Sulrochil fell, the wizard said, but that was not the truth. She jumped.

Into the unknown, she now was disappearing; and Legolas had no choice but to follow.

Everything she was not supposed to see was abruptly exposed to her. The charred remnants of his soul frightened her. All his torments were meant to remain secret from her, yet she was immersed in the horrors he had intended to keep in the dark.

Out of his soul, she yanked all the pain that had taken the shape of a shield. For three days he had secured her safety, only to ultimately fail. The shield was shattered. Eleven gouges dotted it, making it useless. Unworthy as he who had not succeeded in his only duty for the past few days.

After her, he plunged. The way down was paved with cracked helmets and pierced shields. Each of them had eleven holes, and all those thousands of breaches were drilling right into his heart, "Unfit, worthless, pitiful."

But he shoved those thoughts aside. It would not do to fall into despair now, as he could still make everything right again and wrench her out of this nightmare.

He would fight for her. This was something he knew - to face all the demons of her soul, and vanquish everyone who threatened her. This was his world, and he was ready. All the ghouls would meet their end here and now.

No matter what he would encounter here, he was more than ready.

A thick fog surrounded Legolas when he reached his destination. Just as he had done myriads of times before, he pushed all his feelings away and prepared for the fight. His senses heightened as he awaited the bogeymen of her soul to emerge out of the shadows. Not seeing anything, nor hearing anything, he waited for the mist to dissipate.

Soon, the sky cleared, and Legolas found himself standing on soft moss under a tall spruce and let his eyes slowly sweep over the surroundings.

Sulrochil was nowhere to be seen - nor were the villains he had been expecting.

In the embrace of serene forest, he was enclosed - faint birdsong in the distance, the first snowdrops of the spring dotting the brown ground, a swish of a foxtail on a nearby hill.

It was a forest of peace.

He almost shouted to her, but trying to talk here would be like a fish, gaping its mouth on the beach. Sultithen, where are you? A fist of irritation punched him to the nose when he recalled he could not see Sulrochil here. He could not touch her, nor he could sense her location. How was he supposed to find her?

He had been prepared to meet the monsters and fight his way to her, but how does one fight with a tranquil forest? How could he rescue her if there was nothing to save her from?

He was willing - more than willing - to fight and smash all these ridiculous alders and aspens and do-they-really-have-to-have-such-cutesy-names to the ground: the devils he could handle - not bluebells and primroses.

He grabbed a cone and flung it to a nearby pine trunk. Should he tramp from tree to tree until he finds her? If it would take an eternity, he did not care, but he would not leave this place until he found her.

He needed a plan.

Perhaps Sulrochil has gone somewhere Legolas would search for her first? Maybe to an open area? No, she would go to some familiar place, so he would recognize the site. No, she would climb on a big rock, so that he could see her. But - he could not see her. It was impossible to find her because she could not be seen, heard, nor sensed by any sense.

Reasoning would not help him this time.

Somehow another cone had found its way into his palm, and Legolas hurled it at a big stone. It exploded and the wrecks scattered everywhere, but it did not bring Sulrochil back.

He might have anticipated a battle, but there was none available. No evil had a place here and Legolas finally realized what it meant - Sulrochil was safe.

This was their forest, it held no darkness.

He let out a sigh of relief until he realized what that also meant. If this was a forest of peace, it shielded Sulrochil. She was asleep - in sound slumber to alleviate their shared pain. She could be hidden under any tree now; it could be impossible to find her here. No matter how long he trudged here, she could remain hidden.

Therefore, he did not have all of eternity. If he did not find her soon, it could be too late. Lost in thought, he twirled a cone in his fingers.

The forest knew where she was. All he needed to do was to make the forest tell him how to discover her. The woods did not belong only to her. This was their forest, and if it helped Sulrochil, it would also do the same for Legolas.

The only way to aid him now was to let him locate her. Finally, he tossed the cone away and marched forward.

A curvy path meandered through the dark forest. On the right, there was the sun shining brighter through the needles; on the left, chaffinches were warbling cheerfully - but neither way seemed more helpful than the other.

It was Sulrochil who he was searching for, though. Perhaps he should get rid of all sensible thinking now. Tentatively, he stood still, eyes closed - just like she would do - and tried to be absorbed in the essence of the woods. Every direction felt precisely the same - wrong. Up - wrong. Down - wrong. To the left, to the right, backwards, forwards - all wrong. All exactly the same amount of incorrectness. He took a few steps deeper into the forest - and it felt wrong.

Trying to judge his next move, he leaned his palm on spruce.

"Go homeward," the tree rustled, "and you will find her under two trees."

Legolas glared at the trunk, "Homeward? I do not understand." The tree's advice was foolish, even if his mind was finally ready to welcome any help.

