also fear she knows more than what she has told me." Naerwen grimaced slightly, wishing she had pursued this line of investigation further. It seemed the wounds were to fresh to press further though.

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A figure stumbled through the sanctions of the white city. They were heavily shrouded in a torn cloak. It was also heavily blood stained. The figure was wounded badly and yet they pushed on. Soon they came across to women. One was pleading for help and the other had seemed lost in a better more happier world. "Please," the figure croaked to them. The figure swayed on their feet. A frail hand reached up to her face and pushed back her hood. "My name is Nessa Narmolanya. I have much to tell Lord Aragorn. I fear I am too late..." her voice trailed off as intense pain scrawled across her face. In the next second she was on the ground, trembling weakly as she whimpered in agony into her hands.

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"Only the best for my friends," Durion smiled softly as he tipped a glass of wine to his friend before drinking from it. He cast his mind to the companions he had left behind. Many had been mere accqaintances. There was one, however, that stood out from them all. Naerwen Dorthonion was her name. He knew she had had stronger feelings towards him than he had for her. Still she made a good companion on his troubles. She had such a gentle nature, but she was stubborn too. It would be difficult to bring her round to his way of thinking, but then again she would be no loss to him. This mission was more important to him than any woman would ever be. He drew out a large, round stone from his pocket. He waved his hand over it. "Show me Gondor." Durion commanded. The stone flashed into life. Osgiliath came into view. The men continued to fight of his fleets. "This will need to be dealt with soon, Locien. We cannot afford to lose numbers. I fear we will need them. The men will prove to be stubborn. They will not accept the new life easily." Minas Tirith came into view next. It seemed there had been no action taken yet. This pleased Durion. The men were, at least, still clueless as to his existence. "We will need to turn our attention to the men soon," he murmured, his eyes narrowed. He placed the palantir back into his pocket. "That can be arranged for tomorrow. For now we rest." He tilted his head back to the black sky, a smile of pleasure on his face.

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Evelyn's head snapped to the left. "Rhavaniel!" She quickly turned her face away, making sure her cheeks were dry. As she turned back to Rhavaniel, there were no tears on her face, but her eyes were bright and glassy. She seems slightly flusterd. "Forgive me, I forgot the lateness of the hour."

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~Just re-read my post and I wasn't sure if it was clear that the figure was approaching two* women and those women were Rhavaniel and Evelyn. I really do need to start spell checking my posts before I send them.

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^^

Rhavaniel felt a crooked smile appear on her lips and she stepped forward gingerly "I did not mean to startle you, Eve," she said quietly "We are old enough that we should not be bothered by curfews," She did not miss the hurt expression hiding in her friends eyes, nor the way they glistend in the light."Look," she started- She knew who had upset the Lorien elf beyond a doubt;"My brother-" her brother what? She had no words to speak in Morfindien's defense, so she let her voice trail off.
In that moment her ears twitched and out of habit she turned with a hand on the knife in her belt. What she saw brought back memories of a far harder way of life.
She moved forward to catch the figure and felt the wetness of her cloak, heard the words she spoke with sudden attention:"Nessa," she spoke quickly "You will be fine, you are in safe hands, we are friends of Aragorn,"her voice was soft, but layered with steel. It belied years beyond measure of life in battle; it demanded the information lest it be lost in the face of injury. "You are not to late, Nessa Narmolanya, so we may send word to him immediately," she angled the face of the woman towards her so she could look into her eyes "Trust me."

