In the space between the unexpected and a leap of faith lies insight. Whenever things are not quite what they appear is when intuition and wisdom, not intelligence are the best guides.

Chapter 1: A Knight of Dale goes Missing

"Sister, try this;" said the young man, as he spurred his horse away from the little ring, hung from the tree. It was the third one in a rough line along the edge of the glade. It had been several days of trial and coaching, with long hours in the saddle each day. Riding up to his teenage sister, he saw the smile in her eyes shift to focus as she tensed, waiting for the command to begin. He cantered out a short distance to find one of the better spots where he could observe her performance.

"Ready..." He watched her lean over the saddle, whispering to her horse, with one hand on the long pole, the other on the reins of her horse.

"Set..." She lowered the pole, and balanced it in her arm.

"Go!" Her elbows lifted as she spurred her horse into motion. It quickly broke into a gallop. As she tucked the pole under her arm, he watched the pole reach out in front of the horse's nose. He watched the careful control of the tip as horse and rider rose and fell as the horse leveled into a steady run.

"One!" He called out calmly as the first ring leaped up the pole almost to her hand. "Steady... Keep the point down..." He spoke quietly to himself and to his horse. His horse just twitched his ears. Her horse carried her down a dip in the ground, and then back up as she made a gentle turn to line up on the second ring.

"Two!" He called out a bit louder as the second, smaller ring caught on the tip. He watched as the horse tripped, taking an extra step. The point of the lance bounced sending the second ring off the pole. He saw her turn the horse toward the third ring and lean forward into the running horse, who sped up into a steady gallop. The steady thud of the hooves blurred as he focused on the rider closing in on the little wooden ring. "Yes... Yes..." The tip leveled again, and aimed for the third and smallest ring, the last one he'd hung up. "Yes... YES!" He yelled out as the third ring was caught by the tip of the pole. As she slowed her horse and turned toward him, it was only then that he noticed that her braid had broken free, and as she lifted up the pole in triumph, her golden hair streamed free behind her, her face glowing with accomplishment. As she held up her pole, the third ring barely slid down.

He spurred his horse into motion, quickly leaping into a canter toward his sister, who slowed to a stop next to him. With a beaming smile across her face, red with exertion and the pole held high, hair unkempt, now touching the back of her horse behind her. His arms reached out to her, as they slowed. As they pull up their horses, they pulled up briefly, leaned into each other, and hugged.

"Ancalime, do you know how long it took me to do that? Aearion had me at it for weeks!" They both broke out in chuckles, and she shrugged her shoulders and blushed a bit. But her horse snorted steam in the cool morning air, and he could see her face was flushed; her chest still heaving from the hard work. But he could not ignore the genuine smile of joy. She seemed the most beautiful creature in the world when she wore that smile, and it is what kept him coming back to these fun escapades in the fields. Mother approved, as did his 'Aunts', but Father did not; if he was aware that his daughter was probably as good a knight as many in the kingdom, he would quickly put a stop to their fun.

She smiled and handed him the pole and rings. As she caught her breath, she started her horse into a cool-down, muttering words of praise and stroking its mane. They rode over to pick up the ring she had dropped. When her breath finally came back to her, she was again his bubbling teenage sister. "I can't wait to tell Mother!" And "Drota will want to hear about this!" and "What do you think Aunt will say?" These and other words poured out of her mouth - including questions he was never given time to answer. He didn't mind, as it was a joy to see her really happy. He also didn't tell her that most knights couldn't do this with rings twice the size he'd used. He kept in mind to tell Aunt Calådhiel the next time he saw her. She would definitely appreciate how well his little sister had done. And Aunt Gothweniel would probably love the stories of her laughter.

Three weeks later, Aldarion had this memory of his little sister jarred as he watched her being presented in public for the first time. All of the young persons from the leading families of Dale were present. As Ancalime Vandemere stepped out onto the dance floor, she was presented to Prince Bard. Heads turned and whispers moved around the large room.

The room was filled with richly dressed men and women in their hats and beautifully embroidered clothes. But her dress, poise and carriage were striking, even among the most beautiful, rich and powerful of Dale's society. Her complexly braided hair, intertwined with jewels and flowers, gave out an appearance that was perfect, and the pride in their father's face was evident. To all she appeared as a beautiful, proud princess, daughter of Lord Eldecar Vandemere, Elector of Dale.