"Trust me," the spruce hummed. "Trust the forest. Search for two trees, and you shall find her."

"Two trees?" the elf disputed. "This place is full of trees. It is a forest!"

"Forget yourself, and believe in your love. Trust in the two of you. Bury yourself and feel your connection."

Only his love for her can show him the right way. Love. Their love. Not his devotion, but theirs. He would fly like a bird in the sky of love if he could. He would jump from tree to tree like a squirrel if he could. But he could not.

Our love. Our forest. This realm is our love. This air, these flowers, everything is love. Everything in here consists of our love, also this tree and its strange advice.

It is impossible to find her, except with love.

"Homeward?" he thought, pressing his palm closer to the tree trunk. "Please, show me the way." Slowly all of the spruce's branches pointed in the right direction. Carefully, he walked through the forest, touching every tree and asking them if this was still the right way. Every branch of every tree showed him the way, and soon he saw two trees on a hill.

It was an odd union of a tangled spruce and a fair linden.

Nothing was to be seen under the trees, but he knew better not to worry. Still, he could not see her, nor hear her, but he knew he could touch her because in this world they could touch each other when the time was right.

If this moment was not right, it never would be.

Towards the linden, he walked; and put his hand on the trunk. A smile crept onto his lips when its branches pointed to the ground under the two trees. Taking a few steps, he reached the spruce and smiled when its branches pointed in every direction except the earth under the two trees.

Legolas crouched, closed his eyes and lowered his hand - until he finally felt Sulrochil's back. Softly, he caressed her hair and whispered to her. She did not even stir, and he leaned to kiss her - only to find out that this was not the fairytale in which the princess wakes up with a kiss.

Uneasiness clouded his eyes again as he shook her shoulders more forcefully with every passing moment. "Sultithen, wake up!" She did not move, and his head fell down. Burying his eyes on her hair, the faint traces of gloominess began creeping into his soul. "Please, let her wake up."

Thranduil and Mithrandir stood by the window looking at the rising sun - and two elves lying on the bearskin rug. Soon, the sun would reach the highest point of its endless journey. Sulrochil and Legolas had not even stirred, and the clock promptly ticked on the wall.

"They seem peaceful," Mithrandir finally muttered. "But will they come back?"

"From wherever they are, they will come back," Thranduil said, gazing at the pair of puffy clouds floating in the sky.

"Both are exceptional warriors, yet the hardest battle is fought inside their souls."

"The hardest battle is always in our souls."

"Did we make a mistake when we separated them?" the wizard sighed. "Shall Legolas have enough strength left to find her after all that he has endured?"

"Legolas will find her, never doubt him. He will not leave a single rock unturned where Sulrochil is concerned."

"You are right. I must not lose faith; he will save her."

"I said that he will find her," the King said. "He shall descend to the deepest abyss to find her and climb up with her. Yet, it is uncertain which of them is saving which."

Not knowing how much time had passed, Legolas finally lifted his head when he heard a tall aspen hum nearby, and he turned to look at it. Upwards, its branches pointed. "Climb up!" it whispered.

Softly into his arms, Legolas cradled Sulrochil and began climbing. Up, up, he went. Upwards all the time, hoping they finally could reach the end of this nightmare.

The room was bathed in yellow sunlight when Legolas opened his eyes. Something soft was in his arms. Someone warm was breathing against his chest - and it made him close his eyes again. This must be only a dream.

Fear. There was terrible fear smothering him, but not his own. Sultithen, are you here? Why do you fear? Did I not succeed in pulling you back?

A surge of love rushed into his heart, a plea for forgiveness, anger, a short flash of outrage - all in the blink of an eye. Her emotions flooded into the barren soul of his like a cascading waterfall, making him switch between his soul being embraced by her soul and the feeling of revenge. He was crushed under the outpour of her frustrations and fears - still at every moment being brushed by the lightest touch of her love.

The heavy mass of water flushed him into the river of her feelings, and the familiarity of it made him smile. Sultithen nin, you are here. I could imagine your warmth. I could imagine your nose against my chest, but my mind could never conjure this incredible tangle of your feelings. Only you could make us feel as if we were at the same time drowning in the depths of your horror and flying like eagles in the blue sky of our love.

Mellegolasdaer, are you alright? You have been suffering so much, I am sorry you had to do this. I feel so much pain still lingering in your soul. I am sorry I had to do this to you. Can you forgive me for what I have done? I made you feel the fear of my death again, and that is something I should not have done. I have done something you will disapprove of. I will explain everything later, for now, I only want you to feel loved. I want our souls to be knotted together and never be separated again. I want to fill the void inside you, make the desert of your soul flourish, and have our love blossom like the starflowers in the forest.

