Tauriel paced the bridge connecting the dark forests of Mirkwood to the palace gates in a state of considerable anxiety while Legolas stood nearby with his arms crossed.

"What's the point of being the Captain of the Guard, Legolas, when there's nothing to guard? Why stand here like idiots when we can be out there helping people, like Gilrael does?"

The Sinda raised an eyebrow. "You mean, risk your life every moment of the day like Gilrael does?"

Tauriel threw her hands up in exasperation. "But at least she's helping! Did you hear the latest reports from Gondor? They love her! I want that!"

"You want to love her?"

The elleth glared at him. "Don't give me that look!"

"What look?" Legolas asked innocently.

"The one where you raise an eyebrow and stare at me unconvinced!"

The prince sighed, and relaxed his gaze as Tauriel passionately declared, "I want to go places, Legolas! I want to travel around Middle Earth, helping people as I go. I don't want to just stand here all day guarding against nothing -okay, maybe a spider or two- while so many are in need of my help!"

"Why do you think those people are in need of help, Tauriel?"

"Because their lands get attacked by enemy forces!"

"Exactly!" Legolas triumphantly declared. "And they do not have diligent guards to protect them. Do you think the Woodland Realm will be left unattacked while the rest of Middle Earth suffers?"

Tauriel stared at him. "But-"

"Of course not! You are needed, Tauriel. Needed against a sudden attack, and future ones. They will come, and we must be prepared. Would you risk the lives of the people to…travel?"

Tauriel narrowed her eyes. "You have seen distant lands, Legolas, and I have not. How can you understand what I feel? I have walked the earth for hundreds of years, yet I have never been to Imladris or Lorien. Please, Legolas, ask your father. He will not listen to me, but he might listen to you."

He shook his head, though his eyes were sorrowful.

"I cannot, Tauriel. I'm sorry. It is more dangerous out there than you realize, especially alone."

"Then I'll go with you!"

"Tauriel! You, Gilrael, and I can't leave! You must have a sense of responsibility!"

The elleth looked hurt at his violent voice. "So why can Gilrael go so often and we never do?"

Legolas softened ever so slightly. "Gilrael has responsibilities elsewhere, Tauriel. Ours are here. We must learn to live with it."

Tauriel nodded numbly. "I-I'm going to my room."

She ran inside, ignoring the guards who watched her curiously and Legolas whose gaze burned her back. She wanted to listen to him, to obey him, and live with her life, but she just…couldn't.

It wasn't about the letter, though that was a big part of it. It was the feeling that something was out there, something very important that she was missing, right in front of her nose, if only she could leave the palace and follow her instincts.

Tauriel began to make a plan. Gilrael had hinted that the beginning of the prophecy was about to unfold. The King under the Mountain was soon to return. And the minute he did, she would know, and she would leave. Oh yes, there were ways to leave that palace unseen.

Mithrandir arose from unconsciousness with a pounding headache and freezing blood trickling through his veins. His hands were tied behind him, and he was laid on his side, right on a sharp rock. But in his cold state, he could not move to a better position.

Ahead of him was a tall, very tall person cloaked and hooded in black, with silver, pointed boots. It was talking, a whispering chatter that sent chills down Mithrandir's spine. He was a Nazgul.

Why isn't he going anywhere? Moving me? Mithrandir thought. Then he realized its horse, the only way the Nazgul could interact with the physical world, was nowhere to be seen.

Where is Gilrael? the wizard then thought frantically. All kinds of thoughts raced through his head, none of them good. He shifted, but the Ringwraith turned. The area where the face was supposed to be was covered in black shadows.

It leaned forward and grabbed Mithrandir's shoulders, forcing him to stand.

"Where is my horse?" it demanded.

The wizard shook from the pain shocking him through his arms, and the fear. "I-I don't know. I swear!"

The Ringwraith gnashed his teeth. "Where is the elf? Don't lie!"

Mithrandir shivered as the force around him tightened. "I h-have no idea!"

Suddenly, a clear voice rang through the air, and the stamp of hooves. Mithrandir was dropped onto the ground, and he groaned.

The Nazgul whirled around, facing Gilrael, who held the reins of his black horse. Mithrandir watched with a dizzy head as the two argued in Black Speech, a language that did not help the wizard's presence of evil in his mind.

It seemed they were bargaining: Nazgul's horse for Mithrandir. But he was most surprised that the Ringwraith did not attack Gilrael, and seemed to stand quite a distance from her.

After some time, Gilrael finally yelled, "I'll give you the horse and five gold coins for the wizard. That's the lowest I'll go!"

The Nazgul huffed, but nodded. The elf made the transaction, and to Mithrandir's horror, she lifted him onto her horse like baggage.