To most of those present, and even to the Princess Gironne herself, Ancalime appeared a vision of the past, the namesake of her great-great-grandmother, an untouchable heroine sung into the bards' verses from the War of the Ring. Aldarion could not help but notice the dark jealous glances, particularly among the women, old and young there present. He couldn't tell, but he hoped that Princess Gironne was not among them. He also noticed the exactly polite, quiet and almost royal phrases Ancalime used, with all emotion hidden.

But the memory of the ruddy, joy-filled young woman on a steaming horse with her long hair streaming wild could not seem more starkly in contrast with the image of the perfect, proud woman in front of him. The fact that they were the same person was almost too incongruous for him to fathom. While he heard her proper tone and perfect pronunciation echo across the room, his memory swirled about the gentle and heartfelt words of praise she gave her horse after her victory over the wooden rings. While the contrast sank into his consciousness, in the back of his mind, he realized that his understanding of women was yet again challenged. He suspected it would not be the last time.

Aldarion was shaken from his musings by his friend Jankin. "You should be proud, Aldarion. Your sister is quite the decoration. Look around at the envy she draws from the other wallflowers."

He made a face, trying to think of what to say. Ancalime was anything but a wallflower. Not finding the right words, he just raised his hand, mimicking a shove, "Go away. Find someone else to dance with."

In his fathers' jewel smith workshop, Aaron placed the two wrapped boxes in his shoulder satchel: A larger box with almost two years of careful planning and work, and a smaller box delivered with his instructions.

The larger box held work he had been preparing for months, made of jewels recently taken from the depths of Erebor. The large green stones were cut and set to match those of Smaug's hoard taken from the King of Dale at its overthrow. One of the smaller stones was actually from that set, and the rest were gifts of Thorin III Stonehelm, King-under-the-mountain and his work. The original stone, and the setting in silver and gold was gifted by the aging Brand II, King of Dale. While neither Thranduil nor the aged Stonehelm were to be present at the public 30-year celebration, Gloin, Bard and Beninion of the Greenwood were also anticipated. But the gift was for Thranduil , and King Brand desired that he would receive it on the day of celebration. Consequently, it was packed in a beautifully-carved box lined in silk brocade.

Aaron himself had led the work, personally having designed and labored over the setting for most of these past two years. For the past two months, he'd worked on it almost exclusively. All of this had been arranged through the two kings' sons, Gloin II, and the heir-apparent Bard III of Dale. This creation was to be a gift from Dale & Erebor, in honor of both the discovery of the rare green stones and the 30-year celebration that would be held in just a few weeks. Aaron was immensely proud of the work. Both King Stonehelm and King Brand were very pleased, and had included personal notes with their seals in the ornately carved box now in the bag about his shoulder.

Prince Bard's servant had given clear instructions that as the craftsman, he himself was to have the honor of presenting it to King Thranduil . Aaron had expected a heavy escort for such a gift, but his instructions told that secrecy was desired, as Bard wanted the presentation of their gift, now in preparation for almost two years, to be a surprise. The instructions clearly said that the much smaller box was also to be presented - A small token from the mountain from the old days. They should travel light and fast, and to take only a few companions. Aaron thought to himself that this should not be a very great risk, as these were times of peace.

To this end, Aaron's friend, Adan of the Greenwood agreed to be his escort. Adan and he were quite the opposites: He towered over his 5'9 friend by the better part of a foot, and his friend could ride and shoot circles around him. And talk his ear off. Adan was the youngest son of Alyan, a veteran of The War, and head of the elven trading guild. His successful investments had made him exceedingly rich, and earned him a well-respected name throughout Dale and the region around Laketown. His son was equally good: as a judge of character, in his skill at trade, and in his generosity. He and his sister Lona were also long-time friends of his own family. They were remarkably tall for elves; but in the house of Mark the Master Jewel smith of Dale, they were all short, and seemed to enjoy having a space where they were welcome and yet went unnoticed for their height. His father Mark had asked him to lead the escort, and they took three armed men with them.

They rode out of Dale unnoticed, and made good time heading for the Woodland river that flowed into the lake south of Dale. It was on the eve of their second night traveling toward the Greenwood that they made their second bivouac. That evening as he was preparing a meal, that Adan gave a call that indicated someone was approaching.