King Thranduil swallowed when he noticed the Sulrochil's grip on Legolas's shoulder tighten, indicating they had woken up. It was nearly visible how their souls tried to reach an equilibrium after a too-long disconnection. A sting of envy stabbed his heart, but he thrust it away. These were his children, who had gone through hell - they deserved a moment of love.

Sultithen nin, please do not worry about me. You are here, and that is all I need. I will forgive you for everything. You have promised you would not do anything I consider you not capable of doing, and I trust you. To feel your soul intertwined with mine again makes me think I am at home with you. Are you honestly unharmed?

The King let them seek their balance in peace. He saw Sulrochil nod against Legolas' chest which made Legolas move to see her better, and at that moment the King had to interrupt whatever his son was about to do - which was not hard to guess.

"Sulrochil," Thranduil intervened. "Do you know where you are and what the situation is?"

"What are you doing here?" Sulrochil snapped, lifting her head. "Go away."

"Please, answer my questions."

"I am in Lake-town at the guesthouse of the Mayor of the town," she began and moved to sit on her knees. "I happen to be here with Legolas, my betrothed, who apparently just has dragged me out of the hidden corner of my soul. And. You are King Thranduil, my soon-to-be Father-in-law, who is making this room overcrowded. We shall have a war tomorrow, are you not supposed to be threatening your soldiers somewhere? Out? Of? This? Room?"

"Sulrochil, please," Legolas interrupted, rising up to stand, "he is worried."

"He can be worried anywhere other than here," Sulrochil replied, standing next to him.

"Please, forgive me…" Thranduil began but could not finish his sentence when the door opened, and Mithrandir stormed in.

"Finally, you are awake," the wizard exclaimed, gazing at all three elves. "Is everything alright?"

"No," the King replied.

"No," Legolas replied.

"Of course everything is wonderful, Mithrandir," Sulrochil chanted merrily. "What did you expect?"

"I thought we must leave you slumbering here and go to the war without you."

"Do you want my report now?" Sulrochil asked, straightening her jerkin.

"No. It is better to tell everyone at the same time. The patience of the dwarves is diminishing rapidly!" Mithrandir said and walked towards the door. "Let us go!"

"Mithrandir, wait," the King said. "We need to give those two a moment alone. And when you leave this room, Sulrochil, I expect you to wear that." He pointed to the wall on which was hanging a coat.

"No and no!" Sulrochil's soul was filled with thick refusal. Adamantly, Legolas opposed both of his Father's propositions, but why? Slowly, Sulrochil turned her eyes to Legolas and saw rage clouding his eyes. Sultithen nin, there is no moment for us now. A week would be sufficient, perhaps. Or a month? A year? If we now stay alone in this room, I would not be able to let you go anywhere today.

Her look calmed him enough to straighten his posture, and he tried to shut out all his feelings. Sulrochil nodded and turned her eyes questioningly to the garment hanging on the wall. She looked back at Legolas, who was wearing a similar coat, and she understood. That coat was not a coat, but a declaration of their betrothal, their love - and he was not fit to see her wear it now. The tempest inside him was still heavy and bleak, and the desolation in his soul was almost total. The agony he had been through had almost entirely annihilated his power to accept joy and love - and she knew she had to tread her way lightly into his soul again.

"Wear that?!" Sulrochil exclaimed with a horrified look and took a few strides closer to the offending coat. She slid her hand on the sleeve and turned to look at Legolas.

With a wry smile, he returned her look and let her familiar tone of displeasure racket into his ears.

"You cannot mean I should wear that!" Sulrochil squealed. "It is ghastly!"

"You have no choice," Legolas said - and in his mind thanked her for doing this. "I know everything you are about to say, so please do not waste our time making us all listen to it."

"That appalling patchwork is the most revolting piece of clothing I have ever seen. Do I really have to wear that?!"

"At least it is better than the alternative. Or would you have liked a dress?"

"Oh, Legolas please," Sulrochil shook her head and with crossed arms stared at Legolas trying to make up some excuse for why she refused to have the coat when she, in fact, was aching to wear it.

"What is this all about?" Mithrandir asked, looking at the elves in turn, who were glaring at each other.

"I know I have to wear that coat, and I promise I will do it soon," Sulrochil sighed, "but I need to get used to the feeling of wearing it. It is not easy to change from nobody to the betrothed of the Prince of Mirkwood. I will wear the coat tomorrow, but not today. The very thought of changing into that coat right now feels wrong. I wore my Marchwarden clothing during my mission; therefore, I should wear it also when I give my report. How long has it been since I rode to Lake-town?"

"Three hours," Mithrandir replied.

"That long!" Sulrochil exclaimed. "There is no time to begin changing clothes like a frivolous Princess. We must hurry! So, thank you for your kindest offer, but we do not want a moment alone before the meeting."

