Hey everyone!!!!!! Wow, it's so great to see all of you back!!

I'm afraid that, unlike what I used to do, I will not be able to respond to everyone who reviewed. *wails* oh MAN!! :( I'm afraid I must join Cassia and Siobhan on this; I've got SO many of you wonderful people reading it, and so many wonderful reviews it, it takes me an afternoon to give you all the wonderful replies you deserve!!

But, I'll be happy to reply to anyone who has a question, a comment I'd like to comment on, or just a particularly long review. :) I really enjoy responding to you, so bare with me. ;)

I'm afraid that today I can't answer a lot of reviews, because- well, you keep asking questions I can't answer! ;) But I can tell you this- it'll be MUCH much angstier. Much. Much much. *grin*

Halo: Hey! Halo, you were the FIRST TO REVIEW!!! Congrats. ;)

Dujoran: hehe, You're welcome! And may I say, "thank you", for coming along to post? I sure hope you enjoy it!!

Myfanwy: *ducks rule book* now, see here- I…never did a thing to Elrorhir, Elladan, Elrond or Glrofindel, so HA! *grin* We'll just pretend for the moment that Estel and Legolas WEREN'T on that list… :P eh…nice spakin' new Rule Book, by-the-by. It looks really great up close. *rubs nose* eah…I can see I'm going to need some more help on this fic…GRIMI!!!

Elfling: Well, I can tell you this much: if Aragorn DID come back, I can't imagine him saying "hehe, gotcha!" I think Legolas would keel over. ;) LOL And who says he can't hold his breath for 2 days? I mean- some guy on the Discovery Channel went scuba-diving and held HIS breath for 9 hours, who says Aragorn can't set the record? ;) Hehe, I guess that'd be a good excuse, if I were planning on sidestepping realism. *grin*

Bianca: eh…*patpat* ;) You're not like- enthusiastic, are you? No, no no no… :P

Ivy Tante: LOL!! Love the mental picture at the beginning. ;) Hm, sounds like a plan to me, Ivy, but if you do…well, I'll never post the rest of Nefredal. And anyway, I'm too tall to dangle from a tree without hitting my head. :P hehe…You don't scare me…*grin*…GRIMI!!!

Larus: OOOOH it's so good to see you again! :) and along with your long reviews! ;) I'm so glad you like reviewing for me, because I just love reading them! :D LOL, not a red second? How about a blue second, those work just as- no? We've got wonderful teal- oh find. :P As to the 'singing for comfort' thing, yeah, it's an elf thing. Their voices, music, words, and language, though rather melancholy and distant is a sense of beauty to them. It's comfort to hear what they know and understand. The elves are- strange at times, seeing that the most melancholy songs comfort them. *shrug* I love to sing though, that's probably why I added that whole aspect into my stories. :) Great to see you back!!

*whines* I wanna respond to EVERYONE…*pouts* stink. Well, if everyone asks a question, then I'll HAVE to respond to all of you! HAHA! :P I'm- REALLY strange. Yeah. OH well. :D

*leaps behind Grimi* on with the plot!

*****

Chapter 2

A Foolish Endeavor

Edren closed the door silently, and shook the tears from his eyes. Legolas had finally consented to finish the food and tea that had been brought for him, but still refused to leave his friend's side. Edren found the whole thing unsettling and emotionally exhausting. But despite that, he was determined to help his friend and his prince. Legolas was so alone right now, and he could only begin to understand that, but Edren knew he could help, if only a little, by just standing by, and showing his friend how much he was there for him.

Edren walked silently down the corridor towards the stone staircase. He was lost in his own thoughts, when a young elf came dashing towards him. "Larhink, Daurré!"

//calm down, Daurré!//

he sighed, gripping his chest, and breathing heavily. "You frightened me. What is it?"

"Edren. After you left to speak with Legolas; to bring him his food, I went to talk to Prestomin. I thought that he may know what to do to help Legolas more than anyone, since he is a Healer, and one of our best at that. But I could not find him. And when I spoke to Tirniel, to find out where he may be, he would not tell me. If he even knew, I do not know, but he *did* seem to conceal something." Daurré shook his head, and tried to catch his breath.

"What is so wrong with that, Daurré? Perhaps it is cause for concern, but certainly not panic."

