This chapter is erratic at best. So many things going on. I'm trying to set up the greatest piece of action in this story. Believe me the action is rising, I just have to pick through the years to get to it. :) Now….I hope that you all enjoy the chapter, even as fragmented as it seems.

Chapter 10 - Ithilrhas

Running.

He was running. His large, broad paws struck the ground furiously as he ran. He could hear the howling and roars behind him, yet he still ran. They sought to capture him, tether him, tame him. He would not be tamed. He would not allow himself to be used like a beast of burden. He was not for riding, he was not for carrying an army.

Three arrows were stuck in his thigh, making his heart race with worry and agony. His left side was covered with blood and dirt, matting his thick silver fur to his thickly muscled body and outlining his broad frame.

A howl to his left was the only warning before a great grey figure bowled into him, knocking him to the ground and burying razor sharp fangs in his throat. He fought wildly, but the creature held him still with a sharp shake of his head. He was gasping for breath underneath the grey beast, his yellow eyes whirling as he watched for the others to join them.

A tall, broad man stepped out of the trees and began towards him, his muscular legs making wide strides.

"It took quite a while to take you down, Wolf." he growled, his voice like the sound of boulders being crushed together. "Captain wants you for breeding. We are going to use your blood to strengthen the Warg population. You should feel honored," he growled.

The great yellow eyes closed slightly in defeat. He was injured, exhausted, and unable to think of a way out of this.

"If it were up to me I'd slit your beastly throat for the trouble you've caused. But it ain't up to me. Captian wants you for your coc-," An arrow blossomed suddenly from his throat. He seemed surprised for a moment, before keeling over neatly on the forest floor.

The Warg holding him released him when an arrow caught it in the forehead. He shook off the dead beast, dragging himself to a position on his belly and trying to crawl away. A pair of legs came into his sight, the feet tipped in black leather boots. His chest heaved with effort, but he looked up.

He was beastly in appearance. He was the size of a shorter Man, built with lean muscle and carrying a black longbow. His face was pinched and thin, but the skin was a deep graying green color, his narrow slanted eyes the color of angry rubies.

"Well, well, wolf. We been tracking you fer quite a while. You done caught the interest of some bad people. Lucky fer you ye also caught the interest of some better people," he finished. His voice was deep and gravelly, but not violent or angry sounding. He lifted a wooden whistle to his mouth and blew a complicated tune that sounded like the cries of a raven put to song.

He heard the sound of horses' hooves, and two riders emerged from the wood.

"The wagon is ready, Gismblog," one of them growled. The two were both of similar build and coloring. One of them could pass for human save the ugly grey color of his skin. His round eyes were the color of charcoal, black and expressionless.

"Get those arrows out and bind the wound. We'll be at camp by sunrise," Gismblog barked. "We mean you no harm, wolf. We are in the same boat, all of us. You ain't no wolf. You ain't no Warg. Don't know what ye are, but we got ya now,"

The other two dismounted their horses, with one of them retrieving a medical pack from his saddle bags. He barely remembered them treating him. He barely remembered being dragged by the horses into another clearing and loaded into a wagon. He barely remembered the jogging, lurching journey through twists and turns through the forest and up into the mountains.

The sun peaked over the mountain top, illuminating the craggy mountain path that they took. He shivered as the cool light covered his body. He felt the transformation of the full moon abate, and his body twisted and shifted back, unable to expend the energy to stay as the wolf. His silver hair was matted with mud, sweat and blood, and the bandage they had wrapped around his lupine thigh went loose. He could only vaguely feel the wrist holster with his wand strapped to his arm.

The wagon stopped and the riders paused in shock and awe. Gismblog recovered first, looking down at the trembling, naked form now in the wagon.

"Well by the fire of the Lidless Eye! Ain't never seen nothing like it in all my days! You really are a Half-n-Half, aint ya?" he said with an incredulous laugh. "What's yer name there, wolf-man?" he asked.

He wet his lips, tasting blood and dirt in his mouth as he tried to draw the breath to speak.

"Ph-Phelan Grr...Grey-...Greyback."

Gandalf, the dear, had been very helpful in his quest to aid her in making a magical staff. They had tried the wood of trees in the immediate vicinity of the forest. Then they had wrangled Thranduil into their search. After doing some deep research into the magickal properties of wood and compiling suitable evidence that would match it to traits and powers that Draca possessed, they had the Elf King send for some samples. Other trees that grew deeper in the forest, and even some from outside of Mirkwood. Thranduil had affected a much put-upon attitude about it, but between the elder Wizard, Legolas, and Orion, they were able to sweet-talk him (or just pester, in Gandalf's case) the King until he complied.

