Strangled Love by Pur0.E.T

Fifteen years ago; In the confines of Mirkwood.

Six elves raced through the undergrowth, their movements as calm and as swift as the forest creatures themselves. Their leader, the Prince himself, scanned the glade indifferently, not expecting to see any disturbance, but expecting it, for the air seemed to be charged with tenseness, unlike anything he had felt before.

"My Lord," one of the guards murmured; his voice cool. "I'm afraid we must fall back. Dusk is approaching, sire, and we have no cover from the poisonous arachnid that stalks this part of your kingdom."

"We continue until absolute necessary." Responded The Prince, and his tone flat and grim. "And when I say, Galathaneil, not you."

"Yes, sire."

Arnendur Galathaneil, senior protector of Mirkwood, SPM; had always been trying to prove the point to the young Prince that he and he only was in charge of the Dawn and Dusk patrol, and not the Prince himself. But the Prince was of a higher rank than anyone apart from his Father, the King Thranduil, so Galathaneil had no choice but to follow orders.

"Halt!" The Prince barked, freezing on the spot. "Do you hear that?"

Indeed they had; a soft rustling of the leaves had erupting all around them, yet there was no wind, or animals to be heard, or scented in the air. The Prince tensed, feeling an uninvited guest slowly approaching. They were along the edge of the Mirkwood border, so it was natural for any traveller to make it this far before being interrogated. But this was unlike any traveller they had felt, for the guest had to be at least inside the wood itself before the King and Prince felt their presence and warning the guards and warriors of it. This presence however, the Price had felt weeks before this, and he had patrolled the borders ever since, only to be disappointed each time.

Until this day had come to rest on their shoulders. That was when the uninvited guests presence, had felt magical.

The patrol slowly raised their arrows as the intruder came closer, and just as they were about to fire, the figure stepped out of the tree line and into their line of site.

It was a young female. She had flowing silky black hair that curled around her body like a waterfall. Her eyes were a deep mossy green and were full hope and determination and her skin was paler than moonlight itself.

It was Morgana Pendragon that had appeared before Middle-Earth.