"Hail the camp!" he heard called out in a feminine voice. And he found an older, but not old woman walking toward their camp. She was well-fed, and spoke with one of the accents of the country people that inhabited the sparsely-populated regions north and west of Dale. She led a burro with a pack saddle. Adan quietly followed.

"What brings you this far south at this time of year, Mother?" He asked.

"The great celebration of King Brand, of course. This should be one of the greatest free markets in years." She patted her burro. "And feasts!" She paused, "aren't you headed that way?"

Aaron replied with a half-truth, "Yes mother, soon enough."

"Those are good horses." She noted, and then turned and spotted Adan standing behind her leaning on his bow. "Oh - let me introduce myself. I am Dwimmerlein." Looking up at the tall and taller men she added, "Who might you two be?" Their other companions were seeing to the horses.

"I am Aaron, and this is Adan." He said simply. Although Adan had more experience, he'd been coached that in the wilds, long introductions were neither necessary nor expected. Extending the hospitality expected, he replied "Would you care for some food? You are welcome to join us." The meal was small, and she responded with the rough grace normal to these parts. Adan appeared a bit ill-at-ease, but said nothing. At some point, she returned her bowl to Adan, and thanked them both for the meal.

While he took the bowl with both hands, she reached out and touched him with something and he gave a brief cry of fright and dropped to the ground like a stone. Aaron started to run, and reached into his bag to throw the contents into the darkness, but quick as a cat Dwimmerlein jabbed his leg with what felt like a stick. "You won't get away that easy," she said. His head exploded in a scream that made his mind dim, and he tripped, gripped in a terror so dark that he could not understand much of anything for a few moments. His own hands involuntarily flailed, and as his hand came out, it half tore the bag from him as he fell, or rather bounced off the ground. Standing over him with his bag in her hands, "I have it!" He thought he heard her say as all went black, blacker than the starless night in the wilds. "And I have you. We'll see if you are all she said you were."

When he awoke, it was bright daylight. His mouth was gagged, hands were tied painfully tight, with a stick behind his elbows. Adan was disarmed and trussed in the same way. "I don't care! Keep looking! It must be here!" Dwimmerlein, or whatever her name really was, was ordering someone. There was lots of motion in the bushes and the nearby tall grass, but he couldn't see what from. She clearly held his precious bag, and the larger box appeared to be in it, given the shape. Apparently, the smaller box had been tossed out when he fell. He couldn't remember actually throwing it, though. His mind went back to Prince Bard's servant who had given him the instructions, sealed with his signet. How could this have happened? Why was he still alive? None of this made any sense. She continued giving orders, but in a language he did not understand. Adan apparently did, as his face shifted to anger as he heard it.

Sometime after noon, a man of average height came over and helped him to his feet. He removed the stick so he could relieve himself, and fed him some food and water. "You'll need this." He then replaced the stick, and tied a rope around his neck, and secured the other end to a horse. He then repeated the process with Adan, very careful to keep a close watch on him. The man went back to the search, and they were left for some time, with the horses munching at the nearby grass. They both sat down and waited. The deep fear of the night still stirred, and he felt ashamed of himself. He could see the same look on Adan's face. Adan had been so proud to be the one to present the beautifully worked green necklace to his King, and now there was nothing but shame and failure. But the fear was deeper, and darker than that. And the fate of their three companions was unknown.

Evening came. The woman walked over to them, but something struck him odd about her looks, as if she were somehow different, older, fiercer than when he had met her at night. Her hair was more white-grey than he remembered. She pulled out a stick, which she held like a dagger. Seeing the bitter look on Adan's face, she jabbed him in the chest, which he could do nothing to prevent. She held it there several moments, as a look of complete and hopeless terror gripped him. He tensed completely, and held his eyes shut fast. "Kneel!" She commanded. And though he fought it, moments later, he dropped to his knees. Tears started from his eyes as she held the stick to his chest, his face contorted in pain. She waited for what seemed an eternity. Eventually she looked at Aaron, "Shall I let him go?"

"Yes" he nodded.

"Then you will cooperate?" She asked, still holding Adan on his knees. The manservant loosened his gag.

