Legolas dropped his head down into his hands, strands of his blond hair clinging to his fingers with sweat. The past few hours had been the most rushed of his life -- when the healers had finally been able to administer the cure to Seasa, they were appalled to realize that the poison was too far into Seasa's system for the antidote to have a proper effect. There had been no choice but to bleed her; black blood oozed from the wound they created in her stomach, but the venom had become thick, oily and dense, blocking the blood from traveling throughout the body. Luckily, however, she hadn't had enough of the poison in her to complete clog her bloodstream, and though she lost several pints of blood, they had managed to remove the majority of the poison from her system. The antidote had been forced down her throat, and now, as she lay in a hasty bundle of soft blankets and cloaks, color was once again returning to her face.

While the healers, Sindatil and Legolas hovered over Seasa, the rest of the elves had taken the initiative. Seeing as things weren't going well with their captive, Astalder had ordered a number of flets to be built. Flets were originally make-shift homes used by the elves of Lorien, but wood elves everywhere would use them when they needed swift shelter, and as night had fallen, Legolas had been extremely grateful for his friend's quick thinking.

Candle light flickered in the dark of the night, causing eerie shadows to play across the floor of the flet and the trunk of the trees. Seasa was in a sound sleep, but Legolas and Sindatil sat with their backs against the tree trunk. Above them, below them, and around them, the rest of the company was either on watch, or taking their share of the rest in one of the three flets the company had built.

There was a rustling in the leaves below them, something that didn't sound to be of woodland creature's movements, and Legolas glanced over. Sindatil's eyes were open, but he was lost in thought, having not heard the noise. Perhaps it is that raven from before, Legolas thought as he slowly got to his feet. Maybe he has come back to see how Seasa fared. He was sure the rest of the company would have heard the noise, but his interest was piqued. He glanced over the edge of their makeshift shelter, surprised to see several elves in the flet below them conversing and talking in worried, muted tones. Astalder and another elf whom Legolas couldn't see were speaking in hushed tones, as if Astalder didn't wish to be overheard -- And that would make sense, Legolas thought anxiously, As besides myself and Sindatil, Astalder would be the highest ranking. But what is going on? Why does Astalder wish for secrecy? The worry in Astalder's brow deepened as he continued talking, now gesturing with his hands and shaking his head. Legolas straightened, frowning, glancing at Sindatil. "Sindatil, I'm going to go speak with Astalder for a moment. Keep an eye on Seasa; Elear had warned she may awake and need more of the antidote."

Sindatil had gotten to his feet as Legolas spoke. "Yes, my lord." He agreed softly, his eyes flickering into the Prince's. "Is anything amiss?"

Legolas shrugged, his muscles rippling beneath his light tunic. "I am not sure; I shall return quickly to inform you."

Sindatil nodded, leaning back against the tree trunk with his arms crossed. "Yes, your highness."

Legolas quickly descended to the lower flet, his eyes trained on Astalder. As his feet dropped onto the firm floor of the flet, his eyes locked on the newly arrived elf and with a start, he recognized him as the King's personal messenger. What was so urgent that a high ranking official such as Wingiâ had to be sent out in the depths of the night?

Now greatly distressed, Legolas simply waved his hand and several of the elves standing guard gave short bows. "Please," he said simply, meaning they should not treat him as such. But they completed their bows, and Astalder looked up, his relief palpable. "Oh, Prince Legolas. Lord Wingiâ has troublesome news for you and Captain Sindatil."

Legolas could feel the eyes of all of his men glued to them, and gently shook his head. "Come," he said, gesturing to the flet above. "Sindatil awaits us, and we can speak freely there. Are you injured?" He asked, noticing Wingiâ was tightly clutching his left shoulder, a thick red substance oozing through his clenched fingers, but Wingiâ simply shook his head, his fair face anxious. "I must speak with you first, Prince Legolas," he said, his grave voice hoarse, and Legolas nodded. Injuries were always horrible to deal with, but duty came first, especially in the kingdom of Mirkwood. With Astalder and Legolas's assistance, Wingiâ managed to get into the quieter, more private flet upset. His face had paled dramatically, and his lips were a bruised, bluish purple color.

