Hey, guys! I know this chapter took a while, but I had a bad case of writer's block. Plus, I'm back in school now, which means I'm going to have less time to write, but I'll try to update whenever I can.

That being said, enjoy this fairly short chapter.

Chapter 4: A Rising Storm

Admittedly, I had dreamt of this moment so many times, a dream I knew would never come true, yet I could never seem to rid my heart of it. Five years ago, Legolas had boarded the great white ship for the last time, sailing far into the West, to a place forever denied to me.

By now, I had come to terms with it. Sometimes, when I was far away on another adventure, I even started to forget about him.

But whenever I came back here, to this wood that held so many memories, he always found his way back into my thoughts. When I was among the trees, I swore I could hear him behind me, his voice passing through the wind as soft as a whisper and filling my heart with longing. Not once did I turn around because I knew it was nothing more than a cruel trick of my mind, but today the temptation was too great to ignore.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned around.

I first saw him in the far corner of my vision, no more than a blur to my eyes. Beside a tree he stood, clad in green and brown, just as I remembered. It was too perfect. He looked too much the same, as if he been plucked right out of my most precious memories. Even as he stood in front of me, I denied the truth of him, but still, despite my denial, his image never faded. He was staring right at me with those piercing blue eyes of his, eyes that could penetrate a person's soul. In that moment I knew he was real because even my mind could not recreate those eyes.

"Legolas," I whispered, unable to believe it.

Without a second thought, I ran to him as fast as my legs would let me, hoping he wouldn't vanish before I reached him, and then I collided into his chest and held him as tightly as I could.

Rarely did an elf ever lose his balance, but Legolas did, just for a moment. He recovered quickly, though, and chuckled quietly to himself.

I soaked it all in: the warmth of his body, the smoothness of his suede jerkin, the sound of his voice, even the smell of him: earthy and crisp as the oak leaves. If he hadn't laughed, I would have thought I was hugging a tree.

As my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, I pulled away and dropped my gaze to the ground. I was just about to deliver my sincere apology when I felt his hands on mine, pulling me back into his arms for an embrace even tighter than mine.

He hadn't said a word, and yet I could feel everything he was thinking. That was his way. He was an elf of few words but capable of great, unanticipated actions.

Having had to wait five years to touch him again, I was reluctant to pull away, but to stay in silence wasn't an option. I had too much to say, and I didn't know how long this bliss would last.

"You're here," I said, and only when the words came out did it finally sink in: Legolas really was here, right in front of me. "How long have you been here?"

The right corner of his mouth twitched upwards, forming a small smirk. "Nearly two months."

"Two months? I can't believe ... If only I'd known, I would have returned sooner—and Elladan didn't tell me! He hid it from me, that sneaky little snake!"

"Do not be angry with him," Legolas said. "I asked him not to tell you because I wanted to surprise you."

"Then you are cruel as well." It was impossible for me to pretend to be angry. In seconds, my lips broke into a grin, which then softened into a smile as Legolas's hand found my face. His fingers gently caressed my cheek like it was a fine sculpture.

"You look so different," he said in fascination, running his fingers through my tangled brown hair.

"You look exactly the same." Just as I remember. "How long will you stay?" I asked, fearing the answer.

He smiled. "Until you ask me to leave."

His answer caught me by surprise. "Then I will be selfish and keep you here forever."

"If that is your wish," he replied earnestly, but then his blue eyes dimmed with regret. "But I must leave you now," he went on, and when the worry took over my face, he added, "for only a moment, I promise. There are certain preparations that still need to be made. Will you come to my father's halls?"

Again, he surprised me. "Your father's halls?"

"Yes. In three days, will you come? Please, say you will."

I didn't even have to think about it. "Of course."

"Great."

He tried to back away, but his movements were hindered by my tight grip on his jerkin. I hadn't even realized I was holding him so close. Embarrassed, I was just about to pull away when Legolas caught my hand and held it gently in his.