"YES." He choked out. She pulled back the stick, returning it to a sheath. Adan slumped to the ground, rolling on to his side, choking back tears, and rasping with each breath. All of this apparently went unnoticed. "Good. Tell me, did you bring two boxes with you, or just the one?"

"There were two." Aaron replied honestly.

"Feed them." She commanded, and left. The manservant repeated the procedure from the noontime, repeating the process. He mentioned to Aaron, "I hope you're the tall one we were looking for. Otherwise, you'll both wish you were dead long before you will be." The cramps in his arms and shoulders made it nearly impossible to sleep. It took quite a while before Adan could eat. He could observe that periodically he broke into a sweat and shivered, as if he were still in pain. He did notice their three escorts similarly trussed up some forty yards away.

Then the man left them tied as before. Later, as the light was fading, Adan smelled something, and gave Aaron a look of confusion and anger that he'd never seen before. He mumbled a question in Sindarin through his gag that he couldn't understand. Later, he caught a glimpse of something he thought was a bear, but walked like a wolf. They were big, some perhaps 300 pounds and possibly more. He finally drifted to sleep hearing what sounded like cursing in a language he didn't know. For reasons he couldn't quire place, it was the most pleasant sound he had heard all day.

The next day, they were all tied and mounted on their horses, giant bear-wolves. These 'wargs' he heard they were called, chased their five horses, herding them north at a killing pace. All five riders were exhausted when they finally stopped. The horses were able drink and eat what little grass there was in places where they stopped, but the men were given little time to rest. After a second day of this, and their strength waning, they were given some food and water. Later they got the idea to use their teeth to tear small bits of cloth and leave them when they stopped. It seemed a forlorn hope, but doing anything seemed better than nothing.

Aldarion Vandemere walked up the steep hill to the Prince's Chalet near the King's residence. To get there he passed through the old South Gate and up the hill that was the Old Town of the city. Accompanied by his mentor and best friend, he wondered why he was suddenly called to a private audience with the Prince.

"Your Highnesses," he started, when he noticed that not only was Prince Bard, son of Brand present, his daughter Gironne was seated next to him.

The prince looked very serious, nodded in acknowledgment, and addressed them. "This favor I am to ask of you two will come best from a woman." Aldarion smiled slightly, but wondered what was about to happen.

His daughter Gironne began, "Undoubtedly you know of the green stone that was found in the mountain last year. King Stonehelm and my grandfather agreed that this would make a beautiful gift for our ally and friend Thranduil Elvenking on the occasion of my grandfather's 30th anniversary. Stonehelm suggested that they have the best of their craftsmen fashion a copy of Dale's royal jewels that Thranduil apparently admired in the Dragon's hoard after the Battle of Five Armies."

"Well, such a necklace was made under the supervision of both kings, and this mighty gift was sent to Thranduil to be delivered to him to the Greenwood. The men leading the work, Adan son of Alyan and Aaron son of Mark were to present this gift as a surprise. However, their instructions went awry, and they left two nights ago without the escort father intended." She paused to look at her father, as if wondering how much she should share. The Prince nodded back to her.

The two warriors looked at each other. Aearion nodded to Aldarion, who then replied.

"My Lady, My Prince, why do you tell us this tale? It is usually a four-day ride to the Elvenking if not in great haste. This implies that you have at minimum a spy within these walls, and perhaps worse."

Gironne glanced back at her father, giving him the "I-told-you-so" look. He just nodded for her to continue. "What you suggest is our conclusion as well. Given what we have uncovered, we believe that their instructions were intercepted and probably forged. We fear they have run into a trap; That someone has been working to steal these jewels, if they have not already. While they left only two nights ago, we fear for their safety."

Aldarion looked to his older companion, and turning to his two royal hosts replied. "I see."

"Sir knights. We are in need of skilled, trustworthy and especially discrete men to protect, if not avenge the loss of these jewels, but most particularly the men charged with their safe delivery to the Elvenking. They left two nights ago; two days ago we discovered their early departure, and today we discovered the reason for their misdirection. Now all haste and discretion are needed if we are to ensure their safety, if it is not too late. You are already two days behind them."

Reading into what was being said, Aearion spoke next. "My Lord, My Lady, you have our word. We will find Aaron and Adan and their companions and bring them home." He paused, searching for the right words. "And avenge this slight upon your honor."