"But that is not all. When Tirniel refused to tell me anything, Nyarin, the poor elf who has been in the Healers so long, he said that his brother, Anwé , was missing as well. And one of Raustal's friends, Fenan, was the last person seen with him. I asked around about Fenan, and found that none have seen him recently either! I don't know *what* can be going on…"

"Daurré, calm down," Edren soothed, placing a hand on the panting elf's shoulder. "I am sure it will be all right. Perhaps they have only gone out hunting."

"But Anwé and Fenan were seen but two days ago, when Estel…" Daurré shook his head. "They would not leave their prince at such a time as this."

"No, they would not," Edren agreed. "But we do not know for sure that they are missing, nor that if they are, it is anything to be worried about."

"Yes, Edren, you are right. I am sorry."

"Do not be," Edren smiled, and gently steered Daurré to the stone stairs. "Why don't I try speaking with Tirniel and Nyarin," he suggested, as the two made their way down the staircase. "Perhaps I can find something you could not."

"Yes, Perhaps," Daurré agreed, and smiled gratefully.

The two elves went swiftly to the Healers, and upon reaching it, Edren didn't hesitate before pushing the door open. "Tirniel?" He called, as he and Daurré approached the closet-sized room that was used as an office. Tirniel was at his writing desk, and looked up quickly when the two entered.

"Quiet down, will you? The sick need their rest," he sighed, and rose from his seat. "Forgive my anger. I have much on my mind now."

"Why is that, my friend?" Edren asked gently.

"You would not understand."

"Let me try."

"No, Edren, for I do not wish to tell you." Tirniel pushed past to two elves, and stepped beside one of the many beds in that large room beyond his office. "It is too much for me. I cannot handle all this- this pain. This devastation. And yet…I would never leave."

Edren and Daurré followed him to the bedside silently. Edren stared down at the occupant of the bed, and shuddered. The normally fair face of an elf was marred by cuts and bruises. A long gash ran from his forehead to his cheek, crossing his eye in the process. Edren looked sorrowfully up at Daurré. The elf nodded. "Nyarin," he confirmed, and looked away.

Edren looked anxiously up at Tirniel. "Does he live?"

The healer nodded slowly, then shook his head. "Barely. He will not last long, and since his brother left on that foolish journey, he's become worse."

"Foolish journey?" Edren demanded in bewilderment. "Where? Where did Anwé go?"

Tirniel shook his head again, and sat down on the edge of Nyarin's bed with a sigh. "I cannot say."

"You don't know?" Tirniel didn't respond. Edren shook his head, and knelt down in front of the Healer, so he could look him in the eye. "Where is Prestomin, Tirniel? Where is Fenan? Where is Anwé ? Talk to me Tirniel, you *know* where they are!"

"They are gone."

"Gone where?"

"Away."

"Tirniel!" Edren groaned, rising to his feet. "You *must* tell me this, at the least. Do you *know* where they are?"

Tirniel looked as though he were not going to answer, and then, he nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

"Hannon le," Edren sighed, kneeling in front of the healer again. "Now. Where are they, Tirniel?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Why not? Please, you must tell me."

Tirniel shot to his feet. "Because I've been commanded *not* to. All right, Edren? I am not permitted to say a word on the matter. Leave me be, please! I beg you to leave me." Tirniel sighed, and sat down on the bed's edge again.

"What is the matter, Tirniel. Why are you so upset? It was merely a question, you could have simply told me that Thranduil has commanded you not to speak of it."

"It is not the question, nor the king's command…that is not what disturbs me."

"Then what is it, my friend? Please tell me."

Tirniel rose to his feet slowly, and moved to stand by Nyarin's side. "It is pain. It is death. I have seen more elves die these past days than I've ever seen in my life."

Edren moved quickly from his kneeling position, to his feet, facing the back of Tirniel's head with an alarmed face. "What? Who has died? H-how?!"

Tirniel's head shook slowly. "Maranos, Haithin, Rhinthûr and Meliim. All from that hunting trip to find the Bengwiil. Raustal may have been the first to go as a result of the attack, but he was not the only one. And now five elves, and a mortal man lie dead as a result of Bengwiil. Legolas was right, Edren. He has been the only right one all along, save one other. Bengwiil is altogether evil, and should never have been excepted in Mirkwood a second time. I am so sorry it took five deaths to realize that. And one shall not even have the hope of Mandos awaiting him." Tirniel shook the memory of Aragorn's death out of his head, and looked down, and stroked Nyarin's golden hair gently. "And likely, the number shall soon rise to five that now reside in those halls."