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Morfindien listend to Naerwen speak but didn't answer immediately. He took a moment to compose himself and the firestorm of emotions that were colliding inside of him. He still could not believe what he had spat at Nostariel a few moments before- In front of his sister. Locien's face danced before his eyes, laughing at his distress.
He had been mortified to discover that his best friends had been seeing his sister behind his back, but the court's new Golden Boy had simply laughed off his anger and clapped him on the back. After a few moments he had been laughing too, but the laughter had never reached his eyes, not when Thranduil was laughing too. The then-prince had known about the relationship for a while and was pleased to see his rival so upset.
And his dear sister... His mind froze and he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. With a start he was back in the room, staring at Naerwen.
"I...," he could not find the words he needed.
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"We rest," Locien agreed, inhaling the smell of the dull grass and dying oak. Soon he would be able to rest under the pure trees of the west, where he would not have to ask for especially filtered water so as to keep his sanctuary living.
The stars above him were marred every now and again by smoke from the pits below the great tower, but when he had a clear view he found himself thinking of home and the life he had left behind.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Evelyn exhaild, the words of her friend relaxing her, taking all the poisin in her mind and extracting it. The encouragment, along with some more of her nicknames, made her remember she was not suppose to be all powerfull, all knowing. Evelyn met Rhavaniel's eyes. "Thanks you." she said, with a small smile. "But it is not myself i worry about - but this city, middle earth!" Evelyn moved from foot to foot, "I can't just sit here...i need to DO something..." she confided, her idea from earlier coming to her mind.

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Durion nodded to his companion, his eyes closing. The peace that fell over him like a blanket, however, did not last. An orc came scrambling to the two of them. His knarled hands knotted themselves in front of him with nerves. "My lord?" He asked, his tremblings echoing into his voice. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for prying eyes and ears. When he was sure there was none, he looked back to Durion. Durion glared at the orc, with his brow raised. "What is it?" He hissed sharply. "Our guest has left us," the orc answered, his eyes flashing to Locien. Durion's eyes widened. "Left? Left!" His nostrils flared with anger. "Excuse us, Locien. I have business to attend to." He stood up abruptly, grabbing the orcs arm and hurling him into the black tower.

"What do you mean she has left? How?" He demanded from the orc once inside the tower. "How could you let her get away?"
"We tried to stop her, but she fought us off my lord. She was very strong."
"When did this happen?"
"A few days ago my lord." The orc raised his arms to cover his head, knowing his master would be infuriated by this news.
"What?!" He bellowed, striking the orc hard. "And you are only telling me about this now?"
"You were busy my lord..." The orc stammered between screeches of pain.
"You had better hope the wilderness caught her or it will your head for it." Durion struck the orc once more before storming out of the tower, fists clenched at his sides.

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Nessa shied away from Rhavaniel's touch, her eyes darting between her and Evelyn. Long had it been since she had laid eyes upon her kin. Dark had been her vision of late. She longed to trust them, the former's voice was so soothing and welcoming, still after what she had been through. She cut that line of thought short, a slight shudder running through her. What more could she lose? When she next spoke, her voice was a low whisper. Her steely grey eyes met Rhavaniel's "I know who you fight against. I know of his plan. There is no time to..." Her eyes went blank before rolling back into her head. Nessa fainted in Rhavaniel's arms exhausted from her beating and exhausted from her long journey.

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Naerwen let the silence of the room shatter at her feet as she paced. Nessa had been a wise and strong woman. Naerwen had always admired her for bringing up her son on her own. For the most part she had done a good job. Still there were things no boy could learn from his mother, for those things he needed his father. Nessa was very beautiful, but stubborn. No man had yet melted her frozen heart. Naerwen assumed it had simply froze when Durion's father left her on her own to raise his child. Off course she never questioned Nessa on this, it simply was not propper to do so. It had been a long time since Naerwen had heard from Nessa and an even longer time since she had laid eyes upon her. This worried her deeply.

With a shake of her head Naerwen snapped out of her reveries and turned to face Morfindien. "I," he had started with, but never finished his sentence. He seemed ill or on the verge of tears. It was clear to Naerwen that he was stressed. She crossed over to him and helped him into a chair. "It will be alright my lord Morfindien. I will personally see to that." Her voice was strong with determination. She had came to the end of her tether and simply wanted the good days back, if that was at all possible. Without thought, her hand came to settle on Morfindien's shoulder, not to restrain, but to reassure.