Bard nodded in thanks. "Yes." He saw he'd picked someone he could trust. "It is best if you go as soon as you can, and with little fanfare." He turned to Aldarion, "I trust you will not mind my using my daughter for arranging this audience. It provides some cover to the wagging tongues here about the kingdom, that you are in her favor."

Aldarion looked briefly at Princess Gironne. Thinking quickly, he replied, "Then it would seem appropriate, my Prince... for the ruse... that the Lady … provide me with a favor."

At this, Gironne was surprised, and a little annoyed. She struggled only briefly to keep her emotions hidden. She removed her veil, as it was the only thing handy. With a formal voice, she completed the ruse. "Good Knight, then please accept this favor from my hand." After she handed him the cloth she then added, this time with her real feelings, "Thank you." She looked Aearion in the eye and repeated her thanks to him as well.

In parting, Aldarion answered, "We will send word immediately, once we find out what happened to them." Holding up the veil he was entrusted to return he added, "We will not fail you." Only this time he found himself looking at the unveiled Gironne first, rather than her father. The two knights quickly departed the chalet.

"Aldarion, what was that 'favor' act about?"

"I wanted to see how she reacted. I really can't tell if she cares for me at all."

"You humans are too quick about these things. You have years before you should consider women."

"Remember friend, I will only live to 70, or 80 if I am very strong. You'll still see my great-grandchildren unless you choose to cross the sea."

"True enough. Let's be about our business. I suspect it will be a long night for us."

They returned downhill to Aldarion's father's house in the New Town. They proceeded to arm and pack their horses themselves, keeping even the servants unaware of what they were about. Aldarion left a short note for Aredhel, his mother. They mounted and rode south away from the city, and then off to the west to try to find the missing Silversmith. When they had ridden well out of earshot of Dale and its surroundings, Aearion commented, "I know Adan; he's a good fellow even if his father is a bit over-protective. I hope we can find them quickly, and find that this is all overblown."

"That would make this a very short trip, although we'll still miss the festivities at Dale that you came in for."

The last comment turned out to be true, even if the first did not. They stumbled upon Aaron and Adan's captors, and met a similar fate. Only they were hustled north immediately. Apparently the woman and her minions had found whatever they had been looking for that had kept them lingering in the spot of Aaron's last campsite.

They went north, but some of their arms did not. The wargs charged with collecting them were not very good at counting. Their quivers were found by the next search party that went out from Dale several days later.

Ancalime, daughter of Eldecar and Aredhel, usually preferred the company of her two brothers, or her mother's friends. She was raised in their country estate and always chose to be on a horse when she could avoid town. Which was not now. For at this time, there was a great public celebration; King Brand II, great-grandson of the king of the same name was celebrating 30 years on the throne. Invitations to all the great houses of Gondor, Rohan, Dol Guldor, as well as to all the populace of Dale, Erebor and the Greenwood and even further abroad had been in circulation for months. For Ancalime, this meant more unpleasant time in public, more time being fitted for expensive, if fashionable dresses, but it also time with her two brothers.

But these festivities came with other benefits though: extended visits from her mother's closest friends, 'Aunt' Calådhiel and her sister Gothweniel. They were guests at Eledecar's somewhat lavish city home, while their father Beninion was staying in the Old Town at the Palace as one of the honored guests, and a participant in the royal ceremonies. Calådhiel and Gothweniel's presence during this public 30-year celebration was extremely welcome, as it promised to provide some distraction from the more odious and public aspects of the court and the public appearances expected daily. It also meant that perhaps they could quit the city when the public celebrations were finished. But this was not to happen.

Her older brother had taken advantage of his being a knight and left suddenly for parts unknown with his friend and mentor Aearion. He managed to avoid the whole public affair; now she was left to entertain, and be shown off in public. Eldecar's guests and household were a bit surprised when the two friends disappeared into the night armed and on horseback; however they were used to their brothers' antics. The note mentioned that it was a quick errand for a friend, and they expected to either return or send word within a week. It was now a week hence, and the public celebrations were now starting.

However, in the House of Eldecar, there was little cause for joy. In the days after Aldarion and Aearion had ridden out into the darkness, no word came back. To their surprise, Prince Bard immediately sent another search out, and just today a message arrived from the Prince addressed to Eldecar. The note was brief - that the two were missing. Their quivers were found, but no trace of the two skilled searchers.