The moment she had laid eyes on the rough bough of cherry wood, she knew it was the one. It was an unassuming brown, incredibly straight and still adorned with the smooth bark. She ignored the other boughs sitting around it and knelt, picking up the wood and touching it gently.

"You've found it, then?" Gandalf asked. She nodded. "The next part is the longest. You must prepare the wood. Let the magic inside of you guide your hand, and it will tell you exactly what you need to do," he finished, leaning a bit on his own staff. He remembered the process as if it were yesterday. He had prepared his own staff before sailing to Middle Earth. It had filled him with great pride to finally present the finished product to the Valar-

Oh my.

The Istari had been messengers of the Valar, servants sent to aid the world and shine a light of hope in the presence of the darkness of Sauron. This girl, and the boy as well, were not born in Valinor. They were not Maiar, but they were clearly of magical blood. He was unsure exactly what would happen upon completion of her staff. Well, no matter. Already begun the process now…he could see the magic in her eyes as she held what would become her best friend and greatest ally.

"What if I mess it up?" Draca asked suddenly, looking like a child that had been told to take up a blade and do surgery.

"You will not. Any knick, or indention, or ribbon, or smear of stain upon the wood is supposed to be there. The staff-making time will pass as a haze before you, easily remembered but difficult to control. It will consume you until such time as the final touch is placed upon it. Once the wood is prepared, all that remains is to attach the channel to it. Once the stone is in place then the staff is complete," he said, conveniently leaving out what he was unsure about.

"When you say 'haze,'" Legolas trailed off softly, glancing at the way his adopted sister's face seemed to smooth out with unresponsiveness.

"She will be lost to you for a time. Do not think this will be forever. It could be days, weeks, perhaps longer. It took Radagast fourteen years to complete his staff. Personally I think he was just a little too attached to the pipe weed he used to produce ashes he mixed in with the stain upon his staff," Gandalf said, looking both amused and frustrated at the mention of the Brown Wizard. "But it only took Saruman a fortnight to complete his staff. I myself took a healthy five years," he completed.

"If she is lost to us for that time, then I will travel," Orion said, frowning. "I will return when her staff is complete."

"You do not wish to undergo the making of a staff?" Gandalf asked the young Wizard. Orion looked at the cloudy gaze on Draca's face, before drawing his wand from his sleeve.

"No. I feel that this staff is something that she needs to do. My wand was not broken and my magic is still tethered to it. Wands and staves are similar in the fact that it is a great friend and ally and is supposed to last forever. Doesn't always happen, of course, but many times wands live to be passed down from generation to generation," Orion said, swishing his wand softly and watching the idle silver sparkles of magic fall.

Gandalf nodded absent-mindedly. His eyes were drawn to Draca as she stood, holding the cherry bough close to her body as if to protect it. He smiled.

The bonding process had already begun.

(Four Years Later)

She held the stone in her hand, and could almost feel the thrum of magic in her palm. It was an uncommon stone, and it had taken quite a while to get one of its like. Once they had discovered the right family of stone, it was just a matter of time until they could find the right one. Of course, she now owed the Elf-King quite a few favors for this, as it was from his own personal collection of jewels. But he had told her that he would rather be missing a jewel or two and have a fully capable wizard than all of his riches with a useless mage that could only sputter fire from her fingertips.

Legolas had been suitably offended on her behalf, and petulantly mentioned that when the staff was complete, the newly re-forged Istar could probably turn Thranduil into a newt. The elven king, of course, and merely purred that the Lady-Wizard could do what she wished, but he was doubtful that she would make it out of the palatial caves alive if something were to happen to the King of Mirkwood.

She caressed the lovingly carved head of the staff. The place where her channel would rest was wooden settings, nestling the stone on the tip of the staff like a diamond on a ring. A large curved blade rested just beneath the setting of the channel. It was actually three blades nestled together, and with the release of a small catch and the flick of the staff, it unfolded like an exaggerated wing. The blade was curved in a way that would allow it to slice in an upswing or a downswing, and connected to the body of the staff by use of bands of silver that entwined the staff and grew thinner and more delicate the further down they twisted.

The place where her hand rested was soft but sturdy dark leather braided around the wood intricately and carefully. A braid of silvery hair from her form as a unicorn was wrapped tightly around the hand rest, feeding down into the leather to be held firmly in place. The bottom tip of the staff was shod in silver, with more delicate vinework curving upward for several inches in a delicate pattern. The only thing left to do was place the stone in its setting.

Orion had left a few weeks after she had begun. While she was still carefully whittling away the bark on the outside of the raw cherry bough, he had come to her and told her he was going to travel towards Rohan to seek their friends. If he could not find them there, he would go further south. Perhaps they had been thrown as far as Harad? The haze of her staff-work had confused her, and now that it was finally starting to fade in the wake of her near completion, she felt sad and tired.

