Thranduil and Glorfindel's ride back to Mirkwood should have taken about three days. This was forgetting about goblins that could attack before they returned. Even if their passage was safe, a siege of the Grey Elves kingdom could have already began. The forces of Dol Guldur could have begun the destruction of the Elven race.

On the morning of the third day of their, so far unhindered ride, Thranduil heard voices from a nearby cave, on the outskirts of the forest.

"Another elf, with a horse. We will eat well tonight boys!" yelled the unmistakable squeal of a goblin.

"Slit his throat and drag him back to our cave!" another goblin cackled, a vile noise from his throat.

"We take them to Dol Guldur, the Ringwraiths can decide their fate," cried a man's voice.

"NO!" shouted a goblin. "We serve no one but Morgile now!"

"Kill my brother!" screamed a different man. "Then kill the other elf."

The wails of a dying man filled Thranduil's head.

He spun round to see four goblins scurrying towards him, swords drawn. He pulled a short sword from a hidden sheath. Black blood flowed from his fallen enemies. The remaining goblins stayed in their cave after hearing the cries of their cousins.

Thranduil drew his bow. The faint glow of Glorfindel's armour emitted from the back of the cave. Thranduil heard the tearing of ropes. He fired an arrow into a goblins head. Goblins swarmed towards their fallen comrade..

"He is here, he is spotted us!" came a goblin's shriek.

"KILL HIM!" shouted the man's voice.

A disturbance had arisen around Glorfindel. Goblins around crashed to the ground around him. More black blood coated the walls of the dark cave.

When all the goblins were dead, Glorfindel grabbed the man by the back of the cave.

"You are Morgile. You are a sick man!" cried the elf-lord.

"And you my elf friend are dead!" he laughed. Blood poured from the elf's forehead. Morgile had plunged a knife deep into the golden-haired head of Glorfindel.

Thranduil rushed to the aid of his friend at the sound of his cries of pain. A cold wind whipped around the cave. The sound of the corrupted man's laugh slowly faded into that of the wind. Morgile scuttled away from the cave. An arrow soared through the air behind him, coming to rest in the back of his skull.