"Why?" the wizard asked.

"Because I say so. And because of the axe-waggling dwarves," Sulrochil replied. "This is not the time for getting touchy-feely!"

"And if she is in that mood," Legolas sighed, walking towards the door, "there is no way for me to get even the shortest possible kiss from her, so we might as well as go right now."

In turn, Mithrandir glanced at all three elves. Something suspicious was steaming in all of their hearts, but he could not pinpoint exactly what these strange feelings were. The shouts and noises of the dwarves in the meeting hall were increasing with every moment, and the wizard had no choice but to follow Legolas.

Walking along the corridor after the others, Thranduil was again engulfed in the envy rampaging through his soul. It was clear so much had been left unsaid, so much had transpired only in the souls of Legolas and Sulrochil - and their wordless conversation had obviously been a totally different matter than what they said aloud.

Almost three thousand years, he had - no!

Violently thrusting the haunting memories aside, the King focused on the secret of Sulrochil's weaponry. During her sleep, it had been revealed that there was orc blood in her quiver. That meant she had shot at least one of the villains - which was precisely what the King had expected her to do. Killing the vermin was not the problem, but she was not supposed to pull the arrows back. The real mystery was, therefore, the blood - the blood, and why she carried Captain's arrows in her quiver.

The King had tasked all his best people with evaluating this, and the most popular opinion was that she had encountered a large enemy group and been forced to shoot all her arrows, yank back some of them, but finally, her quiver had emptied. Coming back with an empty quiver would have been dangerous, so she had taken the arrows from either of the Captains.

Legolas was not going to like this - even if Sulrochil was unharmed - the King mused when he entered the meeting room after the wizard and the younger elves.

As soon as everyone had come in, Mithrandir flounced to the front of the room. "Sulrochil, please come here with me."

Warily, Sulrochil stepped close to the wizard. Legolas and his Father took their places on the front row beside the Chief Marchwardens. Beside the window stood five Mirkwood Captains. The room was full of important men, who were all eyeing her intensely. Dwarves, as well, but they did not bother only to stare. "You sneaky ratbags have been planning the attack tomorrow for three hours and leaving us in the shadows."

"Like always!"

"Have you been plotting thick lies about what she should tell us in these three hours?"

"Silence, everyone!" Gandalf hollered and turned to address the oldest of the dwarves, "Nolin, please, calm down."

"Tell us Gandalf," Nolin roared, leaning to his axe, "why this grasshopper rode into Lake-town three hours ago, and we have not seen nor heard a trace from her since!"

"We do not need to give you any explanations," King Thranduil said.

"You arrogant, self-righteous pointy-ears!" Nolin bellowed.

"Master Dwarf," Sulrochil said in a very poised manner. "I can explain."

"You will do no such thing," the King stated.

"These people have been waiting here for three hours, and I think they should know I have been sleeping for the whole time."

"That is a lie! You don't sleep!" Nolin shouted and made everyone laugh.

"That assumption is not quite correct," she replied, watching the floor. "We wish for you to believe that, but the truth is the younger elves need to sleep."

"There are no young elves!"

"I am one of the younger elves, barely two thousand years old, and while I get better all the time, I still need to sleep every night. I could not sleep during my assignment. Therefore I could not help but crash after I came to the safety of this town." Sulrochil glanced at Thranduil, who understood her plea for assistance.

"Did I not forbid you from revealing that?" he thundered to her, rose up to stand in front of her and threw a frightening look at her. "We have no obligation to explain ourselves!"

"Please, forgive me," Sulrochil replied. "I thought-"

"You thought?!" the King exclaimed. "You, young Lady, must not think! Only obey my orders without question! You have so much to learn before I can accept your marriage to my son!"

"I understand, my Lord," Sulrochil said and bowed, searching for the best shameful look of hers.

"Hardly," Thranduil remarked. "But the damage is done. Before you continue, do tell me where Dinalagosson and Rhovanor are? They should have arrived in here with you."

"I ordered them to climb Lonely Mountain to observe Shadowland. Dinalagosson's group is there right at this moment, and they shall return here in the evening. They will give their report to Rhovanor's group, who will continue the surveillance and return to Lake-town at dawn."

"Why?"

"To reveal it, I must give my full report, my Lord," Sulrochil said and bowed. "May I start from the beginning?"

Thranduil nodded, sat down, and Sulrochil began her report.

"On the first day of my mission when I was on Lonely Mountain, I estimated the headcount of Shadowland to be tens of thousands."

"There can't be that many!" Nolin shouted. "She's lying!"

The other dwarves accompanied him, "What if she is not telling the truth and the elves only want to delude us?" "You are right! She must be lying!" "Gandalf, tell us the truth about what happened during those three hours!" "Were they plotting something to deceive us?" "Like always!"