"Orcs," Wingiâ rasped. "About twenty miles south of Old Forest Road. They're burning trees and taking captives as they go. They marched out of Dol Guldur, headed straight towards Thranduil's Halls and Old Forest Road, but they seemed to have stopped and are simply maundering around."

Legolas eyes bore into Wingiâ's, his face horribly troubled. He spoke in a hushed voice, the flickering light of the candle casting their faces into sharp relief. "But what of the Mirkwood Guard?" Legolas asked immediately, naming a elite section of Mirkwood warriors. Many of the Guard were with him on this particular mission, Legolas realized, but there should still be about seventy or so elves left to disband the murdering group of orcs. But Wingiâ shook his head. "The rest of the guard was down at Dol Guldur, but the guard was scouting the south end of the citadel. The entire congregation of orcs slipped out of the North entrance, while another was sent to battle with the rest of the Mirkwood Guard. They were forced to retreat, but they overtook the orcs--" Suddenly, Wingiâ stopped abruptly, dropping his eyes. He touched his fingers to his lips and then to his heart before murmuring, "Quental was shot, my lord. The Guard attempted to rush him back to the Halls, but they didn't have any healers with them, and.." Wingiâ sighed, "he fell."

Legolas's eyes widened, his face paling severely and Sindatil clutched the tree trunk for support. "Quental? But he is but a child! Was this not his first mission?"

Wingiâ shook slightly, his body aching from the injuries—Legolas, distraught though he was, quickly noticed the older elf's struggle to stay standing. "Here, please – rest." He grasped the elf's elbow, slowly easing the three of them to the ground. "Quental was my nephew," Wingiâ said slowly. "I don't know how I shall tell his mother. " He continued to shake, and Sindatil slowly pulled the elf's hand away from his arm. A deep, dark wound, including a hunk of missing flesh, glared at them, and Wingiâ glanced down, almost as if he had forgotten about it. "Oh, the spiders," he said dismissively. "I almost didn't recall-- there is a congregation of them directly north of you. You should double your guard tonight."

"And we will," Legolas assured the distraught elf. He spoke in a soothing, consoling tone; Wingiâ had gone through a lot to deliver this message to him and the elf's adrenaline was all but spent. In the same tone, Legolas addressed Sindatil, eyes still on Wingiâ. "Captian, please go inform Astalder to double our guard and tell the rest of the company that we will awake before dawn tomorrow. We shall go see how the area of Old Forest Road stands before returning to the Palace." "Yes, my lord." Sindatil agreed, slowly rising. He shot a glance at Seasa; she hadn't moved, but he could have sworn he heard her breathing rather loudly if she was in a sound sleep.

Meanwhile, Seasa was awake and alert, listening intently. Her limbs were still rather stiff, and it took her several moments before she realized where she was and what was happening. Her heat hammered in her chest, as she once again realized that she was captive. She could only imagine Legolas's anger when he realized she was waking, but she turned her attention back to the Prince. Wingiâ, at the prompting of Sindatil, had been brought down to the other flet to receive medical attention. The elves seemed unnerved by the news of the Orc's movements at Old Forest Road when the Guard was nearby. They were becoming bolder and bolder; even Mirkwood's elite guard could not beat back the beasts. Astalder slowly climbed into the upper flet, his eyes landing on Legolas's silhouette. The Prince was standing at the edge of the flet, his eyes lost in thought. He seemed thoughtful; his hands were crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on the dim light of the stars.

"Your highness?"

Legolas didn't turn around, just waved his hand, inviting him closer. "Yes, Astalder?"

The younger elf joined him at his perch over looking the forest, but didn't reply. The two just stared over the tree tops of Mirkwood, the occasional shriek rising out of the wilderness.

"You heard of Quental's death, my lord?" Astalder asked after a moment, his voice soft. Legolas nodded, and after a moment, voiced his thoughts at Astalder's unspoken plea.

"So much death – but what can be done? Sauron has Mirkwood in his eye and will not rest until he holds it in his hand. That, I understand. But what does he want with us elves? To make us slaves of the Lord of the Ring? Should, Valar forbid, Mirkwood fall to the dark powers, elves would simply need to forsake this land and head for the Valinor. Surely, Sauron knows that?"

