Author's Note:

Disclaimer: Do not own in LOTR. All OCs belong to me.

Warning: War scenes. Dol Guldur scenes. This prologue is as dark as the story is gonna get.

Flames not appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Enjoy!

Do not forget to review! :)

~S~

Prologue:

The air was tense.

He felt the air stifle him, hanging over all of them like a heavy blanket. The Warriors stood behind him in tight formation, jaws set and eyes ablaze in anger. Beside him, Thorontur shifted uneasily, his hand clamped around his sword.

"This is madness, Sire." The advisor said quietly.

"I agree with him." Hanon spoke up, his voice just as hushed. Thranduil glanced at the Head Commander of the Rangers. The pair never completely agreed on one thing, with the friendly rivalry of Warriors and Rangers standing between them. It made the situation much more serious when they were on agreeing terms.

He heard soft footsteps on his other side, and sighed inwardly. He knew who it was even before he heard him come to a stand beside him.

"Fion, I would rather you watch this from afar."

"This is news of my former apprentice, Thranduil." The black-haired Ranger said tightly, face set in a grim expression. "I would watch it from close by."

"Fine," Thranduil snapped. "But you are not to draw your knives or your bow for any reason, and you are not to speak as well."

"Understood."

Thranduil took in a deep breath and his voice rang out, full of authority with his emotions well-masked, "Open the gates!"

The gates of Thranduil's Halls groaned as they opened, revealing the forest. But on the Elven Road, they saw orcs standing in front of them, snarling and sneering at them. evil laughter filled their ears and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Thorontur's hand steadily getting even more tighter around his sword.

"Steady!" Thranduil ordered, knowing full well his people were most likely giving the same reaction. But he had no wish to start a fight with the gates open. This was a peaceful meeting, and he did not want the elves to be the first to draw their swords. And he needed to know where his spy was.

One of the orcs stamped up towards them. The guards stood at the gates, watching with alertness every move of the orc. Thranduil guessed he was an officer of some sort, with the dirty mail sporting dried blood. Frayed ropes hung from the orc's belt. His face was mutilated, with the tip of his nose missing and the scars on his face making him look as if it were frozen in a horrible grin. Thranduil controlled himself from recoiling at the sight.

"You have finally opened your gates, cowardly king." The orc sneered, lips baring his blackened teeth. "It is abou' time."

"You had something to say to us." Thranduil said. His voice was even, though he could not keep the disgust out of his tone. He raised his eyes to meet the eyes of one of the wardens of the gate. He inclined his head just a fraction and the warden understood immediately. The gates groaned shut. He could hear the howls of the orcs outside them. Strong as his Halls may be, an overwhelming number of orcs can overcome it. Orcs can climb. So can spiders.

The orc tilted his head in a predatory fashion, like a vulture regarding its feast.

"Why do you hide?" The orc drawled, his voice raspy and low. "What will it be like, Elven-King? When your forest burns and your Halls are littered with the bodies of your people. When there is nothing left to protect and we behead you while you are seated upon your throne."

"I have not let you in to hear your whispers!" Thranduil snarled. "Speak what you have come to say, filth! Or I will have you tossed over the walls to join your kind!"

The orc's grin became wider, and Thranduil felt suspicion enter his heart at the thought that he had reacted just the way the orc wanted him to react. Then the orc's actions distracted him as he reached for the black rope. Then Thranduil felt sickened. It was not rope hanging from the orc's belt. It was hair, black in color and wavy, braided clumsily in a rope and evenly cut as if by force. The orc threw it towards him and Thranduil caught it cleanly. He opened his palm, feeling his heart break as he recognized who the hair could belong to. Beside him, he heard Fion's ragged breath and he knew that his age-old friend knew as well.

"We have your little spy." Thranduil slowly raised his eyes to look at the orc. "Surrender, and you will all die a quick death. Resist, and he will suffer slowly like all your subjects you abandoned."

Fion reached for his dual blades but Thranduil was faster.

The orc's laughter was cut short. He did not realize he did it, until the sword was in his hand, the naked blade gleaming as he swung it. The orc was beheaded, with the grin still plastered on the orc's face.

He picked up the head and bounded up the steps to the wall. He held it high. There was silence below him and the orcs sneered and shouted up at him. He heard Thorontur, Fion and Hanon bound up behind him.

"Hear me," Thranduil said, holding the head even higher for the orcs to see. The fell creatures howled and formed claws up at him as they saw the king stand straight and tall at the wall. "This will be your fate ere our time comes! Go back to your Master and do not return! You are not welcome here nor will you ever be! And be warned! I will always come to take what belongs to me! Take this as a warning ere you leave!" He threw the head towards them, seeing the orcs catch it.

"Loosen your arrows." Thranduil ordered the archers. "Drive them back!"

The captain gave the command of a volley. And the arrows were fired at will after that. Thranduil watched them retreat hastily, shouting at him in the Common Tongue and sometimes in their own as they did. Then one of them rose higher than the others.

"You will regret this, cowardly king! Hide in those Halls! They will be your grave!"

Thranduil leaned back, fighting to keep his composure. His grip tightened on the lock of hair.

"Thranduil?" He heard Thorontur say. He looked up, and saw the same look mirroring in his eyes, and that of Hanon and Fion who stood behind the advisor.

"Gather all soldiers, every elf capable of fighting." Thranduil spat. "We muster the whole army. And then we march unto the gates of Dol Guldur."

"My lord!"

The shout of an alarmed guard made them all turn around. From a distance, Thranduil could see small smoke waft up into the sky and realized what it meant.

The forest was burning.

~S~

Author's Note:

Well... this is unexpected. Title is liable for a change though.

After the hacker problem in my stories, I was not expecting starting another story with Brothers At War. This one was egging me on so I decided to start with it.

All these years, I always wondered what happened behind-the-scenes at Mirkwood during the War. In ffn, I have seen a lot of stories depicting what was going on in Rohan or Gondor, but I personally what happened in Lake-Town and Dale, and Lonely Mountain as well as Mirkwood.

Please review. :)

List of OCs:

Fion- Commander of Rangers, Thranduil's close friend.

Hanon- Head Commander of Rangers.

Thorontur- Thranduil's loyal advisor. Warrior.