Then she turned to the Nazgul and commanded, "Your next task is to go back to Minas Morgul and report to Sauron. No raiding, killing, or stopping of any kind on the way. Now go!"

Mithrandir watched in utter surprise at the Ringwraith dipped his head and rode away.

Gilrael helped him down, all the while apologizing profusely.

"I am so sorry, Mithrandir. I sensed him coming, and I had to decide between fighting him and taking his horse, his only way of connecting with the physical world in order to travel. Of course I took the horse."

The wizard huffed as she rested him against the rocks. "Why? Isn't he afraid of you?"

Gilrael stared at him in shock. "Of course not! I am afraid of him!"

Mithrandir gladly accepted the blanket she handed him, since he was still shivering.

"You are? You certainly didn't look it."

The elleth crossed her arms. "If a warrior looks afraid when facing an enemy, that will be one extra disadvantage for her."

Mithrandir frowned. "Then why did you order him so freely, and why did he listen?"

Gilrael suddenly turned her back, and after some time, whispered, "He fears one who…thinks very highly of me."

But no matter how much the wizard pried, she refused to say another word, besides, "You will find traveling with me very easy, Mithrandir."

Her words were true. They traveled through the plains, toward the Misty Mountains, with little to no difficulty. All the while, Mithrandir observed her carefully.

The way she neatly packed her bags, her kindness, her willingness to serve, her diligence: all of it would be useful if she traveled…in a group. Yes, with others. Her skills could not be done without.

In a few days they arrived at the base of the Misty Mountains. It took that long, at least to Gilrael, because, as she complained, his horse was slow.

"Well, if your speedy horse gallops up this mountain, you'll get killed."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "Is that a dare?"

Mithrandir blinked. "A what?"

"A dare. Elladan and Elrohir – yes, I know – told me that if you refuse a dare, you're as weak as a woman. But dare or not, it is easier than you think to cross these mountains. There are hidden paths, dark, yes, but easy. We will take those."

"And how do you know about them?"

Gilrael stared ahead. "I…pass these mountains frequently. I found them. Come, Mithrandir. We should make it to the entrance into the mountains by sunset."

The wizard groaned. If they were supposed to make it up by sunset, that would mean they were really, actually, going to gallop up. And he wasn't sure his old bones would like it.

"Don't worry, Mithrandir! Your horse can handle it."

"I was not worried about my horse," he mumbled. But he readied the reins with reluctant resignation, and the horses took off on, as Gilrael had promised, a nearly invisible but easy path up.

Not including the jolts, the trip up was actually quite enjoyable, since Mithrandir could allow Gilrael to do all the navigating and horse guiding and he could sit back and enjoy the view.

It was just after sunset when they passed through the clouds and, after Gilrael slid a rock to the side, entered into the mountain.

Then Mithrandir was struck with a sense of foreboding, of fear and suffocating darkness that clenched around his heart. And he could not see the elleth in front of him, though his staff was alight with a blue flame.

"G-Gilrael?"

"No need to whisper!" she called out cheerfully. "And, by the way, my name is Gilith."

Gilith was Gilrael's Ranger name, the one she used when she wished for her true identity to stay hidden. Apparently, those tunnels were not very safe.

"C-can you go a little slower?"

"I am right in front of you, Mithrandir! Any slower and I go backwards."

"When are we going to rest for the night?"

Gilrael glanced behind at him, and the wizard jolted to realize her dark eyes were glowing silver.

"There is no rest in these tunnels, Mithrandir. Try to sleep on your horse, but we will not stop. Do not be discouraged, though. I think you would find it hard to sleep in here anyways."

Oh, that was encouraging. And there was no way he was going to sleep on the horse, and risk falling off. But Mithrandir had endured many sleepless nights, and he readied himself for yet another one.

After a few hours, the wizard started to hear scuffling sounds. Squeaking, and scratching.

"Gilith?"

She didn't respond, but he heard her unloose an arrow and string it onto her bow. The noises grew louder, and all at once, creatures dropped from the ceiling, swarming the tunnel, and one grabbed Mithrandir's throat. The sounds were deafening, so much chattering, and the wizard found himself slowly dropping off, the slimy hands tightening.

Then something whirred, his throat was freed, and Gilrael shouted something in Black Speech, a yell so loud with so much ferocity and power that it rippled down the tunnels, causing the creatures to gasp in surprise and freeze.

Even Mithrandir was frozen. He did not know her past, but he knew then more than ever that it was not a good one. For in the sight of Gilrael standing beneath him, her silver eyes flashing menacingly in the darkness, the slicing echoes of her fierce voice still resounding, Mithrandir thought only one thing: she was made to be evil.

A/N: I know the last part seems kind of...dark, but how could the Misty Mountains be otherwise? Anyways, don't worry. The next chapter will clarify.

Thanks for reading, and for dashing off a quick review/comment! :)