Slowly, he lifted it to the level of his gaze and looked it over with wonder. It was nothing special really, my hand, just a five-fingered piece of warm-blooded flesh held together by muscle and bone. The tips were covered with tiny cuts and the nails were broken and caked with dirt. If Mother had seen my hand like this, she would have made me scrub it until the flesh was aching and bleeding, but Legolas just placed a soft kiss on my knuckles and smiled.

"I will see you again soon, Anariel," he said, and then he quickly kissed my cheek. "Until then."

Long after he'd left, I was still standing with my hand resting upon the cheek that bore his kiss. "Until then."

Upon returning to our hut, I found Turin sitting upon a mound of feathers that was once his bed. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he tossed one feather into the air and then used his breath to try to keep it floating. It was hovering just above his nose when I entered the room, and it hit the floor soon after.

Turin looked up at me with a tired expression. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've been horrid company lately, and I didn't mean to say what I said. I'm just frustrated, I guess, and it only gets worse when I have nothing to keep my mind busy."

He climbed to his feet quicker than I'd ever seen, and his voice was suddenly full of cheer. "I know, let's go on another adventure, okay? I know you've always wanted to see the Southlands, so let's go right now! Perhaps we'll like to so much that we'll want to stay there."

It had been so long since I'd seen him so excited about something, and it broke my heart to have to turn him down.

"I'd like that very much Turin," I said, "but something amazing has happened: Legolas has returned!"

His shoulders sank. "Legolas ... has returned?" His voice was heavy and full of dismay. "For how long?"

"I don't know, but he wants me to visit him in the Woodland Realm. You remember that place, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember. It was beautiful, and you loved it there."

I nodded. "I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'd like for you to come with me. Please, say you will. I know I'll be much less nervous with you around."

I was worried that he would reject me. In fact, I was certain he would, but then I saw him smile that sweet, conceding smile. "How can I refuse when you're so excited? I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. Of course I'll go."

Before he could wiggle away, I pulled Turin close and showered him with kisses. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"Okay, okay!" Chuckling, he gently pushed me away. "But we must first go to Mirkwood."

"Mirkwood?" My smile fell and my mouth went dry. "But why?"

Why would he want to visit such a horrible place? I had never seen the city with my own eyes—I dared not go there—but I had heard many stories, terrifying ones filled with evil, darkness, and suffering above all else.

"I'm in need of a blacksmith," he explained. "I hear the ones in Mirkwood are quite good."

Despite Elrohir's warning to respect the blade, Turin had once again ruined his sword. I hadn't seen the blade, but the following morning, as we began our journey to Mirkwood, I saw the victim: a lone black tree, its trunk ripped and torn as if it had been tortuously flogged, and its bark flesh scattered about the ground.

When I first saw the tree, I instantly thought of Turin and the scars he bore on his back, and as I brushed my fingers against the dry bark, I could have sworn I felt blood—Turin's blood.

"Come along," Turin said as he walked past me, granting the tree not even the briefest glance.

I rubbed my fingers together, allowing the warm blood to soak into my skin. How things have changed, I thought. You're no longer the victim, are you, Turin? But what will you become now?

As we neared the city gates of Mirkwood, I thought of the great forest that had been cruelly destroyed so that this city could be built. The trees' charred wood formed the city walls like some kind of vile insult to nature.

When we passed onto the Old Forest Road, I stopped for a moment and looked carefully at either side of me: the sleeping forest on one side and the thick smoke of industry on the other, polluting the air and poisoning the trees. Immediately, I wanted to go back to the peaceful wood, but Turin was rushing towards the gates without hesitation.

"Come, Ana," he said to me in a cheerful voice. "Haven't you ever wondered what lies beyond these gates?"

"Turin, don't you remember what happened here, what we saw?"

"No, what did we see?"

My shoulders sank. He didn't remember any of it. Never would I forget what I had seen on this road five years ago: the horses as black as night, the old, rickety wagon with the creaky wheels, and the iron cage that held the hobbits, their eyes full of sadness, fear, and despair. Back then, Legolas had stopped me from chasing down the wagon, but today, there was nobody to keep me from walking through that gate.