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(Sorry all, I've been really sick for the past week with allergy stuff and kept forgetting to post. )

Nostariel watched as Naerwen settled Morfindien into a seat wondering what could have shattered the hostility that had been there in the Duke's eyes only moments ago.
Probably just the same thing that ails us all, she thought, mulling over the mess that neither she, nor Rhavaniel had created...even her father and Morfindien were innocent. She wondered how it had all come to this; all she had done was love a man and that simple fact threw her into the middle of the chaos.
It's all Grandfather's fault, she raged withing herself, he is the one who created all this misery! I cannot believe the nerve of him!
She felt like punching a hole in the wall, but knew better than to try her fist on the stone of the chamber.
"What is happening to us all?" She muttered under her breath. It was as if there was a brooding anger lingering in the room, turning would-be-friends into deadly enemies; she did not understand it, wanted to be rid of it, but also desired to know why the darkness was growing again. Sighing, she raised herself from her melancholia.
"M'lord, has there been any word about the growing shadow that you have heard? I have been long away from the cities and towns fighting orcs, yet I have found no answers to their numbers. The bands of maruaders seems to multiply daily."

_________________
Zirakzigil ai menu Duzhuk! Zirakzigil, at your service!
[~^!?]

No worries Hope you're feeling better!

Morfindien sat and stared blankly ahead. What was happening to him? It was as if over two-thousand years of strife had suddenly caught up with him and made it hard to speak. He did know how to solve this crisis any more than Naerwen or Nostariel and yet here he was, accountable as the King. He had thought himself free of demons, yet clearly they still resided inside of him.
Naerwen's hand was warm on his shoulder and he closed his eyes a moment, trying to imagine what life may have held in store for him if he had ever loved, or allowed passion into his heart. He would be wed by now, he mused detachedly, perhaps he would have grandchildren at his feet- or at least children. And then again... Rhavaniel had wed and she was childless. Her twin had never settled either. Maybe it was the curse of his family to walk through time alone. He felt so old now, looking at Nostariel, Thranduil's grandchild. And yet it was not as if the Duke had never loved, yet his mortal lovers long dead and gone, his immortal companions had never stayed with him for very long. He had grown bored with them, preferring those whose life had a set span of years. It made living easier- Grudges were not held for nearly as long; courtship was quicker and more fiery. It was as if mortals lived every day as if it was their last.

The Duke turned his icy blue eyes up so as to look at Naerwen and said nothing. He could not harm another elleth by promising things he could not hold. He did not comment on her hand, but steadied his voice as he spoke to Nostariel.
"We have been fighting with a darkness emanating from Dol Guldur for a while now. Our scouts disappear from the forest roads and trade is at an all time low," a cynical smile crept onto his features "Who will buy from a King who cannot guarantee the arrival of his goods?" The smile slid off his face and he straightened his back "My dukedom lies slightly closer to Dol Guldur- I am curiously blessed that I still receive my goods and that my Hunters seem to be spared more often than not. Perhaps they expect trouble... I cannot explain it- Mayhap what is growing has made its nest in the mountains that divide our forest, but I cannot vouch for that information. Maybe I have been lucky so far,"he shrugged "Whoever is responsible- It is no mere man and certainly no orc. The attacks carried out are systematic and thorough. Someone has had years to plan this out."
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Locien rose as Durion did, and inclined his head as his companion left. The way the orc had looked at him personally set his teeth on edge and yet he was quite calm. He did know what business Durion had that he did know about, but if that was the way the Master wished to work things... His thoughts trailed off as he moved towards the only crack in the elevated courtyard-walls and peered out into the reddish glow of the night that lay across Mordor. The ground was far beneath him and always cast into the shadow of the tower behind him.

I wonder how much torture and mutilation it would take to turn you into an orc? That's how you do it, isn't it? I do not know, he had answered truthfully, his mouth full of blood and dirt. He had thought to know that he could pass into Mandos' Halls once death neared, but the cloaked figure that had visited him in his hole had worked magic unknown to him. And he had lived on broken for what he assumed must have been years.

The Master had been younger once, Locien mused, more prone to use violence than persuasion. Unknowing, having gathered only snippets of conversations and legends. Memories of that time flooded his mind as his keen elven eyes caught sight of what had once been a deep pit- What had once been his home. Where he had been kept.
And now? Walled in? Did he feel freer? Locien smoothed back the long strands of blond hair that strayed into his face. Yes. He could wander these lands as he wished, though the earth was poisoned and the waters bracken. He was a free elf with the Masters complete trust.
As Durion returned, he moved his body to face the highly stressed elf and offered a small smile. He would find out soon enough what he was up to. He remembered when he too had made mistakes, hidden things and lied to complete errands.