The healer stood silent awhile longer, and then finally turned to face Edren's pain-filled eyes with a similar expression. "So now perhaps you can understand why I act so, Edren. I am sorry that I have been so distant, and perhaps even cold to you. I just- the burden of these deaths weigh so heavily on me. I only wish that Prestomin and Harain were here. That way, I may not feel all the blame is my own. But I know it must be, for I am the only Healer left in these halls, save for Áryto, who does not know enough of Healing to be much assistance...though he tries so."

"But where *are* Prestomin and Harain?" Daurré asked quietly from his position by the office door.

Tirniel appeared as though he weren't going to answer, so Edren stepped in with a different question. "Why were we not told when these elves died?"

"The king ordered it. He didn't wish anyone to know, I know not why."

Edren shook his head sadly. "What of Haithin's sister Átniir? And Meliim's father? And Maranos' brothers, did they not even get to say goodbye? Did you not even tell these elves' families of their beloved's death?"

"Of course we did, to those who we believed could handle it."

"And those who couldn't?"

Tirniel shrugged sadly. "They shall find out soon enough."

Edren's jaw nearly dropped. "You mean to tell me that these elves lie cold in their death, wandering in the Halls of Mandos, and their own families do not know it yet?"

"Only a few of them. Rhinthûr's father and mother do not know as of yet, and only one of Maranos' brothers have been told."

Edren shook his head, and pushed the whole matter aside. He knew there was nothing that Tirniel could do as far as this matter was concerned, as long as Thranduil deemed it permissible.

But he couldn't help wishing that the Healer had done more, so that at least the families of these poor elves, if not their closest friends, could have said goodbye. It didn't seem logical to keep it from them, and then suddenly tell them that their beloved ones were gone for good. It made Edren wonder why Thranduil had establish such a rule.

"Tirniel," he sighed at length. "We need to know where Prestomin, Harain, Anwé , and Fenan are. They could be in danger, if not others we do not *know* are missing. Please, you cannot possibly *not* understand this."

Tiriniel didn't respond for awhile. But finally, he sat down on Nyrain's bed again, and began to speak slowly. "Dyraed, Edärsta, Gwèdelôs and Talaèr."

Edren shook his head. "What of them?"

"They are with the others you search for."

"But- where *are* they?"

Tirniel shook his head. "I cannot tell you."

Edren half-rolled his eyes in frustration. "Have they gone somewhere dangerous? We know at least they are up to something important enough for Thranduil to command it a secret. Tirniel, what if they die? Strange things are about in Mirkwood these days, now that Bengwiil has made its name known again. It is too dangerous for any to be up to secret things in the woods. For that is where they must indeed be. They are certainly not in these Halls any longer."

Tirniel didn't move through the whole speech, as though he hadn't heard a word. "I cannot tell you, the king commands it," he said flatly, and rose from his seat. "Go, Edren. Trouble me no more, I beg you."

Edren sighed, and finally nodded. He put a hand to his chest, and drew it away in the elven farewell, bowing his head slightly to the Healer, and then he and Daurré went swiftly out the door, and away from the pain-filled atmosphere of the Healers.

"Now what shall we do?" Daurré asked quietly, turning to Edren. The elf was walked silently beside Daurré , and he looked to be in deep thought.

"Edärsta is Meliim's father," he said slowly.

"Yes?" Daurré asked, not understanding what the point was.

"And Dyraed is one of Maranos's brothers, as is Gwèdelôs."

"What are you saying, Edren?"

Edren stopped mid-stride, and turned to his friend. "Daurré , don't you understand? All the elves that are missing, save the two Healers, are friends or relatives of these departed elves."

Daurré thought a moment. "What of Talaèr? He has no brother nor son among those elves."

"But was he not a close friend of Haithin's?"

Daurré slowly nodded. "I believe you are right. But I still do not understand, what does all this matter?"

Edren sighed. "I know not. But perhaps someone else does."

"Who?"

"The one friend or relative of these elves that is not missing."

