*walks in and ducks several flying objects* Uh, well, hello people…Missed me? *steps to the side evading some sharp, pointy thing coated with a dark fluid*. Guess that means…yes? *coughs violently*.

I know, I promised an update nearly a month ago, but, uhm, how should I say… Real Life got into my way. Or better said, my parents. They heartily disagree about me spending time on the internet, let alone writing fics. And they make their displeasure openly and loudly known. So I wrote all the chapter nine on paper *gasp, yes there still is something out there which in former ages was used to –WRITE—upon!!!* So, 40 pages later, I finished it… And started to transfer it bit by bit on my computer. Alas, the Valar hate me, I think it's official now. I have two rather nasty exams (physical chemistry—now that's an evil word if there ever was one), so the transferring thingy is very, very much slowed… So, I decided to post this little part of it, kind like a longish author's note with an attachement.

It's not chapter 9, but 8b, an interlude to see how Legolas and Faramir are faring.

Something like a teaser, an appetizer, or simply a way to let you people know I haven't dropped off the planet - yet.

As my time on the internet is very limited, I'm afraid I can't post the reviewer's responses this time. But I want you to know, that I LOVE YOU!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!! YOU KEEP ME GOING!!! THANX A BUNCH!!!!*huggles reviewers*

Very special thanks to my beta Katiestar… YOU ARE AWESOME, DARLING!!! *huggles Tux* I hope the swelling has gone down yet, if not, remember that hamsters are very cute… Thanks a bunch.

Thanks, too, go to Shandrial… She more or less gave me the push I needed to post this little chapter. *huggles her only to find some sharp thing poking into her back* Uhm, Shandrial…?

I would like to seize the opportunity to recommend to you the stories of those two talented authors as are Katiestar and Shandrial. You can find them under these pen names or under my favourite stories/author's section at my bio page

Well, on with the story…

Disclaimer: Tolkien is God, Iluvitar himself, and I am nothing….but a Valar!!! *cackles*

Therefore, as a Valar, I am allowed to mess…Ehem,*coughs* , interact with his creations. It's what Morgoth did, after all,*thunder and lightning* Ooops… I forgot… S-sorry. *whispers* A good advice: Never mention M****** when He's around. There's not surer way to piss Him off! *more lightning and thunder* Ok, ok, I will be silent! *grumbles* My, is he demanding today…

DARKNESS STIRS

Chapter 8b: INTERLUDE: Of Princes and Princes

Legolas sighed. As much as the soldiers tried, they advanced only slowly, hindered by the territory and more importantly, their limited strength. He knew they were trying hard to get to Eryn Feredron as soon as possible, but it was certainly no use if they arrived too exhausted to fight. The question was if their eagerness to reach the Elven city was solely based on the desire to aid their allies, or if they were driven by their fear of him. Ever since that fateful event hours ago they had been watching him; he could feel their looks on him, frightened, astonished ones, full of suspicion. Faramir himself was watching him constantly, but whenever he looked at him, he averted his eyes, refusing to meet his. The soldiers, too, had withdrawn from him discreetly, to give him more privacy.

*Or more space to break my neck, should I decide to fall from my horse again. And who can blame them? I would be less than thrilled, too, to fight alongside a madman given to sudden attacks. I'm sure they blame me for the storm. Little do they know that they wouldn't have survived the night without my intervention…*

Once again Faramir's eyes seemed to burn through his back. Tired of this awkward situation Legolas steered his horse next to him. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the soldiers silently draw closer, casting ill-concealed apprehensive glances his way. Though knowing better, Legolas felt hurt. Years of working and fighting side by side, and a few minutes were sufficient to reawaken ancient fears and superstitions. *Or maybe they weren't gone altogether, but simply buried in the back of their minds,* he sighed inwardly. Squaring his shoulders he forced his facial muscles into a lopsided grin and shot Faramir a questioning look. Unable to evade Legolas anymore because he was simply too close, Faramir eyed him wearily, as if expecting him to sprout wings or a tail. Legolas smiled wickedly. Looking down at himself he arched an eyebrow.

"Have I grown three legs while I wasn't looking, or are you just so entranced by my beauty that you can't take your eyes off me?" Grinning cockily he leaned closer whispering conspiratorially. "I'd be careful with Eowyn if I were you. I'm sure she is one of the jealous kind, and I'd really hate it if you awoke one morning only to see that your wife had thought it fitting to relieve you of certain parts of your body I'm sure you are very attached to…"

"If it were only some member or other she would remove…Knowing her it I'd be more likely to wake up with a dagger buried in my heart!" Faramir replied dryly, unconsciously covering the most treasured part of his body with a hand. "Besides, I'm sure she would lay the blame on the correct person," he gave his friend a pointed look, "after all, who is the debauched one, laying claim on everything that has two legs - although as rumours go, it is said that counting is not really one of your strengths…" Nimbly ducking a swing at his head he steered his horse out of Legolas' reach.