As soon as we entered the city, an unsettling feeling came over me, and when I sought the sun for comfort, I found only darkness. Here, the air was so thick that not even the sun's light could penetrate it. And so, to illuminate their gloomy city, the people of Mirkwood built great fires that burned through the day and the night and populated the town with strange shadows that seemed to move on their own.

"Mirkwood is the city of lies," Lord Aemon once told me, "and Lord Thalis is the biggest lie of them all. He rules the city from his castle, never stepping into the light of day, always hiding his face behind a black cloak. He claims to be a noble, but I believe he is a conjurer of evil, a worshiper of the Dark Lord. He speaks to shadows and fills the hearts of men with malice."

Lord Aemon had a habit of exaggerating things, but I believed there was some truth to his words.

While Turin visited the blacksmith, I wandered over to the main square, where a large group had gathered to listen to a man's speech. Upon the gallows he stood, waving a banner high in the air. It was not the purple, raven-bearing banner of Mirkwood. This one was black, just black, plain and unadorned, but every time it fluttered, the crowd cheered louder and louder.

"The time is now!" he declared. "From the capital in the north to the capital in the south, they speak of it. From the golden shores of Belfalas to the deepest depths of the Iron Hills, they speak of it. Listen, and you will hear it. The Age of Revolution is coming! For too long, the nobles have shat on us, but not anymore!"

From his belt he drew a dagger and hurled it straight into the siding of the local tavern. "The first sword has been drawn. Stand with us now, or forever remain slaves!"

While the people celebrated, two armed guards came to bring the contentious man to justice. "In the name of Lord Thalis, we place you under arrest. Will you come peacefully, or do you intend to resist?"

The man smirked. "Whether I resist or not, I'll still be hanged as a traitor to the crown, and I can't have that." As he spoke, his fingers inched toward the leather pouch at his waist. "So I'm afraid I must resist you."

He threw down what looked like a rock, and suddenly the gallows went up in smoke, making everybody near it start to choke and cough. When the smoke finally cleared, the man was gone, leaving the guards scratching their heads in confusion.

He knows magic! I thought, and then I followed a small group of people as they flocked to the tavern that bore the man's dagger. Everybody was pushing and shoving to get a better look, but I somehow managed to force my way to the front.

"The lord of Dale has been murdered!" a man shouted before I had a chance to read the announcement that was pinned to frame of the building. According to the notice, the lord of Dale had been found dead in his chambers yesterday morning, stripped of all his clothes, his throat slit and his hands and feet bound to the columns of his four-poster bed.

At the bottom of the notice was a strange message written in a different ink:

The lord of Dale certainly enjoyed his nightly conquests. Pity, he didn't seem to enjoy this one.

- B.I.S.

"B.I.S. What does that mean?"

"It's the Brothers in Shadow," answered an old man, who stood beside me.

"The Brothers in Shadow?" I repeated. "Who are they?"

"Nobody knows. Nobody has seen them. Only their acts are known. But this was not the first, and it will not be the last, I assure you. Many more will die before they are finished." Then he disappeared along with the dispersing crowd, leaving me alone with the note.

"The Brothers in Shadow," I mused, fingering the dagger that the mysterious man left behind. "Who are you?"

With the main square quiet once more, I continued my exploration of the city. All around me, on nearly every building, I saw the Mirkwood city banner rippling in the air, giving the raven flight in its purple sky. These birds seemed to be following me everywhere I went, watching from above like spies.

But whose spies, I wondered. Was Lord Thalis watching me from his dark castle, or was I just being paranoid?

I alone seemed to hold this feeling, for everyone around me was carrying on as they normally would. In the market square, I saw a group of young children playing Orcs and Elves, a common game among children of the Fourth Age. The object was simple: the team of elves had to chase and capture the team of orcs. To make the game more challenging, special rules could be added. For instance, if an orc was able to tag one of his captured comrades without getting captured himself, the orcs could stage a "rebellion," which turned the tables and allowed the orcs to become the chasers. I myself was never very good at that game; I usually got caught within the first few minutes, but Turin was always there to save me and start a rebellion.