"Silence!" Gandalf shouted. "Sulrochil told the truth earlier - she has been sleeping the whole time after she arrived in this town. No one knows what happened during her mission, except Sulrochil herself. Why would she lie about the number of enemies, either? Sulrochil, please do continue."

"There have been more orcs coming from the north," she continued. "Many more, and that is why the previous numbers are not correct anymore."

"Did you learn the reason why did Pelingilon noticed something strange?" the wizard asked.

"Aye. I will get to that shortly," Sulrochil went on with her report. "The leader of Shadowland is called Xogarkh. He lives in the middle of everything, is heavily armed, highly guarded and a strong fighter. Ordinarily, that would have been the end of my report, but we are fortunate because there indeed is something peculiar going on in Shadowland."

"And that is?"

"There is an opposing group in Shadowland."

"Opposing group?" Gandalf wondered. "How is that possible? Xogarkh should execute any who oppose him."

"I do not know the reason why he allowed the objectors to live. The overall atmosphere in Shadowland is strange. Usually, I have a feeling like someone is stabbing at my heart with a black dagger and someone watching in the distance when I am close to the orcs, but this time the mood was different, and there was no one staring."

"The Eye of Sauron," Gandalf whispered when the realization dawned upon him.

"But the Eye of Sauron does not anymore exist."

"That is exactly what I mean. Sauron's power over his pawns has vanished. Evil has weakened! Its grip over Middle-earth is diminishing! The defeat of the darkness is at hand! That is why evil did not affect you so painfully as usual!"

"You said it was caused by my ring," Sulrochil asked, furrowing her brow.

"Of course, it was! How foolish of me!" Gandalf huffed, leaning to his staff. "Did you find out why these people were objecting to Xogarkh's rule?"

"Aye," Sulrochil replied, forgetting her previous thoughts and resuming her story. "Xogarkh thinks they should wait until all the elves have sailed away and after that attack Lake-town again, as well as steal all of the elven treasures. The leader of the opposing group, Gworf, would like to attack us at once and not wait like rabbits in their hole. His second-in-command, Shargu, thinks Gworf should confront Xogarkh. I think the strongest of all those three is Shargu, and I got a feeling he would like to challenge both Gworf and Xogarkh soon. But then something happened."

"What?"

"This morning, the opposing group woke up to the realization that Gworf had been killed. And all his guards, as well. All the weapons used in the slaughter were Xogarkh's. His arrows and a sword with his markings. This morning, Gworf and all his guards lay dead on the ground, and Gworf's head had been installed humiliatingly on a spear. I had to leave before I saw their reaction, but I assume Shargu will be furious and will likely destroy Xogarkh. Hopefully, this leads to widespread slaughter. That is why I wanted to leave both Dinalagosson and Rhovanor there to observe what shall happen. If the orcs begin killing each other, the attack tomorrow will be much easier."

"I agree," the wizard said, beginning to feel strange and to sense various different feelings popping around him. "I agree wholeheartedly with that, but, dear Sulrochil, how do you know what kind of markings were on the sword if you were not in the battle? Please, tell us how this fortunate event happened right now when we needed it most?"

"The onslaught on Gworf took place," she said, "because I did it."

"You did what?" King Thranduil thundered and stood up.

The wizard was stunned by all the striking emotions around him. After a short moment he was able to shut his mind, gather some clarity in his mind and yelled, "Sulrochil, you were not allowed to go in there, intervene with anything and definitely not permitted to attack anyone! What have you done?!"

Sulrochil stood frozen, looking at the hazy image of one wizard and one king somewhere in front of her. Her soul was filled with an image of Legolas' eyes full of disgust. He was covered with a shield with eleven ugly holes and a long slash of a sword. Over and over again, Sulrochil felt herself drawing her bow and the arrows hitting him. She could not stop herself - all eleven arrows flew - over and over again.

Legolas looked at Sulrochil as the vision rampaged in his soul shattering all his trust for her. Trust diminished and finally took the shape of a cockroach. He watched as Sulrochil lifted her foot and smashed it over the nasty bug crawling between pebbles. Deliberately, she crunched it until there was nothing left but black dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

Legolas stood up and stepped between the King and the wizard and threw them both away. "You promised to stay away!" Legolas shouted in Elvish to Sulrochil who could not move an inch.

"Stop him!" was heard somewhere in the back of the room. "Stop him before he hurts her!"

Legolas stopped a foot before reaching her, his eyes were black as an endless night. "You lied to me!"

Sulrochil lifted her eyes to him, no words could form in her mind as she was squeezed into the deepest corner of her soul by his outrage.

"You deceived me," Legolas shouted, "You promised to stay out of Shadowland! You have betrayed me! You promised you would never do anything like this! Do you remember?"