Daurré paused a moment. "Are you sure you wish to bother her, Edren? She's been upset for a long time, and now we know why, I can understand. She's been mourning her brother's loss all this while. I doubt she wishes to be bothered about it all."

Edren shook his head. "It's the only plan I can think of, Daurré . Let us go have a talk with Haithin's sister, Átniir."

**********

"Are you even sure she is still here?" Daurré asked quietly as the two approached Átniir's room door.

"Yes, she and my Thernäd have been spending much time together these past days." Edren knocked softly on the oak door, but nothing happened. Not a sound could be heard within, even by elven ears. After a long moment, Edren called, "Átniir? It is Edren. Will you not let me in, I wish to speak with you."

Silence ensued for a few more minutes. Daurré was about to suggest they leave, when they heard soft footsteps approach the door. "Edren?" came a quiet voice.

"It is I, Átniir. And Daurré as well."

"…what do you want?"

"I wish to speak with you about Talaèr."

Silence a moment. Then, "Why don't you come in."

Edren pushed gently on the oak door, and found Átniir standing not far behind it. She was a lovely elf, as all evles were, but there was an uncommon but understandable look in her blue-green eyes. Her very presence was weary, and she looked as though she were fatigued by tears. It was a look Edren knew well now. A look he'd seen on Legolas' face.

Noticing all this, put a sudden thought into mind. "I am very sorry about Haithin, Átniir. I did not know till this morning, for if I had, I would have spoken with you sooner, and helped if I could."

"I know you would," she responded quietly, pushing her long, blonde hair behind her pointed ear gingerly. "Thernäd was here for me, and it did help. You should thank her for being such support for me, now you know that she was."

"That I shall," Edren nodded.

"And if I can do anything, Átniir, I shall be glad to," Daurré put in softly.

"You are very kind," Átniir smiled, and then paused, and turned to Edren again. "Now what about Talaèr, Edren?"

"Ah, yes. Well, I was wondering- seeing he was a friend of Haithin's, if you know where he is."

Átniir stood a moment in thought, and then looked up slowly. "Why?"

Edren's heart raced. She knew, he could see it in her eyes. She knew something she did not wish to tell. He didn't know whether to be excited or worried. "Well, we have reason to believe that he, and perhaps others we've not seen recently as well, could be in serious danger."

"What sort of danger?"

"Well, the woods aren't a friendly place at this time. Not after the attack on the hunters. There could be orcs, wargs, or worse out there. Not to mention this resurrection of the name of- well, you know of-"

"Bengwiil?" Átniir said softly, sinking into a well-stuffed chair, and offering the couch across from her to the companions. Edren nodded gratefully as he and Daurré took a seat.

"Yes, Bengwiil."

"I doubt that Talaèr will encounter any of that horrid plant in the woods."

"So that *is* where he's gone? Who else is there with him, Átniir? Why are they in the woods?"

"Hunting," Átniir responded briefly, though she looked as one who'd just told their first lie.

"Átniir," Edren said sternly, leaning forward to look her in the eye. "You know what they are up to. I *need* to know. It could mean everything. A lot of elves died last they ventured into Mirkwood alone. I don't want to lose anymore lives over this."

"Over what?"

"Bengwiil! You can deny if you'd like, Átniir, but this *must* have to do with Bengwiil. There is no other explanation."

Átniir was silent again, and she stared at nothing a long while. Presently, she raised her gaze to Edren's, which had not left her since his last comment. "They said they would sooner kill any interferers then turn back."

"I care not, Átniir. Please, just tell me. Won't you tell me what you know?"

Átniir finally nodded, and half-smiled. "I suppose I've nothing to lose anymore. Very well then, Edren, you are right. They have gone into Mirkwood."

**********

No one spoke a long while. They'd been waiting there for almost an hour, and still he had not come. But finally, the dark room's door opened, and Fenan stepped in. "I apologize, I am late, my friends. Prince Legolas has returned to his room. His friend, Estel, is dead." He paused a moment, as the elves took it in slowly, many looking at each other with the empathy they felt for their prince. Fenan paced to the wooden table stationed in the center of his room. "I shall get straight to it. I am very grieved by the pain that has befallen all of you, as it did my own Raustal. We all shall miss our friends, sons and brothers."

Everyone bowed there heads, and a soft echo of Sindarin swept over the room, as they all remembered their recently departed loved-ones.