"Sauron is not a fool, but he is as dangerous as one." Asatalder answered quietly. "But I do not believe the elves are his target. Indirectly, we may be. He knows if he manages to conquer our lands we will simply flee – and leave Middle Earth to its fate. I believe the Kingdom of Men is his true target – they are much more easily corrupted and more flexible then elves. Dwarves, they will hide in their mountain caves until Orcs overrun them. But Men? Men will ride up and meet him and perish in battle. Look at a map of Middle Earth, my lord. Mirkwood would give Sauron yet another vantage point to launch his attack on the World of Man. "

Legolas looked over sharply. "Do you truly believe that?"

Astalder sighed. "I do."

Legolas shook his head, sighing. "And elves are aiding him in this course – that is the most painful stab of all."

Astalder's jaw clenched. "I agree, my lord. I don't understand that riddle at all. Elves are naturally good. Man was made weaker than those of the Elder race – they are known to fall to the lust of power. But Elves?"

"Elves are born good, but if evil is there only means of survival, they will take it." The voice startled Legolas and Astalder, and they both turned round sharply to find themselves face to face with Seasa. She had risen and was standing in behind them, her body shaking with the effort of merely standing. Neither elf made a move to help her, however, and stood staring at her. Astalder glanced at Legolas but the Prince's face was impassive, his eyes cold. How dare she interrupt, intrude on a private conversation between two high-ranking officers of the Mirkwood Guard? It is your own fault, Legolas berated himself, for having such an open discussion in front of her, even if we though her to be in the realm of dreams.

Still, no one said anything, and Seasa, her body and mind still sluggish from her experiences, didn't realize the dangerous water she was treading in. "Some elves have suffered through unspeakable experiences, things not even you'd see in your nightmares. Did they suffer these things at the hands of the elves? I think not. You yourself said that men were the weaker race, who lust for power – power through the means of flesh and blood, of elven kind even. The elves who work with the enemy do not work against elf kind, they work against man – man, who is so crazed for power, who cares so little for the value of human life. You think you see everything –" her voice grew reckless, mocking now as bright spots danced in front of her eyes. The antidote had exhausted her, and she was still missing dangerous amounts of blood. She swayed slightly on the spot, and her face blanched. She still needed her respite, but for many years, she had heard the precise opposite of what Legolas was saying – and she had heard it proclaimed as exact. She involuntary knew Legolas was lying, and felt the need to correct him. She rubbed her eye as she paused for breath, and Legolas and Astalder exchanged looks. The spots continued to twinkle brightly but she forced herself to continue, "—you think you see everything from your hallowed halls and tree perches, but you do not see the wickedness of men – there is nothing left in the race but lies, and deceit – Middle Earth would be better off destroyed than in the hands of – "

"Silence!"

Seasa was cut short by Legolas terse, harsh command. "You know not of what you speak, she-elf!"

But Seasa was now gasping for breath, her limbs shaking as she clutched a tree branch for support. Darkness was creeping into her vision -- why had she even started this? She couldn't remember. But Legolas had to now he was wrong—he had to know—"I know more than you do," she hissed, "you privileged, sheltered little elfling! Why do you say I am ignorant when I am the one speaking the truth? Merely because I am a she-elf, does not mean I am unwise in the ways of politics and battles – Lady Galadriel is one of the most powerful elves in all the world—"

Legolas snorted. "Lady Galadriel is leagues above you," he said coldly. "You dishonor her by even speaking of her, and I say to you that you are ignorant because you are! Tell me, when was the last time you met a man?"

Seasa did not answer, her eyes falling to his feet. No one spoke for a moment, before Legolas glanced at Astalder, gesturing for him to head towards the exit. "Next time I am in your presence," Legolas said callously as he swept past her, "hold your tongue -- or I shall have it cut off."

Seasa said nothing, as he lowered himself out of the flet. She heard him give orders to post guards watching her, and then turn to deal with the issue of Old Forest Road. She heard him mention something about a messenger being sent to Rivendell and the names Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn, but they meant nothing to her. Her knees shook, and in the distance, a raven screeched across the sky. Seasa collapsed on the floor, her body raked with sobs that ached of fear – fear of her future, fear of the consequences of her actions, and fear for her father…the elf she knew they were thinking of when Astalder and Legolas were just having that conversation – Valneuma.