"What cheer, brother?" he asked "You must teach them to see you as their pack-leader," Locien allowed himself a slightly wider smile, one that warned that he would know quite soon what misdemeanors Durion had caused. A dangerous smile that showed the many years he had spent learning the ways of the Masters servants had paid off: "If you were to implement your way into their society their fear for you will guarantee they'll speak secrets to you they would perhaps not tell the Master."

Locien moved forwards as if to strike, his voice lethal: "I advise you to spill your secret to me now, and save yourself the trouble of me explaining to him that the filth still disobeys you. For mark my words, Durion, they will tell me of what you have done."

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"Come, there is nothing to thank me for. You would have spoke the same words to me," Rhavaniel adressed Evelyn with another of her smiles, summoning her strength as she made to lift Nessa. It had been many years she had been made to go through with the rigorous training of the Mirwood Hunters, and she tottered backwards for a minute before her muscles hardened to carry the burden. "We must away with her to the Houses of Healing and inform Estel!"

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

~Sorry all. I've been going through some stuff at the moment. I will try and post more often.

Naerwen straightened recalling her hand from Morfindien's shoulder. With a swift movement she stood beside the window gazing out at the white city. She marvelled at the beauty of the stone and how it provided even the weakest men with some sort of hope or security. Was it to be threatened again? Her lips curled in disgust. Who would choose to ressurect the dark shadow that seemed to be forming? In her minds eye she saw the Black Tower and the omnipresent eye that sat upon it. It could not be. He was dead. Off course death did not mean that Sauron was without followers. Could they be following in his foot steps? Naerwen glanced over her shoulder at Nostariel. "I think the only reason for the rise in orc numbers, is simply that someone is creating them. I cannot imagine they are being created for a good reason either. I do not understand why someone would threaten the world we have all fought so hard to keep." Naerwen sighed deeply and returned her gaze to the window. The mortals scurried about their business, seemingly oblivious to the shadow that hung over their heads. Her eyes lighted upon three figures. Two she recognised immediately as Rhavaniel and Evelyn. The third was indecipherable under her thick cloaks. Suddenly the figure fainted in Rhavaniel's arms. Naerwen gasped loudly. "Nessa!" Naerwen rushed to the door, hitching up her dress mid-gait. In the next second the door was ajar and Naerwen was bolting down the hall to meet her friends.

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Durion looked out at the kingdom he was slowly creating for himself. He wished it to be complete by now, but orcs were not exactly gifted with intelligence or fast working hands. Still it would be complete soon and it would all be his. His eyes lighted upon his trusted companion; his second in command. "What more can I do to show them I am their pack-leader brother?" He scowled, glaring at the orcs that scrambled to be out of his way. Durion returned his attention to Locien questioning his smile. Did he know? Impossible. Durion straightened himself and with great confidence strutted over to stand beside his companion.

"What would make you think I have done something wrong or indeed something to be ashamed of?" He raised his brow to Locien. "You surely are not beginning to doubt me are you Locien? I have promised you a new life and have I not took every step to prove that to you? I merely wished to break our existence to the humans later and more slowly. However someone has decided to do it for us and much sooner than I planned." He turned his back to Locien. "It would bode well if we both prepared to take a trip. Arrange some guards. I have a feeling that the Gondorian's will soon wish to speak with us."

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"Nessa!" Naerwen called again signalling her arrival amongst her companions. Naerwen carefully pulled back the figures hood to confirm her identity. "Oh Nessa...What has happened to you?" Naerwen glanced at Rhavaniel and Evelyn, her eyes frantic. "What did she say? What happened to her?" Her hands slipped under Nessa's arms, preparing to take most of her weight.

Nessa stirred, her eyes blinking in furious confusion. "Naerwen?" She asked, her voice frail and unsure.
"I am here, Nessa," Naerwen answered, disguising all worry in her voice with reassurance. "We're going to take you to take you to the Houses of Healing. You are going to be alright. I promise." Nessa simply nodded, pushing weight onto her legs and forcing them to take it.