Glowering at her, Legolas pushed her against the back wall in her soul, making it impossible to talk. He shoved her tighter against the wall, and she could not breathe. Finally, her pleading eyes made him release her under the iron force of his wrath.

"Do you want to discuss this now in this room while all of them are listening?" Sulrochil whispered after a while when she had gained some of her strength.

"I do not care who is here. I need your explanations now."

"I did this because I felt it was right and-"

"You felt it was right? Of course, you felt it was right - and whatever you happen to feel is always right! Do you ever stop to think?"

"I-"

"You deliberately broke your promises! Promises you had made to me! How can I ever trust you if you stab me in the back!?"

"Please, forgive me. What I did out there was the only possible thing to do-"

"Are you out of your mind? It was the most insane thing you have ever done."

"We need to destroy all the orcs in Middle-earth, and you know it."

"They should be destroyed, yes, but not by you alone! You swore you never would do anything I think you are not capable of and then you go and slash a bunch of orcs with a sword heavier than yourself!"

"I-"

"How did you get the sword?" Legolas asked, glaring at her.

"I stole it from the orcs, and the arrows too."

"And then you sliced Gworf and his guards with the sword?"

"I killed every guard with orc arrows while hiding in the forest. Gworf was sleeping in his tent, but I also killed him by shooting him."

"You said some of them had been killed by a sword."

"No. I said a sword had been used, but only after the orcs were already dead - shot dead by me. I would never try to kill anyone with a sword if I still have my bow with me and arrows in my quiver. Can you not see it?"

"No."

"After the orcs were dead, I went back, pulled the arrows out of some bodies, mutilated them, put Gworf's head on a spear, and snuck out."

"You went to Shadowland," Legolas snapped. "Alone. With a shady plan. Or did you plan at all? No, I suppose you just went by the feeling. Did I mention you went there alone!? All by yourself. Without backup. You could have been killed!"

"I could have been killed at any time."

"You were supposed to only be gathering information while hiding. You are the best for that kind of thing, not for slaying orcs in an act of bravado. You could have come back with all the information you had, and we could have made something up."

"What would we have done with the news? Nothing. The place would still be swarming with orcs. The only possible way to gain any advantage over them was to kill Gworf."

"Perhaps, but it should not have been you."

"Who would you have sent there to kill him to stir things up? Who, Legolas? Who?"

"There is an army full of people who could have done it."

"But who would have known who the right one is?"

"You do have skill in describing people and places, even though right now it is hard to believe that you possess any wit at all!"

"Perhaps I could have described him, but who would have crept into Xogarkh's warehouse to steal the arrows? The sword could have been any sword, but the arrows had to be his arrows! Mind you, his quarters were in the middle of Shadowland. I had to crawl several hundred yards to get those weapons. Not many people can do that!

"And who would have slaughtered those orcs discreetly in silence?" she continued. "And the most important point of all, we needed to get all this done last night so the orcs would have this day to get in each other's throats. Legolas, I did it so we will have a chance tomorrow when there shall be havoc in Shadowland. Legolas, I did it for you. I did it, so you do not have to lead our army tomorrow into a war we cannot win."

"And today there is an arrow right through my heart, and it is from your bow," Legolas said and continued in the Common Tongue. "You can continue your report."

He turned his eyes away from her and walked back to his seat.

With a whip of his hair, Legolas seated himself again. He crossed his arms over his chest and began counting the knots on the wooden wall - trying to suppress all his feelings, but failing at every attempt. The air was black with his rage; his murderous gaze bored right through Sulrochil's heart, filling it with venom.

With a breeze of her love, Sulrochil tried to comfort Legolas but was stopped by a high, black wall around his soul. Mellegolasdaer, please forgive me.

Her apologies dissipated into nothingness trying to get over the wall.

Tonight she needed to climb on the wall and scream her apologies to the other side, hoping her cries would get through the darkness which had fallen upon them. She needed to obliterate the wall, smash it to pieces with her love and hope the ruins would not harden their path too much, and the dust would not smother the air forever.

"I believe no translation is needed," Gandalf said in a quiet voice to the silent crowd and turned to look at Sulrochil who stood beside him. "But I will ask you the same question as Legolas just asked, 'Why did you do it?'"

"Did I not explain myself clearly?"

"No. You explained it as an attempt so your betrothed could begin to understand your reckless actions, but my question is different: I deliberately told you that you should only observe, and you promised to do only that. What possibly could have changed your mind so you began even considering that you should attack them?"

"I…" Sulrochil began, but her voice faded as she was not sure if she had permission to talk about the King's orders.

The King rose up and stated, "Because I asked her to do so."

With a slow movement, Legolas turned his eyes to his Father. The Son's outraged look made Father both feel the same time shame over the conspiracy, and, the certainty he would do the same thing if they had the chance to begin all over again.