"But it is time, now, to take action. It is all right to be saddened, it is understandable to grieve, and it is more than expectable to weep. But how far shall it get us?"

"What are you saying, Fenan?" Dyraed spoke up quietly from his spot at the back of the room. "I have no wish to stand here and speak of the unspeakable. It is painful enough to deal with pain. I do not wish to have to discuss it so callously." Dyraed broke off, and tears could be heard in his voice. Gwèdelôs moved swiftly to him, and put a comforting arm around his older brother's shoulders.

"I know, Dyraed, and I understand your pain. I have not lost a brother, but Raustal was as close to me as a brother could be. I know you and your brother are broken by Maranos's loss. But it is time to go beyond ourselves to something greater."

"What?" Edärsta demanded, growing visibly tired of this seemingly useless discussion.

"That is where we reach my plan," Fenan responded softly. "I purpose this; that we journey into Mirkwood, slay our beloved's murderers, and retrieve the Bengwiil they were sent for. All of it!"

Anwé stood up immediately, and rushed to the front of the room. "I am with you, Fenan! Ea nach im, mellon nin."

//I am with you, my friend.//

Fenan smiled, and looked over the remainder of the people present. They did not look nearly as convinced as Anwé had been.

"Is this your 'plan'?" Edärsta demanded, moving towards Fenan. "Rush into the woods for revenge? Killing orcs and retrieving a load of dangerous herbs? This is what you call 'rising above ourselves'?!"

"Edärsta, I do not ask you to rush out merely for revenge. If we destroyed the orcs, it would be less danger for the other hunters that venture into Mirkwood. And if we brought back Bengwiil, we could save the lives of many more elves. You can think of it as 'revenge' if you wish it so, but I should like to think of it as aid. As a service to our king. I ask none of you to go against you wishes. But this is the only way I can think of to honor Raustal's death. And I shall go."

"And I am with you. If it means saving my brother," Anwé nodded resolutely. "Let our good deed begin with my brother, Nyarin, whom we can save, once the Bengwiil is obtained." And Fenan nodded as well.

It was quiet in the room a long while as the elves thought over what Fenan had said. "I shall go." Talaèr's voice was quiet, as he walked towards Fenan and Anwé . "For Haithin."

Átniir's eyes filled with tears as she heard this. Slowly, she rose to her feet, for she had been sitting on Fenan's bed. "I wish to honor my brother," she said softly. "But understand me, Fenan. I do *not* believe this is the way to honor the dead. You shall only join them in death, of that I am sure."

Fenan sighed. "I did not think you should come anyway, Átniir. It is not an elf maiden's place, in battle. But I was hoping for support. Perhaps you could at least cover for us, should anyone ask as to our whereabouts?"

Átniir shook her head slowly. "I shall have no part of this madness."

Fenan shook his head as well, and bit his lip. "That is fine. It is your choice. But hear this, Átniir. Tell no one of where we are. I shall sooner kill any interferers than be turned back."

"I understand," Átniir said flatly, and sat hard down on the bed again.

There was silence again, and it was clear that Fenan was displeased but the change in atmosphere due to Átniir's comments. It had risen to near-acceptance, but now it fell back to hesitancy. Fenan stepped forward. "Who will be with us? For we shall depart tomorrow morning." Still nothing. Fenan took another step in desperation. "How can I make you understand?!" But no response was made. And with that, Fenan walked to his bedroom door, and threw it open.

Through the open doorway, they could clearly hear the heartrending music floating from Legolas' door.

"Garonach im, mellon nin. Kuin im, kuiv im, na naeg im."

//I'm holding onto you, my friend. I'm alive, awake, and I'm hurting.//

"You understand that, do you not? Have you no love for your prince! Let us go for him, and retrieve the plant that he didn't have to heal his friend. Let us go for Estel, who spoke to us, and showed us our love for our prince, that night when Bengwiil was mentioned again."

"Fenan, close the door," Edärsta asked quietly, but Fenan, realizing that he had finally captured his audience, held the door open.

"If you go for nothing else, go for your prince. To avenge his friend, and challenge his sorrow. Go for your prince, my brothers. Go for Legolas."

It was quiet again for a long time. The only sound in the room was the distant sound of Legolas' voice.