"Nay, mellon nîn, it's not your beauty I crave, but…Oh Legolas, what happened earlier? The storm, the light… Your chanting! I must confess you scared me witless."

Shrugging his shoulders, Legolas pondered. "I really don't know. If I hazarded a guess, I would think it was some ancient magic of the forest. You know how attached we are to our surroundings, and it was only due to that that my father was able to protect some of Mirkw…I mean Eryn Lasgalen, from the shadows." Legolas cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment at having misnamed his own home, shooting Faramir an warning glare that spoke volumes about his desire to tear the former ranger limb from limb, should he as much as breathe in the following seconds. Satisfied of having deterred him from such a suicidal action, he continued. "We didn't possess one of the three, as Imladris or Lothlorien did, so we had to protect ourselves with our sweat and blood. That's why we Wood Elves are some of the best warriors on Middle-Earth!" Unaware of the amused look of his friend at this less than modest statement, he simply carried on. "The magic of the earth and the forest aided us, shielding our warriors from unfriendly eyes and reporting to us the goings on of our enemy. I thought that only my father was privy to the power to bend the forest to his will, but it seems than I am, too. This forest is old, very old, and full of wrath and memories. It has been mistreated and abused too long by Sauron's minions so that it had to develop defence mechanisms. Now darkness is stirring again in these woods, the defence mechanisms have been reactivated, it was obviously one of these that we encountered." He drifted off, lost in thought. Slight tremors wracked his body, and he huddled closer to the horse, as if seeking comfort in its body's warmth.

"We will arrive in time. By tomorrow evening we will be there, and I'm really looking forward to kicking them back to the holes they crept from. Don't forget, Aragorn and Gimli are there too. Knowing them, they might want to keep all the fun for themselves!" Faramir tried to cheer up the Prince, grinning broadly as it elicited a weak chuckle from his friend.

"Aye, you are right, as always, Master human. But maybe it might be wise to take a short break for the remainder of the night. Your soldiers have already picked up the elvish trait of sleeping with open eyes. Unfortunately, they lack our grace and our coordination, so unless we want to lead an army full of people with stubbed toes, bumps on the head or more grievous injuries, we should stop."

"I fully agree, oh wise one. We wouldn't want to shame you by mastering this skill in one night; you had to hone it over centuries, after all…" This time Faramir had not much luck in avoiding Legolas, and he rubbed his head gingerly, glaring at the very pleased-looking Elf. Ignoring him he turned towards his men and called for a stop. The soldiers dismounted, and relieved sighs echoed through the night. He smiled. The short banter with Legolas had served its purpose; it had eased the tension considerably. Those who had overheard their conversation were now eagerly spreading the good news that Prince Legolas had saved them through ancient Elven magic.

"By dinner time they will fully believe you will squash our foes by snapping your fingers or simply telling the earth to open up and swallow them, Legolas." He teased his friend. But instead of picking up on his clue and continuing with the banter, the Elf suddenly looked aggravated.

"Much good will it do," he muttered darkly, "as soon as the battle starts they will realize that my blood is as easily spilled as theirs and that no magic will come and rescue us. What will happen then?"

Faramir sobered immediately when he sensed Legolas' changed mood. Apparently the time for banter was over, and so he simply resorted to squeezing the Elf's arm reassuringly.

"Let them believe, Legolas. As long as they have faith there is no place for fear and despair in their hearts. As you know from your own experience, nothing is worse than a disheartened warrior. By the time they realize that no magic will be involved in the battle you will be already fighting alongside them. They will love you the more for it too. Nothing else gains their respect and love like having your leaders facing the enemy with them, in the front lines."

Legolas smiled weakly. "True are your words and full of wisdom. Valar!" he exclaimed, "The day has come that I am comforted by the words of a barely weaned child!" He shook his head in mock disgust. Faramir stared hard at his friend and then simply shrugged his shoulders in resignation. A deep sigh escaped him. *Elves! I have yet to find someone who claims to understand these fey creatures… More mood swings than pregnant women!*

Legolas had already ridden forward, silently shaking with laughter. But Faramir was unwilling to loose this particular war of wits.