Just this morning, a sealed letter, delivered by one of Prince Bard's personal servants arrived at the house. When the servants were away, Aredhel read it aloud to the household. The note briefly explained that Prince Bard, on the word of the King himself had sent the two on this errand. Thus they learned that Aldarion and Aearion had not just gone off for some private adventure. What they learned was that the two had ridden off in service to the King of Dale; in search of a missing silversmith and some men who had disappeared. Aldarion had been entrusted to seek out and find the missing men because they had been carrying something of value to the king. And that it was a far more serious errand than any had anticipated. And all had disappeared.

Ancalime and her two elven friends were surprised. 'Aunt' Calådhiel paced, and it took some convincing by Aredhel and Gothweniel for her to not simply ride off into the wilds after her younger brother. A quiet, brooding meal was shared among the four women. As the afternoon broke with a beautiful cloudless summer sky, Aredhel reminded the three that their fathers expected them to present themselves in the City for the opening ceremonies; that they had brought and made special gowns for the occasion. Starting their preparations, the three aided each other in dressing and arranging their hair.

It was at this juncture that the servants of the house of Eldecar announced visitors. Ancalime was called by the visit of two women she did not know: Two younger women, both veiled. One was announced as "Lona daughter of Alyan" and "Alina daughter of Mark." As her memory played with the names and their relationships, she marked them in her mind as an elven princess and the sister to the missing silversmith. Why they would come visiting now, just hours before they were to be at the celebrations in town were beyond her. Ancalime greeted Lona and Alina, with whom she was unacquainted, and led them to a room where the young ladies could speak in private.

It was hard not to notice them; Lona was about her own height, making her exceedingly tall for one of the Greenwood. And Alina was easily six-feet tall, and very thin. Rather than party clothes, both were dressed in mourning. As the strangers entered the chamber with the other women, they followed custom and removed their veils. But not without interruption.

"Lona!" Was the joyous cry that leaped from Gothweniel's lips. Her elven friend immediately hugged her friend. Ancalime could not help but smile at the two stunningly beautiful women. She was used to Gothweniel and her red hair; but next to Lona, excepting her long black curls, they could be mistaken for twins. Calådhiel smiled, and greeted her in Sindarin, "Lona, who is this that you brought with you?"

With everyone now looking at her, the tall young woman next to Lona smiled, but looked a bit confused. Lona responded for her, flawlessly in the Westron tongue spoken in Dale: "This is my sister Alina. It is her brother and mine that Aldarion and Aearion went searching for. And the recent news has not been encouraging."

Lona introduced Alina as the twin sister to Aaron the missing silversmith, noting that their families had been long acquainted. Mark and his son Aaron's beautiful work graced many of the Woodland folk. Ancalime immediately recognized Mark as the royal jewel smith and recalled that he had an impeccable reputation, not only for good work, but for honest dealings and generous service to the poor and outcast of the city.

Lona's tall friend Alina appeared oddly a little desperate. For her part, Alina was familiar with Ancalime and her family, mostly by reputation, but she was unfamiliar with the two well-dressed Elven ladies standing with her.

Gothweniel spoke next: "Lona - this must be the little girl you told me so many stories of?" Looking up at Alina, "My lady, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Gothweniel, daughter of Vanesse. I have been friends with Lona your whole life; possibly your mother's as well." Pointing to the shortest person in the room, she added: "This is my older sister, Calådhiel."

Lady Calådhiel was tiny, hardly over 5' tall, but there was nothing small about her. She had that permanent youthful look of the Elves, and she knew Calådhiel's name from some memory of her history lessons that she couldn't immediately place.

The tall Elven speaker sort-of resembled Calådhiel. She was human in her height, just slightly taller than Lona, but very similar in age and appearance. But like Lona, this lady showed an unforgettably beautiful, with a disarming smile and gentleness. The similarity between her friend and the lady Gothweniel was astonishing; she had to look at them both twice. Only their hair and eyes set them distinctly apart.

Noting the pensive look on the tall woman's face, Gothweniel spoke gently, "Please tell us what disturbs you. My lady clearly you have some news that Lona thinks that we should all know."

