Many thanks to Thug, Homer, and Jill. We're going to try and look deeper at the Guild. There is dissention in the ranks and a bit of intrigue, which I hope to expand on. Who will you be able to trust here?

The Guild of Elements

Chrys Menelrana

"I don't think that is such a good idea," Chrys said to Fëatur, who was obviously irritated by the comment.

Turning away, Fëatur raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Why not? It would be the prudent thing to do." He leaned heavily on the railings of the balcony of the Guild Tower, overlooking the fertile lands below. Fëatur had been somewhat of a sore spot for Chrys, always being contrary and often acting entirely on his own. His obsessive love for wearing black didn't engender much love either.

The Noldor king sighed, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Well, first off, traveling alone with a month-old infant is not as easy as you would think. Do you know the first thing about children?" he asked, not really caring for the baby's welfare, but instead, wanting to needle Fëatur.

Fëatur didn't bother to face him. "That is unimportant. We must get her away from Ardor. The Seer will sense her."

Chrys looked to Talan, the warrior Elf, and rolled his eyes. "And the Dark Lord won't? Might I remind you that you will be taking her closer to Morgoth or have you forgotten that Angand is that way?"

Now, Fëatur looked over. Tension rippled along his jaw and he was holding back his feelings like a dam. He inhaled slowly and spoke slowly to control his words, "I served the Dark Lord…for many years. I know his mind. He will focus all of his attention on finding the Silmiril. Turgon's fortress is hidden."

"Gondolin?" Talan asked, in reference to King Turgon's wondrous city, that was concealed in the Vale of Tumladen and encircled by the Echoriath, a range of mountains. "How do you propose to enter?"

"Let's just say that…I have pull with certain powers."

Elerior, the wielder of Mentalism, searched the mind of the rogue Elf and saw that his intentions were good. "Lord Menelrana, I sense that Fëatur has a plan in mind. Perhaps we should allow him to continue."

Chrys didn't like what he was hearing. "Perhaps Fëatur could have shared his plan with us prior to bringing that hell-spawned child in our midst. What is so important about her anyway?"

Fëatur chuckled sarcastically. "So, this is all about you not being kept in the know? My source gave my information, I saw the opportunity to further our cause, and I took it. Otherwise, we'd still be debating whether or not to even stage the rescue…all the while, Ardana would grow in power. The bureaucracy that we've created seems to serve the enemy's purpose, not our own."

"Might I remind you," said Elerior, "That you chose to join the alliance, but not to lead us. Though I trust your instincts and your experience, you are bound by the same oaths that we all took."

"Indeed," Fëatur said, now thoughtful. "I am not known to be a person of my word, but everyone deserves a second chance. I would ask you to trust in my judgement in that I need to take Morelen from here. Her mere presence in Ardor jeopardizes our cause. If she were reunited with her brother and trained by Ardana in the dark arts, we would be hard pressed."

Chrys' expression softened at Fëatur's conciliatory tone. "I see your point. However, why not go to Nargothrond, the fortress of my kinsman, Orodreth?"

Fëatur looked into Chrys' eyes for impact. "To be honest, nowhere is safe, but take no offense when I say that Orodreth lacks the wisdom of his brother, Finrod. I have heard talk of a man named Túrin, a great warrior, but also lacking in wisdom. My sources say that he is planning a direct assault against the Dark Lord. Foolishness…nothing but foolishness."

"There has to be a stand at some point," said Talan fervently. "We cannot just let Morgoth push us back, league by league. We had him contained until the Dagor Bragollach when he unleashed his fires and Balrogs. It has to stop at some point and we have to do it ourselves."

"True…but now is not the time and Nargothrond is not the place. I can see no other alternative."

Chrys held up his hand to stop further debate. "Very well. I see your mind is made up. I don't condone this course of action, but you have insight into things that I cannot see," he said with a sense of resignation. "You are right in saying that no place is safe. The Court has resumed raiding again and that fiend, Gorthaur, brings storms that hammer our coasts."

A faint smile broke across Fëatur's lips. "I'm glad that you will not stand in my way. I will do my best to protect the child and to keep her from the enemy."