It had taken much more than she had figured to make the staff. To make and attach the fine silver blades she had actually had to learn the forge herself. She supposed her magic aided a bit, because the skill had been picked up long enough for her to make the blade, but she could not tell you which end of the forge was which at this point. Every thread of silver wire along the wood had been lovingly placed, wrapping tightly until it bit into the wood and would not unravel.

The hairs had been gathered by raking her mane through a bush as the light of the full moon had made the silvery strands glitter. She had killed the deer that made the leather on her hand rest, treating and cutting the strips herself before braiding them onto the wood and holding them in place with more delicate strands of silver.

Four more years come and gone, but she did not look as if she had aged at all since being in Mirkwood. She wondered if it was because she was a wizard, or if it was because she was part Elf? It had been six years since the four of them had fallen into this place. But the time had passed quicker than she realized. She had come out of the haze slightly at times, when learning the forge and waiting for materials to arrive or finish drying. She had slept and ate and bathed just like a regular person, even conversing with people if they talked to her first…but she had not truly been in control of her faculties. She had been driven by instinct and magic.

"Is it almost finished?"

The voice startled her, and she turned to see Legolas standing at the doorway. She barely remembered any of their interactions over the past few years. She knew that he came and saw her at least once every day, except on the few days or weeks at a time that he had exploring or gone on a hunting party. She felt incredibly sad that she had been working on this damned staff longer than she had known her brother-prince.

"Yes. All I have to do is set the channel." She said, holding the stone. It was jade, but of an uncommon black color. Though the color was dark it glittered with warmth of its own.

"I have missed you, tithen gwathel." Legolas said, giving her a broad smile.

"I missed you too, brother in my heart." She said, smiling back. "Would you like to watch?" she asked, her grey eyes beginning to sparkle a bit as she thought about finishing the magical instrument. He came further into the room she had adopted as her work room, honestly curious as she held the jade up to the wooden setting. She pushed the stone into place with little resistance, but there was a shift in the air suddenly that Legolas knew meant that anyone trying to remove that stone would not have an easy time of it. The stone lit up with magic swiftly, bathing the room in a cool green light. Draca smiled, feeling the magic running through her veins. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel after so long.

She opened her eyes to speak to Legolas, and realized with a start that she was no longer in the room in Mirkwood. She appeared to be in a forest clearing, standing in a circle of beings that she didn't recognize. They were tall and fair, like elves, but there was something ancient and commanding about them that she didn't understand.

One of them, a powerful looking man with gleaming golden eyes and a sharp face, stepped forward.

"Welcome, Istar, to the presence of the Valar. Rise, and claim your magic before us." He said, his mighty voice making Draca feel even smaller. She held onto the new staff like a lifeline, her eyes going wide and staring at the beings as though they would eat her.

A beautiful woman to the right of the golden eyed man gave her a bright smile. Her hair was black as midnight, catching the light with thousands of sparkles that reminded Draca of a starlit sky.

"I believe you are frightening her, husband," the woman said, laughter bubbling in her voice. The man tilted his head.

"Did Olórin not tell you that you would have to pass before us to claim the title Istar?" he asked. Draca continued to stare, her wide-eyed fear and confusion almost palpable amongst them.

A man dressed in robes the color of the sea cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. She is not even familiar with the idea of us, much less being summoned here to present a newly forged staff," he said. His voice was like the stirring of the waves, peaceful and strong.

Draca seemed to come back to herself a little, starting suddenly and looking at them one by one. The sharp-faced being that had spoken first smiled broadly at her.

"I am Manwë."

Legolas was horrified when she keeled over. One moment she was clutching the finished staff and the next she was face-first on the floor. He dropped beside her, lifting her into his arms with worry etched into his fair face. The stone on her staff pulsed with palpable magic, glowing an eerie, emerald green as she clutched it so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Draca? Can you hear me, sister? You must wake up. We need to let my father know that you have finished your staff," he said, his voice rather desperate. "Draca?"

And with a gasp she awoke. For a moment her grey eyes glowed silver, before she turned a horrified gaze to Legolas.

"I am going to fucking stab Gandalf in the face!" she hissed angrily. Legolas' eyes widened at the vehement exclamation.

"What…what happened?" he asked.

"I had to take my staff before the Valar. I had to tell them the process of making it and claim my new form of magic in front of them. That grey coot didn't tell me that! I was completely unaware. I'm sure Manwë thought I was retarded!" she was chattering like a squirrel on a sugar rush.

"Did they accept you?" he asked her, grinning at her hyperactive anger. She paused in her rapid-fire speech and looked at him. Then she smiled shyly.