Alina looked to Lona, but remained silent. Lona spoke for them both. "My sister Alina who confided something to me, and knowing that you both were here, I felt obliged to seek out the house where the two daughters of Vanesse are staying. Please hear out her tale. This is about our brothers, and we need your wisdom to discern if and how we should respond." Some recognition and respect awakened in the three listeners. But the words that flowed next from the Jewel smith's tall daughter caught their attention and held it.

Alina faced Ancalime and began. "Lady Ancalime, I know your brother Sir Aldarion is missing, and I know him to be a knight of Dale of unsurpassed honor and skill, and trained in the Greenwood. He was sent by the request of King Brand. He was sent with a small group to quickly find and track our brothers." She paused, pointing to Lona. "I also know that everyone thinks they are dead, and that we should wait or mourn. But I'm here to say that they are not. I'm not sure why, or how. Only Lona believes me. But I sense that my twin brother is very much alive, and that he is somehow desperate. I somehow sense not death, but fear and suffering. I've felt this before as a young girl when we were separated, and this sense was not wrong. But now ..." And she paused to stifle a sob, "I was awakened to the very pointed sense of fear and horror and suffering. I could not shake it." Looking directly at the strangers in front of her, she added, "And the suffering are not dead, but very much alive. He is in the midst of something very terrible, or something terrible just happened to him. And I sense that Aaron is not alone in this suffering either."

She paused, holding back tears that were very real; real for the formless images that had invaded the quiet spaces of her mind, and real because they were mixed with a bit of very immediate fear as she sat before these three impeccably-dressed and noble women. She looked down, feeling incredibly vulnerable. The silence, though brief, seemed interminable.

Ancalime could not believe what she heard. Alive? How? She paused her thinking, to recount that just because she wanted something to be true, it did not make it so. While her mind said 'no,' her heart said otherwise.

Gothweniel looked carefully at the young woman in front of her. Her mind searched for tacit and explicit clues to the person before her. After a careful study, she knowingly chimed in, "Sisters - look at her. The Lady Alina speaks the truth. There is no falsehood in her. We must accept her word."

Knowing that it was not from just her rational senses that her friend spoke, Ancalime took a leap of faith - "Aldarion could be with him. Perhaps they met with the same fate."

Gothweniel smiled and filled the pause, "And then hope against hope, Aearion too!"

Alina replied, "Aearion – who is he? Is he the Greenwood knight who rode out with Sir Aldarion?"

Gothweniel replied, "Yes - our brother. They are best friends - friends his whole life. They went together in search of Adan and Aaron the Silversmith. Your brothers." Ancalime proudly added, "and a great warrior too, he is Aldarion's mentor and friend, and is unequaled as a tracker."

Calådhiel finished her sister's thought, "and there has been no word, which means either they are on a war trail, are themselves captured and unable to reply, or are already dead. This is why we have waited in Aredhel's house, to wait and comfort our friends. The news we received just this morning seems to indicate capture, not death or pursuit."

Lona was a little taken aback by the blunt response from the tiny, yet commanding woman. Getting up her nerve to speak to her friend's older sister, a noblewoman and veteran of the War of the Ring and the terrible siege, one of the 'Red Line of Erebor,' was a little nerve-racking. Calådhiel was young for one of the Greenwood, but still very much her senior in age, rank, experience and reputation. But plucking up her own courage, she answered assertively, "But if Aaron is alive, then so too might be Adan."

Ancalime answered, somehow not at all awed by the commanding little figure next to her, "Adan, son of Alyan - the master of the Greenwood trade guild, and longtime friend of Dale and Laketown? But if Aaron is alive, then Aearion and Aldarion may yet be also - either in pursuit or perhaps with them in suffering." She added hopefully.

Calådhiel also replied, almost casually, "Aearion and Aldarion would not be taken alive, yet their quivers were both reported found, but not they. From what we know, it would seem they are lost to us."

Gothweniel chimed in, "That is not certain. This whole situation is thoroughly odd. Too odd. I just do not believe that anything here is as it appears. Why would Aearion and Aldarion go alone? Why would everything be missing? They only found Aaron's trail. No horses, no tools, no bodies… Tracks covered. The little bit we heard makes this whole situation seem more senseless. I just do not believe any of this is as it appears to be. And I believe that the lady Alina speaks the truth." She paused, both for effect, and to convince herself. "We must have hope."

