The silence in the camp had never been so loud, so pronounced, as weak sparks shot out of the triangle of sticks and dead wood where they were trying to start a fire. No one spoke, and the air around them seemed heavy with whispers -- whispers, moans...screams. Riedel's scream echoed in all of their ears, in their hearts as with a loud cackle that still could not break the silence, the fire began to warm their battle-sore bodies.

Krystal sat at the edge of the camp, gazing off into the distance, lost -- not in thought, but rather..in silence. She concentrated on not thinking, not recalling, not seeing anything but the vermillion sparks shooting into the night, the darkness heavy with shadows. Glorifindel was slowly wrapping Legolas's arm with a large, flat leaves he had found in place of bandages. The light scent of the burning athleas plant that was being heated and then pressed into Legolas's wound could not even have too much effect on their hearts -- though it did clear their minds and allowed the Elrohir and Glorfindel to go about their healing. Legolas kept his eyes on the steady trickle of scarlet that was slowly dripping from his shoulder as his arm was wrapped in the make-shift bandage; next to him, Tharros's leg was already wrapped by Elrohir's strong hands, tiny pieces of the athleas plant poking out of the bandage. Elladan was boiling water -- thankfully, they had managed to salvage a few pots, as Krystal had been carrying them -- and was throwing miscellaneous herbs into the steaming water, trying to come up with a substitute for food. Aragorn alone stood; he walked between the light and the darkness, blending into the shadows, the light of the fire gleaming in his dark eyes. His footsteps did not penetrate the heavy silence, but Krystal knew he was there -- he paced back and forth, running his hand over the blade of his sword, checking and rechecking his daggers and blades. Annore, his back braced against a tree, had dropped his head onto his chest, though they knew from his erratic breathing that he had not yet fallen into sleep. He whispered to himself, harsh words of failure and loss, heartbreaking acceptance beginning to cause a droop in his proud stance.

Finally, Glorifindel's voice, usually so musical, but now hoarse from battle-cries, broke the silence. "We make for Old Forest Road in the morning," he said quietly. "We should reach Dol Guldur within a few days."

No one answered him, and his words were carried away by the wind. Krystal shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them, but no one else moved. A few minutes passed before a voice, raw with the anguish of defeat, finally was spoken loud enough to chase away the whispers. It was, of course, Annore.

"What chance do you think we have?" He asked slowly, his eyes on the cackling fire. None looked at him, Glorfindel rising and putting his back to the camp as he faced West -- and Annore continued. "We have little food, and no water, and nothing to carry supplies in. Our containers were lost. We have no means of travel, and have sacrificed the lives of noble creatures whose only fault was obedience." He raised his head now, his voice shaking, raspy, desperate -- pulsing with emotion. His eyes were clouded, seeing yet unseeing, and Elladan, who glanced up, knew he spoke out of grief, not reason. "We have lost our cloaks, and most of our weapons. What we did save we had to use to get out of the mines--"

"Nay," Legolas contradicted, his voice sharp. "Despair clouds your memory. We all have our swords, and the elves carried numerous quivers on our backs. Weapons are not an issue."

Silence again. Tharros, who was now sitting, legs spread, his head resting against the bark of a tree, spoke. "Thought of everything, have you?" Tharros asked mockingly, but his voice lacked a sarcastic tone. "Everything except darkness. We have no torches, no matches. We used some of the last matches we had tonight. We have yet to even enter the darkness of Mirkwood, where the trees themselves are perilous."

"Do not speak of things you do not know," Aragorn snapped. "You have never been in Mirkwood, and do not forget our advantage -- Mirkwood's own Prince will lead our party through the maze of trees."

"If the trees do not swallow us first," Tharros muttered, gloomy and despairing. Krystal shivered again, and Legolas and Elladan glanced at her. They shared a look before Elladan announced quietly, "We shall speak no more of this tonight. Grief steals logic from us in the night."

"More has been stolen from us than just logic," Annore snarled, glaring at the elf, who did not flinch. "A life has been snatched from our presence."