"They told me that I was here for great purposes. They told me that my magic was a gift and should be used well. They wouldn't tell me if I'll ever go home. They also wouldn't tell me where the other two of my friends are. They said I had the tools to find them and would have to search myself." She said, sounding miffed. Legolas gave her a bright grin.

"You'll find them. You found Orion, didn't you? You just have to be patient," he reassured her. Suddenly her face twisted in sadness. "What is it?"

"They told me I need to leave here. I need to travel and use my magic. They gave me a name and a purpose, and it is not here," she whispered. He looked sad as well, reaching up to brush away a strand o her silvery blonde hair from her face.

"What did they name you?" he asked sadly.

"Ithilrhas the Green." She said simply.

"Moon horn?" He grinned.

"Wise and powerful they may be, but they were rather unimaginable. They seemed surprised I had attached a blade to my staff. Although Lady Varda thought it was lovely," she swelled with pride. "And they said that green would be my rank. I am the youngest Istar recognized by the Valar. I am still but a wisp of a child in their eyes. A green shoot, so to say. And so I am the Green Wizard, destined to travel as the wind blows the leaves…" she finished, sounding a bit grumpy.

"There's no reason to think that just because you must travel that we won't see each other. Mithrandir comes through Mirkwood all the time," Legolas said brightly. Draca smiled. "Besides, you also don't have to leave immediately either, do you? We can catch up on everything that's been happening while you made your staff. I believe Orion left word for you when you finished, and there are some fresh honey cakes cooling in the kitchens."

And then Legolas drew himself to his feet, taking her hand and drawing her up as well. He held out his arm for her, and she linked her own through his and the two walked out of the room. A new day had dawned for Ithilrhas, and she would soon set out to fulfill a destiny the very gods of this world had set before her.

But until such a thing happened there was always time for honey cakes.

He sat under the tree with the Lord of Imladris, his long head resting on the thick luxurious fabric of the robes Elrond wore. The elf-lord in question was absent-mindedly stroking the dragon's large pointed ear with one hand, and holding a book with the other. He knew that if his friends could see him now they would tease him mercilessly. The mighty dragon had become nothing more than a scaly house-cat.

There was a commotion as three figures emerged into the garden that the two were relaxing in. The twin sons of Lord Elrond and his foster son clomped rather noisily into the place, all three of them covered in mud and laughing boisterously.

"I know that you three aren't tracking mud onto my nice clean garden path with the intention of taking same-said mud into my nice clean house…" Elrond said without looking up. The hand that had been stroking the dragon's ear moved to a bowl beside him, plucking a piece of cut apple from the bowl and holding it up to the dragon's snout.

The forked tongue shot out and wrapped around the apple, pulling it into his mouth and chomping into the sweet fruit happily. He was rewarded with a gentle pat across his head. Aw, fuck it. He might be an overgrown house-cat, but god bless it this was nicer than being shot full of arrows.

The three newcomers looked at each other.

"But this is the shortest way in, Ada," Elrohir said. Elrond turned a page in his book.

"You three mud-monsters can go wash yourselves by the river and then come up. Water spots dry but mud has to be scrubbed," he answered, picking out a grape from the bowl of fruit and eating it himself.

"It's December!" Estel argued. Elrond finally looked over the edge of his book, and the dragon's head rose up slightly, fixing them with an annoyed glare for interrupting the quiet time.

"Then perhaps next time you won't get so muddy when you were only supposed to be having archery practice…" Elrond intoned silkily, one eyebrow inching ever higher as he gave them a look. They all took one glance at his face and turned tail to rinse off the worst of the sodden mud in the chilly waters before they would be allowed back into the house.

James laid his head back across Elrond's lap, snorting a puff of sparks. He went boneless with pleasure as those long fingers found a sensitive spot just under his ear.

"It is good being Lord of Rivendell, Naurlam. It gets things done," He said. After a few minutes he reached down to pluck another piece of fruit from the bowl, and noticed it empty. He happened to glance down, and noticed that Naurlam's snout had a bit of an apple peel stuck just above his lip, and he was trying entirely too hard to look innocent. Elrond sighed. (Fire tongue)

"I get no respect."

First things first: Yay! Phelan!

Second things next: I am not going into detail about what happened with the Valar. Honestly those bastards are so blessedly confusing that I had to check a couple sources just to make sure I didn't sound stupid with what I did mention. Now….it does seem a bit Mary-Sueish to have Draca become an Istar. But hear me out: She was already a Witch. She just lost her wand. This whole thing is part of something really neat, I promise. Besides, once I get into the next arc of the story, Draca isn't a super-major player. She's important, don't get me wrong, but not overly so. :P

James didn't have anything important to do right here. I'm trying to let him relax where he can. He's got some bad stuff coming up. *Evil face*