"We will do our part and request that Lyrin assist as well. Go with Varda."

Fëatur nodded curtly and strode from the balcony to take the infant from the arms of a waiting maid. Chrys watched him go with mixed feelings – though he was glad Fëatur's contrary attitude would be someone else's problem, the former servant of Morgoth always had great insight into the mind of the Dark Lord. He pondered the fate of the child for a moment and how she and her brother would play into the Court's schemes.

"What purpose do these spawn of the Dark Lord play in his plots? Surely no good can come from their existence," he said to Ralian.

"I, for one, would not weep if she perished on the long journey north."

Chrys and Talan nodded. "With the taint of the Dark Lord upon her," Chrys mused out loud, "she is likely to grow into a monstrosity."

"And what do we propose to do about the abomination that remains with Ardana?" asked Talan.

Chrys shook his head, unsure of what to do. "We cannot assault the Citadel of Ardor – we have not the strength in arms. Valkrist's Windlords would spy us out before we could move. We will have to devise a more stealthy plan."

"We should consult with Lyaan in this matter," suggested Ralian.

Chrys peered over the railing to see Fëatur riding off with Morelen, the hooves of his horse clattering atop the cobblestones of the road. "Agreed. I sense that time is growing short."

Ty-Ar-Rana – Home of the Three

Lyaan

Atop a triangular platform, sat a 60 foot pyramid with a triangular door on each face. The structure was constructed of bluish metal alloy that gleamed in the morning sun. Palm trees and well-tended fern grottos surrounded the pyramid along with peaceful ponds full of lillies and swimming frogs.

Elven riders trotted up a cobblestone path that wound through the grounds up to the structure. Chrys Menelrana, the King of the Noldor in the South, reined in his steed and dismounted, planting his soft boots in the rich soil. The leaders of the Guild followed suit and trod the ground up to the pyramid where Lyaan stood waiting.

"Well met," said the leader of the Three, clad in his characteristic white robe. Although his expression was serene, his eyes betrayed his anxiety about what was to come. "I sensed your arrival. Come, we have much to discuss."

The Guild followed Lyaan up the stairs to the pyramid and the portal faded with a shimmer, leaving an open path into the structure. There, the woman, Lysa stood, along with Lyrin. They continued on to the Hall of Reception, where magnificent paintings of the Two Trees adorned the walls along with lifelike images of the Blessed Realm of Valinor. Lyaan moved in front of a series of statues, bearing the physical likeness of the revered Valar.

"It is good that you have come," he said. "The Court begins to move again. Though we have recruited many mannish allies, the Court matches us, move for move. It is as if they have eyes in our council. Two of our secret scouting parties were ambushed and wiped out."

Chrys saw where he was driving at. "Are you speaking of Fëatur? I do not like the connection that he shares with his twin sister. I have long suspected that it goes both ways."

"Although the Court believes that he is dead," countered Ralian. "Or…do you think otherwise."

"All we have is his word on that issue," added Elerior and a palpable sense of paranoia began to grow.

Lysa shook her head in aggravation, letting her blonde hair whirl about her head. "Enough…three centuries later, we still bicker and debate over these issues. One day soon, Ardana will be at our doorstep and we will be out of time."

The boyish-looking Lyrin raised his hand in support of his friend. "We must come up with a plan to counter the enemy. At this time, we have no idea what they are up to or what they propose to do with these twins that Fëatur spoke of. There is a large hole in our knowledge and I, for one, do not feel comfortable with it."

Lyaan looked to his younger brother with a new sense of respect. For many eons, Lyrin was prone to play and frivolity, rarely being able to focus at the task at hand. Something had changed within the youthful-looking Elf and Lyrin saw a hint of maturity forming. "My brother speaks truly. We must find a way to spy out the intentions of the enemy. We must also find a way to infiltrate the Citadel. I suspect that it will be the focal point to all of our efforts."

The members of the Guild murmured for a moment before nodding assent.

Lyaan looked from face to face to solidify his union. "I am still concerned about leaks in our alliance," he said gravely. "We must ponder this and take appropriate measures. For good or ill, Fëatur is leagues away by now on his way north with the child. If he were the source, then we should be free from troubles. If he should return soon, we may be able to use it to our advantage."