The King continued, "No information would be sufficient enough. She is capable of shooting enemies dead while hiding in the forest - she has done it many times - and I asked her to do it again now." He turned to glare at Sulrochil. "But this is not what I asked you to do."

"Killing Xogarkh would have been even more dangerous," Sulrochil said, "because he was always in the middle of the camp. Killing him would not have been wise. Most likely it would only have made them stronger. What I did was the only possible way to get us the needed advantage."

"Perhaps," the King said, looking at Sulrochil with a question in his eyes.

"You said 'anything'," Sulrochil said, nodding to the King when she understood the inaudible question. "'Anything to win this war'. I answered your request with this sort of 'anything'."

"It was the most inadvisable thing to do alone," he replied, "but I will not berate you for that. You already heard enough chastising, and no doubt are going to hear more of it later today." The King nodded to his future daughter-in-the-law to give her strength to face the inevitable confrontation with Legolas after the meeting.

"What is done is done," the King continued, letting his gaze sweep over the whole audience and waved his hand, before returning to his seat. "And it is done with an irreproachable manner - one might add."

"Whether we like it or not," Gandalf said, still not believing fully what Sulrochil had indeed been doing out there, "the fact remains the leader of the opposing group is dead, and we can only hope it will lead to our advantage."

"The consequences of Sulrochil's efforts shall be disclosed to us tonight," the King said, "when Dinalagosson arrives here and gives his report. No matter the result, there shall be a war tomorrow. We need a map."

As soon as he had finished his sentence, two elves carried a canvas to the front of the room. Mithrandir showed a suitable place for them, but they disregarded the wizard's suggestions and placed the canvas at an odd angle - it would be impossible for the audience to see the drawing.

One glance from the wizard to the King made the former see the reason for this and gently stepped aside, letting his palm slide along his staff.

"Noruinivel," the King ordered one of the Captains, "go and draw a map by Sulrochil's descriptions."

The two elf ladies - the only two females in this room - walked closer to the canvas. As soon as they took their positions in front of it, Sulrochil knew why the canvas had been set in such a strange manner. When the elves stood by it, Sulrochil was hidden by the looks of the men and the dwarves. She had been surprised to find out during the meeting they had not been staring at her as rudely as was their wont to do - as if someone had forbidden them from doing it - but now she was safely behind the canvas and Noruinivel.

As they were drawing, Mithrandir hammered Sulrochil with questions. An endless row of topics swished through her. "What kind of weapons do they prefer?" "Tell us more about Shargu." Yet, at the same time, she had to give instructions to Noruinivel. "To the south, there is a small creek." "Over there, on the right, most of their archers are located." "Here, draw a tall pine here."

Noruinivel's scribbles slowly appeared on the canvas, but Sulrochil began to have second thoughts as to whether this Captain indeed had been the one with the best drawing skills. The map was accurate but clearly not the epitome of beauty.

Sulrochil tried to keep her instructions as brief as she could to escape the painful situation, but she did not want to leave a single detail out of the map. She did not know which matters would prove to be important to the battle plan for tomorrow - never had she planned a large-scale war. After not too long, she realized the wizard must be sensing her unease, even though he continued the ceaseless questioning. Was this some kind of a reprimand, asking about every little unimportant detail?

The map was almost finished when Mithrandir said, "Sulrochil, what are your suggestions for us for the war tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, I do not have skills for making suggestions about where or how you should attack them," she replied and continued to Noruinivel, pointing at the map, "Here, draw a small pit here."

Mithrandir looked at the map, which included way more descriptions of trees than was needed, but on the other hand, who knew what they would need tomorrow. "Did you not mean 'we' should attack?"

"Is there a problem with your hearing, Mithrandir," Sulrochil said, turning to face the wizard, "I said 'you' and it means I am not coming." It was indeed the truth, and Sulrochil was stunned by this revelation. She was not coming. The impending battle was clear in her mind, but she did not see herself in it. Deep in her core, she knew destiny had planned something else for her, but what - she did not know.

Yet.

"You said there were - at least before your deeds - tens of thousands of enemies," Mithrandir said. "Do you not believe that means we need every available warrior? You are one of the best archers we have."

"She's afraid!" Nolin remarked.

"Afraid?" Sulrochil stepped one step closer to him raising her voice, "Master Dwarf, was I afraid when I did the most difficult, most risky, absolute most perilous thing I have ever done in my life? No. Am I afraid of fighting tomorrow? No, I am not!" Sulrochil turned to face the crowd again and went silent. Unmistakably, she felt that her road did not lead into the battles - her trail began right here in this room, but the ending was shrouded in heavy mist.