As I watched the children play, I saw another person running among them. He was as small as a child, but his face was that of an adult. A hobbit. Holding his bleeding arm, he stumbled along, his steps wavering as if he was about to pass out from exhaustion. When he was within ten feet of me, he finally collapsed to the ground, and I rushed over to him.

"Are you all right?" I asked as I reached down to help him. That was when I saw the mark burned into the back of his neck—the boar of Calembel. This hobbit was a slave to the ruling house of Calembel, but what was he doing in Mirkwood?

The hobbit forced his head up from the ground and stared back at me with half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. "Help," he whispered in a hoarse voice as he extended his bruised hand out to me. "Please."

"Who did this to you?" I asked.

His eyes went straight to the banner that hung above me. The raven was looking down at both of us.

"Here, I'll help you," I said, taking his hand. Just as I got him to his feet, a guard came and ripped him away from me, savagely throwing him back into the dirt. "Stop! What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, miss. He won't be bothering you anymore." The guard grabbed him by the scruff of his neck—his hand was so big he could wrap it completely around the hobbit's neck— and yanked him up. "Thought you could get away, eh? Think you're pretty clever, don't you? Well, now you'll pay for it. The punishment for escape is death, you know, and it won't be nice and quick, either."

The poor hobbit lacked the strength to even speak. He just hung there like a limp corpse hanging from a noose.

"Please, stop!" I cried. "You can't do this!"

I made the mistake of getting too close, and the guard roughly pushed me back. "This has nothing to do with you, little girl!" he shouted. "Another word, and I'll send you to the gallows with this one."

He gave his back to me and started carrying the hobbit away. In an act of desperation, I snatched a rock from the ground and threw it as hard as I could, hitting the back of the guard's helm. I'd hoped that it would knock him out or at the very least make him stumble, but this man was as sturdy as a mountain.

He turned around, his face burning red with anger. "Assaulting an officer, huh? You'll hang for this, girl!"

He dropped the hobbit, who then took off running, and came at me. I was prepared to run as well, but then I saw Turin come out of nowhere and draw his newly sharpened sword.

"Stay away from her," he threatened.

The guard gave Turin one look and then busted out laughing. "And who is this, her one-armed knight? Do you even know how to use that sword, boy?"

"Aye, I know how to use it well."

"Let's see, then." He drew his own sword. "Come at me, boy!"

Without hesitation, Turin charged his enemy, and the two engaged in battle: strength against strength, steel against steel. Turin had the speed, but he could not compete with the guard's sheer strength. Still, he tried like the arrogant fool he was.

When their swords collided for the first time, it created a force so strong that even I could feel it from several feet away. The great wind swept through the entire city like a violent storm, tearing the roofs clean off houses and blowing people across the ground like leaves caught in the breeze. Everyone sought cover, including Turin, who came to me and used his body to shield me.

Debris was flying all around, striking people dead as they tried to escape. One man was crushed when his shop suddenly collapsed on top of him, and a few feet away, a woman lay impaled by three pieces of wood: two in her chest, and one in her stomach.

Even with Turin's body heat to warm me, the air felt unbearably cold. And as I stared through the vortex of debris, I saw three strange shapes in the sky. Their large forms were greatly distorted by the storm, but I could have sworn I saw wings.

Dragon wings.

Dragons in Middle-earth? This could be problematic for Turin, especially after what happened in the first story.

So Ana finally saw Mirkwood, and it is a pretty bad place for hobbits. Meanwhile, Revolutionaries are trying to get the people of Middle-earth to rebel against the nobles. And who are the Brothers in Shadow? You'll have to keep reading to find out.

And of course Legolas is finally back! I know he wasn't featured very heavily in this chapter, but he'll be more present in the chapters to come because Ana's going to the Woodland Realm! It's gonna be fun, so keep reading, okay?

Please, review!