"Well, it seems that Gimli was right after all, oh ancient one." At that Legolas halted his horse and stiffened. Faramir chuckled. Mentioning Gimli was always the infallible way to gain the Elf's full attention. Legolas turned in his saddle and shot him a quizzical look.

"Pray tell, what wise words leaked out of that bottomless hole in his beard that dwarf calls his mouth?"

"That your age is finally telling. He always proclaims you are naught but an old tottering fool. He seems to be right, after all!"

Once again Faramir was taken off guard, and he suddenly found himself lying on his back, staring at the starry night. Before he had time to wonder how it came to be that one moment he was high on his horse, looking into the face of an irritated Elf-Lord and the next moment he was on the ground, a face appeared in his line of sight. Legolas. Again.

"Is it comfortable down there, mellon nîn?" he beamed. Faramir growled silently as he noticed that some of the soldiers had gathered around them, desperately struggling to keep their faces straight and utterly failing. It was truly not a common sight to see your Prince flung unceremoniously from his mount by another member of the aristocracy. Nor for two so distinguished people to behave so… improperly, childishly even.

Legolas couldn't care less for propriety and simply laughed uproariously into his face until tears started streaming down his cheeks. With a growl Faramir lunged at him. Maybe he shouldn't have forgotten that Legolas was an Elf after all, an Elf with Elven reflexes, an Elf who simply stepped aside and watched interestedly Faramir's flight- and especially his landing. Once again Faramir was lying down on the ground. This time face down.

"Ah, finally Prince Faramir has found his place," he drawled into Faramir's ear, " on the ground, at my feet." He graced Faramir with a feral smile. Faramir grabbed at the ankles in front of his nose, but Legolas danced easily to the side. "Tut, tut, my dear Prince, it seems you haven't learned your lesson after all. Maybe another mouthful of dust would be helpful?"

Someone cleared his throat behind them. Faramir got up slowly, dusting his clothes with as much dignity as he could muster under such conditions, while Legolas was leaning lazily against a tree. Beregond, Ithilien's first guard eyed them disapprovingly. Under his scrutiny Faramir started to fidget and had to suppress his urge to shuffle his feet guiltily. Legolas, however, was completely unfazed, but watched Faramir with open amusement.

"Well, your Highnesses, maybe you could join the counsel to plan the battle strategy after you have stopped grappling like peasant boys." Faramir bristled at such disrespect but refrained from pointing it out to Beregond, for he among few others had earned the right to speak his mind freely and if he thought that his Prince deserved a scolding, he would do so and all protests would only worsen his dressing down. So Faramir simply settled for a withering glare and a royal sniff and walked with his head held high towards the now erected tents. Legolas snorted and after a mock sweeping bow in front of Faramir – which he wisely ignored - followed him silently.

Legolas wrapped his cloak more tightly around him, because although the nightly chill didn't affect him, another sort of coldness seeped into his bones, wearing him down. The whispers of the forests were growing louder. They were telling him that Eryn Feredron was loosing. Loosing badly.

TBC…. Next update tentatively scheduled…*hey, look at that squirrel!* Lol, just kidding. My exams will be over on October the 2nd, so I will transfer every bit on the computer on that very day. Then I will send it off to my amazing beta… And if everything progresses nicely, the chapter 9: … FROM THE ASHES will be online next weekend (4th/5th of Oct) I know I have announced updates previously only to have failed, so you have no reason to believe this time to be different. Well, if I haven't update then, you know I'm dead or very close to it, for nothing short of that will impede me from transferring and posting it!!!

About the sexual innuendo between Faramir and our damn hot Elf… This is not a slash fic (and not because I don't like them, quite on the contrary, I'm a fanfic-fanatic, and I read just about everything).

Faramir belongs to Eowyn, and she is very possessive about him (just ask the poor scullery maid that dared to lay eyes on him… or Faramir for that matter. I guess he hasn't recovered yet from the shock – poor sod).
About our favourite Elf's preferences… I don't know whether he is gay, hetero or bi, you'll have to ask him yourself. I don't know what he's doing in his private life, I've only hired him from dusk till dawn to have my wicked way with him (not what you think! *glares* we have a strictly professional relationship!) I know these aren't ideal working conditions- but hey, look at the job market! Even a Prince has to take what he gets nowadays!

Enough rambling, I think it's enough non-sense for today… Just one little thing, before I forget…*coughs, pointing discreetly at a certain button at the bottom* Ehem, that would be awfully kind…