To this, they all paused. Alina wiped away a tear that was forming. She could not believe her ears. Again, there was a silent pause.

Ancalime reached out to gently touch Alina. Breaking the silence she said, "Lady Alina, while we have just met, we are sisters… Sisters in our suffering for our lost brothers, but also sisters in hope." Alina looked up in hope. Ancalime looked at Lona, then Gothweniel. Seeing the encouragement from them both, she turned to Calådhiel, her elder. "Aunt we have to hope. These ladies are here with a message of hope. If Aaron is alive as the lady Alina believes, then we have reason to hope."

Calådhiel thought for a moment. She responded: "Hope requires action. Others from the court have gone, but they were known." She paused, thinking out loud. "Then we should find them. Now." She paused again. "But we must not be known. These are days of peace. The Enemy was thrown down, and the wars are far to the East and South, not here. What is there to stop us? Ancalime, can you procure horses and supplies from your father? Lona - do you have your bow? When could we leave?"

While Lona nodded, Alina looked on with more than a little bit of shock; She had no idea that anyone would take her so seriously, or to so quickly contemplate what men and warriors do. But then Lona and the beautiful Elven sisters were from the Greenwood. They were older - how old she could never tell. And obviously more impetuous. And her memory awakened - the lady Calådhiel wore a red scar on her right hand, earned in the Great War that destroyed Dale. A battle that led to its restoration, and her lifetime friendship with Lona. Ancalime she did not know, only by reputation as proud and formal. But here she was both welcoming and encouraging.

Ancalime answered, "No. Father would never approve. Not without an escort. And no Aunt, you don't count in his eyes, nor you Gothweniel. Despite your skill and fortitude, you are still women in his eyes."

Calådhiel retorted with a smile, "But not your mother's. Lady Aredhel knows better." Gothweniel gave her a strange look, but she continued. "What about your younger brother, doesn't he count? He won't slow us down too much. He is training as a Squire, is he not? And he rides... well, almost as well as you do. And he ought to be in the city, no?"

Ancalime paused, thought on this idea, and then replied, "No, he doesn't count. He's younger than me. If Alina and I are to accompany you, then we need to find some knight errant that we can trust. Maybe two or three. Then we might be able to convince Father."

Gothweniel looked at her own sister and added, "We should tell Father as well."

Calådhiel answered sternly, "No. We are of age, and he needs to be with the King. Besides, if what you suggest is true, then there is more to this. As you pointed out rightly, things cannot be as they appear. All of our brothers went on a Kings' errand, and they are now all four missing, and others besides. Others have gone out searching, undoubtedly more than we are aware of, and they reported nearly nothing. It clearly would be in our interest to keep the wagging tongues in Dale unaware of our business for as long as possible. The very last people we want to know of our endeavor are the royal households, and that is where Father is."

Alina looked at them all in silent shock, but the four ladies continued talking without paying her the least bit of attention.

Lona thought quickly of her experience in convincing people to buy a good thing. She spoke up next, "If we need to recruit an escort for Alina and Ancalime, I know for certain that there are dozens, if not more such knight-errants here in the old city for the feasting. If not there, then at the open markets. Letters of invitation have been abroad for months." She beamed a knowing smile, "Surely we can find and persuade someone, perhaps several someones to accompany us. But we should move quickly."

Calådhiel agreed, "Agreed. We should move quickly. If our brothers are suffering, as Lady Alina suggests, then there is no time to lose." Turning to Ancalime, she continued, "Let me speak to Aredhel on your behalf."

"Yes Aunt, but we need to recruit an escort. Lady Lona, can you point the way?" Ancalime replied. The stern look that had marked her countenance had been quietly replaced with a determined earnestness.

"Most certainly." Replied Lona confidently. Calådhiel then left to speak with her old friend.

After a short silence, the three women whispered their plans quietly. Ancalime did most of the talking. Gothweniel was her sounding board, occasionally correcting or adding to her plans. Alina listened intently, their earnestness being contagious. When Calådhiel returned smiling, Alina, the tallest of the five, still in shock, followed the determined band out of the beautiful house, and into the darkness. The search was just beginning.