"I shall go for his highness," Gwèdelôs gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze in reassurance, and he stepped towards Fenan.

"As will I," agreed Dyraed as his brother reached the group of elves assembled by the door. He too stepped up Fenan, and held his brother's hand tightly. Now the only ones who remained sitting were Átniir and Edärsta.

Edärsta looked as though he were thinking hard. But Átniir remained unmoved, as she sat on Fenan's bed, her hands clenched in her lap, and her eyes shut tight against the mournful song drifting into the bedroom.

"I can see no point in this," Edärsta said at length, rising from his chair. "But I do love my prince. I will go for Legolas as well." And the father moved to stand beside the others.

Átniir's eyes opened slowly, and she stared in despair at all the elves standing by the door. "You shall all go then. To your so-called 'vengeance', and then to your ruin." She rose from the bed, and stared hard at Talaèr in particular. "So be it, then." And she walked swiftly to the door, Legolas' melody becoming louder and louder in her ears as she walked.

When she had reached the doorway, she turned, and there were tears in her eyes. "I pray you find peace in the Halls of Mandos." And she walked away and left them to their self-chosen fate.

**********

Átniir shook her head, and focused on Edren once more. "That is all I have to tell. They left the next morning, and I've not seen nor heard word of their whereabouts since."

Edren was silent a long moment, still reflecting on what Átniir had just said. Finally, he spoke. "I am grieved indeed to hear this." He rose from his seat, and paced slightly across the wood floor. "We must go after them," he said at length.

Átniir shook her head again and sighed. "It is no use. You cannot dissuade them."

"I do not intend to," Edren responded simply. "I intend to help them."

"Help them?" Daurré 's face was a picture of confusion. "I do not understand. You are going to *join* them in their search for Bengwiil?"

"No, my friend, of course not. If no one else, I at least should know that retrieving Bengwiil will only hurt Legolas more than he has been."

"Then what *do* you mean?" Átniir asked quietly.

"I think they are in trouble, and if so, I mean to send them aid."

"You jump to a fairly hasty conclusion, Edren," Átniir pointed out. "What, pray, makes you so sure that they are in trouble?"

"Well, anything having to do with Bengwiil is bad news, that's just one reason. Also, Raustal and his company set out late in the night to retrieve Bengwiil, and returned the following night. Fenan, Anwé , and their company have been gone for two days now."

Átniir sighed, and sat back in her chair. "I still think that is quite an assumption."

"And perhaps it is. But it is better to be cautious, and perhaps over-apprehensive, then to lose eight more lives to the Halls of Mandos."

There was silence awhile, and finally Átniir spoke. "If that is your conclusion, Edren, so be it. But how will you ever get permission to send such a party into the woods *alone*? I have no doubt that Fenan will be in trouble with his majesty, if Thranduil finds out he's taken seven elves into Mirkwood with him. Whether they went of their own accord or not. They had not permission to do so, and neither do you!"

"I doubt that Thranduil cares much anymore," Edren sighed, sitting down beside Daurré once more. "Seeing that he has commanded Tirniel to keep it quiet."

"Edren, he is our *king*," Átniir said softly, looking fixedly at the elf before her.

"What king? We *have* no king!" Edren shouted, rising to his feet once more, and looking down at Átniir in frustration. "Until Thranduil realizes that he cannot rule Mirkwood from the darkness of his room, we have no king."

No one spoke. Daurré cleared his throat nervously, but said nothing. Finally, Edren spoke again. "I am sorry, Átniir," he sighed, sitting down beside Daurré for the final time. "I understand what you mean, and I do owe Thranduil my allegiance, despite his own actions. You were right to correct me."

"But I know what you feel," Átniir responded softly. "I cannot deny the same thoughts go through my own head."

"And mine as well," Daurré put in regretfully.

Átniir smiled at him and nodded. "But despite all this, Edren, you will need his consent to take even Daurré into Mirkwood, and search for these missing elves."

"Istón," he replied quietly, and held back a frustrated sigh.

"Worry not," Átniir told him kindly, rising to her feet, as Daurré and Edren quickly did the same. "You will get his consent, I believe. Even a distant king has concern for his people."

Edren and Daurré put their hands to their chests, in a farewell, and walked out the door Átniir opened for them. "May the Valar give our king wisdom to hear you," she called softly after them, and closed the door."