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Evelyn swiftly and gracefully fell to one knee to examin the patient, calmly taking Nessa's soft cheeks in her hands, glad to focus on someone elses troubles. For a few seconds, Evelyn touched the others cheeks, felt her brow, measured her breathing. Another one to heal? "She'll live." Evelyn assured Narwen. Evelyn stood up without hesitation, taking Nessa in her arms without strain as she helped Narwen take her to the hosues of healing.

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- Don't worry Naerwen! I haven't really been around either... Can I just ask though- Is Durion the 'master'?


Locien stepped away from Durion with a low bow. He was older than the elf in front of him, but years of painful conditioning had taught him what his master was capable of. Even if they had spent years with each other, relying and using the others experience to work towards a common goal, the once favourite of Greenwood's king knew that the relationship they had was built on cruelty and submission. Sauron had been the mastermind behind this experiment, his failsafe, in case anything happened.
The elf brushed hair out of his face and gazed briefly at the sky. Even in those days it had been clear that the Dark Lord would not use him as his arm. The Maiar had learnt from his master Morgoth, that some elves could not be completely broken. And so Locien had been kept as a tool to break others, to twist and warp and comfort and smother, his way of getting inside his kin's head had been an asset in his previous life and his master was keen to not let that talent go to waste.

He remembered the tale of Maedhros rung in his ears as he stared Durion down. The elf had been captured by Morgoth many years ago, even before his own birth and had been hung by his wrist until his rescue. Broken and unable to endure the suffering, Maedhros threw himself, and the Silmaril that he bore, into a fiery chasm of the Earth, thus ending his life.

He knew no-one was coming to save him. He knew he could not fade or save his spirit by casting himself of the top of the tower. And so he had resigned himself to this new way of living, forgotten and cursed by all those he loved. He thought himself lucky that his master had forsaken the use of pain to gain information and loyalty.

"Of course," Locien said delicately, inclining his head and casting a glance at the orc that had been hiding in the shadows. It disappeared immediately to make the necessary arrangements. "I was merely expressing my concern,"And if your servants do not accept you then it bodes well for me., he added mentally.

During the early days of his capture he had made a point of studying the behavior of his tormentors- And after years he was able to use their own language to his advantage. The Dark Lord had looked upon it as a gift, something to be commended and so his shackles had been loosened.

"And so we shall go to Gondor? I thought you capable of at least keeping our existence secret until the appointed time. Whoever is on their way there now, brother, should have been dealt with properly."
Locien turned to the great black tower and walked into the shadow, shivering slightly as he did so. The darkness reminded him of his beloved's hair, so dark it seemed to suck the light from around and contain it within. He knew he would be able to see her again soon- And, having known her for so long he knew she would be in Gondor. Where else could he find the woman who had fallen so hard from grace and yet risen to stare out from the peak of a new world?

-

Rhavaniel slowly levered Nessa towards Naerwen and gave her friend a tight smile: "Careful now," she murmured as she maneuvered the elf that was hanging between them towards the Houses of Healing.

As they walked, Rhavaniel mused on the fact that she did not know of this 'Nessa'. She had indeed been gone from home a long time. Yet she could not face the ancient woods without feeling her heart bleed for forgotten times and forgotten men. Once she had been the jewel of the court, even after everything that had happened, she had known everyone who had been, well, worth knowing- And she had been known herself. Her name had echoed across the ages and the borders, always with the whisper of a smirk or a half-amicable smile. As the times had changed the tale of the wife of the 'King-slayer' as Locien had been cruelly dubbed had changed into a tragic love-story. Personally she had preferred the former, but she had never interfered in the flow of words that accompanied

They lowered their kinswoman onto a bed with pristine white sheets and a beautiful view. Rhavaniel took a few steps back and exchanged a meaningful look with Evelyn. This woman had important information for the king of Gondor, but as elected representatives of Lorien and Mirkwood respectively they had a vested intrest in staying close.

-

Morfindien watched with raised brows as Naerwen darted out of the room. A shiver went down his spine. He felt he was rapidly falling out of the loop. But he had recognized the name: Nessa.With a winning smile he drew himself up out of the chair and offered Nostariel his arm: "I do believe we have a visitor," he smirked.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

~I was playing with the idea that Durion was Sauron's illegitimate child. Sauron had perhaps planned to have someone take his place should the battle go ill for him. Nessa is Durion's mother, she has tried desperately to keep Durion good, but there is just something in his blood that thwarts her every attempt. What do you think?