"Do not cast the blame towards others, Annore." Tharros interceded, his voice quiet. His words were meant only for Annore, but he did not take into account the elves sharp earring. "I will cast the blame every which way I want," Annore snapped back, his eyes now straying to Legolas. A vein pulsed in Legolas's temple, and his face darkened, but he did not speak.

"Riedel's death is a tragedy, Master Annore. It effects us all. Do not think that you are alone in your grief-"

"Alone?" Annore shot back, his eyes bulging out of his rapidly paling face. "I am not the one who is alone right now-- Riedel is. Alone in the darkness, with only goblin blades for company!" His voice rose steadily as he continued to speak, 'till his last word came out as shout.

"And what will you have us do about it?!" Legolas cried, abandoning reserve and jumping to his feet, towering over the man. Krystal watched warily, spreading out her bedroll [it had been carried on her back] parallel to the fire. Annore stood a few feet in front of her, and she curled up in a ball, her eyes glued to the pair of adversaries. "Do you have us die along side Riedel?! He has fallen--" his voice broke, but he forged on and his tone rose an octave --" but there is nothing we can do to change the past! Let the dead remain dead, Annore, do not drag the living down with them!"

"He wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for you!" Annore cried. "You have seen thousands of summers and thousands of winters; Riedel was but a boy. It was you who should have fallen! It was you who should have been noble enough to step aside and let a boy who had barely begun to live carry on his life!"

Legolas's face had darkened, and he turned away from Annore, his fist clenched. When he spoke again, his voice was tight and controlled, but quiet -- Legolas would not let this man ruin his self control again. His eyes latched onto the stars as he began to tell them what had really happened. "I told Riedel to grab the rope minutes before the ledge fell and he insisted I take it. Before we could decide, the ledge began to slip, and Riedel lunged for the rope. It was he who was so willing to sacrifice me, Annore, not the other way around. I would have Riedel stand here in my place if I could, but I cannot. Accept it, or you will not be able to deal with the shadows of Mirkwood, for the shadows in your mind will conquer you before any evil that dwells in Mirkwood ever has a chance."

Annore was shaking with fury, anger, sadness -- then suddenly, he deflated. The air suddenly rushed out of him and he collapsed, sobbing. He hid his face in his hands as sobs racked his body, his legs giving way as he completely lost it. Krystal lunged towards him and caught him before he hit the ground, his body shaking with emotion. She wrapped her arms around him as he buried his head in her shoulder, all traces of pride lost as he let the emotion of seeing a man in his charge -- from his village, a man he had hand chosen to accompany him on this mission -- fall to his death. She rocked back and forth, slowly easing him to the ground, wrapping her arms around him as she muttered, "Shh..shh.." Tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin as the grown man succumbed to his emotions in her arms. Legolas fled to the trees, quietly noting that he would take first watch, springing into the shadows above them. The rest of the party watched, their own hearts aching.

No one spoke, and except for Annore's muffle, dry sobbing and Krystal consoling murmurs, it was silent. The wind howled through the trees..soundly strangely like Riedel's last scream before he plunged to his death.

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Author's Notes: Hey, all! Thanks for the updates! Hope you liked this little installment -- kind of pointless, but we needed to resolve Annore's emotional problems or he'll never survive in Mirkwood. Plus, I wanted to itinerate the items lost with the horses. Note: Annore's reaction towards the end of this chapter may seem a bit OOC [out of character], but you have to think about it before you judge. He's been through the emotional stress of 1) a battle, 2) a rockslide 3) loss of all of his supplies. On top of that, a man he took into his care has died doing a task assigned to Riedel by Annore. Annore hand picked Riedel for this mission - he was responsible for the younger man. Plus, Annore's village is small [says so earlier in the story] and he and Riedel must have had some history together. Riedel's death was not only dramatic, but shocking, as he was so close to safety... So, yeah. Just keep all of that in mind before you consider Annore acting OOC. Thanks!