Talan's eyes lit up. "What do you propose?"

"No harm should come to him…yet. We have no proof and I'll not condemn anyone on mere suspicion," Lyaan said firmly. "What I propose is that we feed him false information and should the enemy respond, we'll know for sure."

"I think that is a wise course of action," Chrys said with a slight bow.

"Until then, we will counter the Court as best we can and lay out our objectives," Lyaan said in conclusion as he rolled out a map of the region of Ardor. He looked up at a painting of the Sun and furrowed his brows. "What I would give to know what the enemy is planning."

The North of Middle Earth – The Field of Tumhalad

Fëatur

On the field between the Rivers Ginglith and Narog, the Noldor Mentalist sat atop his horse, surveying the field of rotting corpses and broken war machines. Bodies of Elves, men, orcs, goblins, and trolls lay scattered as far as the eye could see along with shattered catapults and broken spears. Pillars of smoke still wound lazily upward from the smoldering fires of a recent battle. Crows circled overhead while many of their fellows pecked at the fallen, tearing at flesh and entrails. Fëatur covered his nose and mouth with a sleeve of his black robe to ward off the overwhelming stench of death. He reached out to grasp a torn banner that bore the sigil of Orodreth, King of Nargothrond.

Morelen sat on a pony beside him. She had grown to become a tall, precocious child. She looked upon the nightmare scene without emotion, her blue eyes absorbing all that she observed. Like her mentor, she was also clad in ebony which matched her short hair. Her eerie detachment brought a shiver to Fëatur's spine.

"Are you not bothered by the smell," Fëatur asked as his blond hair whipped about his face from the wind. The assault on his senses nearly gagged him – he had never seen the aftermath of a pitched battle.

She ignored the question. "The host of Orodreth has been slaughtered," she said, matter-of-factly. "Nargothrond must be near."

"It is a short distance to the south. We should continue on our journey," he responded, trying to urge her along and away from this place of death.

Morelen eased her legs into her horse and it walked ahead a few paces. She looked on the ground from side to side as if searching for something.

Fëatur looked over to the setting Sun. "It's getting dark. What are you doing? We should get moving."

"Do not fret," the girl chastised, drawing an irritated grunt from Fëatur. "The Orcs are notoriously bad looters," she said knowingly. Fëatur could now see the awesome mind of the blood of a Vala awakening and it made him nervous to say the least. His apprentice could someday soon become the master. He wondered if the guild's feelings about her were correct. Morelen pointed down at something and leapt from her horse to land on the muddy ground. Like Fëatur, she scanned the horizon and noted how she would be able to walk from body to body for miles without touching the earth.

"Here," she said, motioning to a headless body, "lies Orodreth. I can see where the dragon smashed his personal guard." A short distance away, the ground was charred and torn up as if gouged by the claws and tail of a monster. She reached down and picked up a bow with a broken string. "I'm sure this will prove handy."

Fëatur was growing impatient now. "I'm sure it will, but the servants of the enemy are still about. It will grow more dangerous after dark."

Morelen suddenly became conciliatory. "You are right, Uncle," she said. "We will need to find some shelter."

"There is a forest west of here. We can remain hidden for the night."

"We should stay at Nargothrond," she said boldly as the Sun touched the horizon, blazing in hues of red and gold. "I have read that it is a wondrous place."

"Out of the question," he said sternly. "And it was…it was a wondrous place."

Morelen shrugged as she drew Orodreth's dagger and looked at the long, graceful curve of the blade. It had a wooden handle, inlaid with gold leaf and ithildin shapes like the leaves of a tree. Tengwar runes were inscribed on the blade near the back. She made a mock stabbing gesture at Fëatur with the weapon and then tucked it in her belt. She looked the body over and pulled the king's cloak from his shoulders. "I should like to find his helm, but I suspect that it is in Glaurung's horde by now," she said as she climbed back on her horse and settled into the saddle. As the Sun disappeared to cast the world in shadow once more, Morelen gave her mentor a mischievous look.

"No…don't even think ab-"

She spurred her horse, and dashed off southward.