Naerwen helped lower Nessa's seemingly frail body onto the bed. She cast a glance at Rhavaniel and Evelyn. "Send for a healer at once!" Naerwen commanded as she perched herself on Nessa's bed. She looked down into the woman's face. It had been twisted into something nearly unrecognisable. Pain was prominent, but so was regret. Naerwen wondered what could have happened to Nessa. What could have happened to draw worry lines upon her once fair face. Tears stung at Naerwen's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If Nessa had taught Naerwen anything it was how to be strong. With hasty movements, Naerwen was back on her feet, she disappeared for a moment, but soon returned with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. Again, she perched on the edge of Nessa's bed and gently washed away the blood and dirt from her face. "You are going to be alright Nessa. Just stay with me. I'm here. Stay with me," Naerwen spoke softly to her, her voice nearly breaking on her last command. Nessa's eyelids fluttered weakly. Naerwen took this as acknowledgement of her presence and as a promise.

Naerwen had been a relatively young elleth when her parents perished in the great battle of Beleriand. Naerwen cried for weeks after she found out of their deaths. The messenger had tried to reassure her that they had been valiant in there death and that they would be honoured greatly for their sacrifice. Naerwen had stayed with Durion's mother while her parents had been away. It now fell upon Nessa's shoulders to raise Naerwen in the best way she knew how to. Nessa had never been a fighter so instead she taught Naerwen how to cook; how to sew and how to whittle wood. Naerwen appreciated the beauty in these activities, but she always hungered for something more. The day she went into training was a hard day for Nessa. She had always wanted a daughter, now she had one and now she was sure to lose her to a blade.

Off course Nessa had nothing to fear she had taught Naerwen well. The cooking lessons had taught Naerwen to pay attention to the smells around her. The sewing lessons taught her to pay attention to detail. The rest of her skill came from her blood. Her parents had been proud, victorious warriors in their day it only made sense that their talents would pass to their daughter.

Nessa's eyes fluttered open now, she gazed up at Naerwen with a curious expression on her face. Soon her brows smoothed and a smile spread across her features. "You are a sight for sore eyes my dear," Nessa croaked, with a chuckle. Naerwen frowned deeply and held a cup of water to Nessa's lips. Her eyes ran then length of Nessa's cloaked body, wondering what injuries lay beneath. Nessa drank the water and cleared her throat. "I guess I gave you a nasty fright. Forgive me, all of you." Her eyes strayed past Naerwen to Rhavaniel and Evelyn. "Thank you for your aid," she smiled warmly to them. Naerwen guided Nessa's face back to hers and she fixed her with a determined stare. "What happened to you?"

Nessa paled at the thought of answering this question. Where was she to start? Her lip quivered slightly, working over the words she was about to utter. Second guessing as to whether there was another way to express the regrets of her life. "Please do not be angry with me Naerwen." Nessa started. "I am very proud of the life I have lived, I have lived by the rules and helped others every chance I had. However...None of that can make up for the biggest regret in my life." Nessa paused, taking a deep breath. "I regret conceiving my son." Nessa looked around the room, waiting for the shock to explode on the witnesses faces.

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Durion eyed Locien suspiciously. If he could not trust the orcs, how could he trust his kin? Durion knew that most of them could be manipulative. Lady Galadriel had been the expert in manipulation, what with her powers and being able to break the boundaries and speak into her guests minds. Lace doubt throughout their strongest convictions. Have them turn against their loved ones. Durion longed to have that power. Unfortunately that power was long gone. It was up to him to be creative.

Durion could not deny Locien had his uses. He was far more effective in dealing with the orcs. He had a certain way with them that no one else could master. Durion would need this control for now. Durion silently clipped his hair out of his face and gazed out at the grounds, his expression stern. He straightened his back, pulling his posture up to tower over his companion. "Your concern is not needed Locien. I know what I am doing. Do not fear my friend. I will deliver us a better future," even if it is the last thing I do. He added as an afterthought.

Durion began to pace back and forth as he thought over Locien's next statement. "What would you have me do brother? Kill my own mother?" He hissed sharply, glancing at Locien. He wondered how much this information would cost him.

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