Every pair of eyes bore into Sulrochil, as she quickly threw a glance at the map, trying to find out what her path tomorrow would be. What was happening? All had been clear to her, until now. Was there something on the map she had missed? Sulrochil lifted her eyes to the King, hoping to get some clarity. None was available, though. Like everyone else in the room, Thranduil only quietly awaited Sulrochil's reasons for opting out of the battles.

Slowly, a grey cloud emerged behind Thranduil, growing larger by the moment, and soon the heavens swathed in billowing dark clouds; a few bats soared in the darkness, swooping down on their prey.

Horrified, Sulrochil glanced again at the map. This time, something small stirred in her soul. The pine in the north showed her the way. "Go north", it whispered, and suddenly it struck Sulrochil what she had to do.

The aim was clear, yet there was nothing simple about it.

As the truth finally dwelled in her soul, her eyes opened. She was definitely not dropping out of the battles because she was afraid - her path would be much more heinous than war. War was straight-forward, kill, kill more, and then some, but her way did not lead to the battlefield of warriors.

It led to a battle inside one's heart.

"Will you stay in Lake-town, then?" Gandalf gently prompted, as the elf did not speak.

"No, I will not," Sulrochil said, straightening her posture and watching the cloud engulfing the King. "I need to gather a group of people with good hiding skills and with them go to the northern side of Shadowland. There is a sorcerer out there who is behind all this - Lokowid - and he is in the north, behind Grey Mountains. The occurrences of last night have been exposed to him, and soon he will rush towards the south."

"Are you certain this Lokowid shall arrive?" Mithrandir asked. "Why did you not tell us about him earlier, if you were so sure?"

"I did not tell you about him earlier, because I did not feel his presence like this until now," Sulrochil said, piercing the wizard with her gaze. "With masses of thunderclouds, he shall arrive tomorrow." She turned to speak to Noruinivel. "Turn the map around so that everyone can see it."

The Captain did as she was asked, and Sulrochil continued, pointing at the tall tree drawn on the northern side of Shadowland, "Watch this pine closely. Because of her wisdom, we now know these matters about Lokowid. His wickedness is creeping closer to us every moment, can you not feel it? With my elves, I shall hide in the forest and keep watch. Every sorcerer must have a weak point - we need to make it known. If we ask kindly, perhaps our pine will assist us."

"How many elves do you need?" The King asked.

"Not many," she replied, "six or seven will do."

"How can we discover the best people to do it?"

"I can name one, Braigon, who used to be in the same unit as I was before," Sulrochil looked at Hithfaeron, the Captain who used to be her leader during her previous appearance in the army. It felt not right to suddenly be giving orders to him, but she could not let it be seen in her demeanour. "Is he still in your unit, Hithfaeron?"

"Aye, my Lady," Hithfaeron replied, bowing for her.

"I want to have him tomorrow."

"My Lady Sulrochil," the Captain said. "May I speak frankly?"

"Aye."

"It is difficult to get anyone promoted. No one ever wishes for it. My Lady, you know this from your previous experience very well. You never agreed to it even though I would have given my best recommendation. How am I supposed to get Braigon to agree to this mission?"

"This is not a promotion, and this is not permanent. Braigon will come if you say this is only a temporary mission. Braigon and all the others who join me tomorrow will still be members of their rightful groups and come with me only for tomorrow. Also, you will say this is not an order, but a humble request by me."

"They have a right to refuse?"

"They can decline without consequences, but -," she said.

The King rose up and interrupted Sulrochil, directing his words to the Captain, "Hithfaeron, they will come if you say Sulrochil is asking for it. Not me, nor you. Not even Legolas. Sulrochil."

"Aye, my Lord," Hithfaeron said and bowed.

"Find them, Hithfaeron," King Thranduil said, and began walking out of the room, "The meeting has ended."

All elves - except Sulrochil - followed him.

Abruptly, the room was filled with shouts and general hubbub. "Gandalf, what do you think?" "Are they lying?" "Is the water skipper out of her mind?" "Gandalf, do you think she told the truth, and she really attacked the orcs alone?" "Does she really believe the pine speaks to her?" People roamed around the room and began to leave. Sulrochil had to look at them twice until she realized the meeting was finally over and she was free to go. When Sulrochil tried to weave her way out through the crowd, Legolas was already gone.

She might be free to go, but could her heart ever find freedom again?

The ever-present blinking spot in her mind told Sulrochil where Legolas was. But it was only his body - his soul was behind the disgusting black wall that had emerged between them. It touched the sky, above the clouds, it reached - climbing over it was impossible; smashing it down would require his willingness, but whether he would ever welcome her back, was uncertain.

It should have been the well of beauty, from what they drank. However, no longer was it water, but poison.


Author's Note: Chapter 31 edited on 6th Nov 2020.