Aza held the thick tree's branch as she sat on a thicker branch. Smiling she watched him search for her. It was amusing. His face was attentive, trying to hear even the slightest brush or the giggle that was always threatening to lose itself from her lips.

"Aza, I'm going to find you," he warned, "and when I do, you'll be sorry."

"Oh, well," she said from her place in the tree, "if you threaten me so, I suppose I should just give myself up." She looked down and saw him rush over to the tree.

He smirked and climbed the tree easily to join her. "You should be punished for making me rush about looking for you."

She chuckled, "What would you suggest?"

He leaned forward and gave her lips a small peck, thusly turning her face a light pink. "There, I think that should be sufficient for my troubles."

"You're going to pay for that," she mumbled and leaned forward to grab him. But he had slipped through her grasp and weaved his way down the tree to the ground.

"If I may quote what you said earlier 'you're going to have to catch me first'," he then ran off.

Aza groaned and climbed down the tree quick as she might.


Gandalf and Elrond walked up a flight of stairs and into a pavilion with Aza trailing behind them. She used her staff to help her climb the steps, but she was still slightly winded.

"With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I."

"It is not me you must answer to," Elrond said and looked to Galadriel, who was standing in the perfect spot to catch every ray of moonlight.

Gandalf stepped forward, "Lady Galadriel."

"Mithrandir. It has been a long time." She turned to Aza, "And Azriela, you seem to have grown taller since we last met."

"Wider maybe, but not taller," Aza joked.

"Nae nin gwistant infanneth, mal ú-eichia i Chíril Lorien." [Age may have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lorien] he said in Elvish, almost seeming to flirt with her.

Galadriel smiled.

"I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you," said Gandalf.

A dark, deep voice from behind said, "He didn't. I did."

Aza froze and gulped, she knew that voice.

Gandalf and Aza turned to see Saruman standing before them.

"Saruman."

"You've been busy of late, my friend." He looked down his nose at Aza in an almost disapproving manner.

Once they were settled at the table, Aza looked nervously at Saruman. Since he was in charge of the order, he was in charge of her. He could technicaly take her from Gandalf's care and take charge of her learning himself. Aza did not want that, Gandalf was a wonderful teacher. He managed to balance learning and fun perfectly so that she was hardly ever truly cross with him.

"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" Saruman said.

"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right."

"The dragon has long been on your mind," said Galadriel.

"This is true, my lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

"What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength," Saruman huffed.

Elrond interjected, "Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace."

"Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."

"Hardly a prelude to war," Elrond reasoned.

Saruman then, condescendingly, said, "Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists."

Galadriel raised her hand, "Let him speak."

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen living there now call it 'Mirkwood'. They say..."

"Well, don't stop now. Tell us about the woodsmen's sayings," Saruman interrupted.

"They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead."

"That's absurd. No such power exists in the world. This...Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic."

"And so I thought too. But, Radagast has -"

"Radagast? Do not speak to me about Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow."

Aza's face screwed up. Her eyebrows knitted together and her lips puckered tightly.

Galadriel saw this and rested a smooth, cool hand on her shoulder. "îdh, Iellig," [Peace, my child.] she whispered.

Well, he's odd, I grant you. He lives a solitary life."

"It's not that. It's his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They've addled his brains and yellowed his teeth. I warned him, it is unbecoming of the Istari to be wandering the woods..."

Saruman's voice faded away as he looked to Aza. "You, my child, have spent far too long with him. I'm surpised you don't have animals running through your robes."

Aza snapped back, fiddling with the ring on her ring finger angrily, "I just bathed; they don't like the smell of the soap."

"You are a creature of untested power, it is unbefitting for you to traipse around in filth," he said, stroking his beard. "Perhaps I should take over your instruction."

"I prefer Gandalf to be my teacher," Aza said quickly, rubbing her thumb over the gem. "His lessons are interesting."

Gandalf lifted the package from Radagast onto the table.

Elrond stepped forward, "What is that?"

"A relic of Mordor."

Aza froze upon hearing that word. It sent chills up her spine and through the rest of her.

Elrond unwrapped the package and drew his hand back. However, he moved once more and revealed a sword. Aza felt the evil oozing from it. "A Morgul blade."

"Made for the Witch-King of Angmar, and buried with him." Gandalf said," When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed in the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

"This is not possible," said Elrond, "A powerful spells lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

"What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?" Saruman demanded.

"I have none."

Saruman leaned back into his chair, "Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. Not so very much, after all. The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf; I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to me, I might have spared them..."

Aza turned her attention to the rising sun, a grin slowly spreading on her face. By now the dwarves would have made their escape from Rivendell, a place that would have most likely hindered their journey.

Lindir ran in, "My Lord Elrond; the dwarves, they're gone."