Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
A/N: I'm getting to the action soon, promise!
When Faramir came downstairs, the messenger was waiting. He was a tall Elf, engaged in conversation with Éowyn and Legolas, all three still wearing their riding clothes.
"We met him on the way," explained Éowyn, her hair loose and tangled after the ride.
The Elf bowed. "Gildor Inglorion, of Imladris, at your service."
"And your message?"
"One that Lord Celeborn considered too important to entrust to mere paper. Is there somewhere private we may speak?"
"Of course," Faramir replied, taking Éowyn's arm, but not before tugging a stray leaf out of her curls with a grin. "Legolas, will you join in the discussion?"
"If it is appropriate." replied Legolas, looking to Gildor for confirmation.
Gildor nodded. "I think that what I have to say involves all of Ithilien, Men and Elves both."
"Then it is settled. Shall we?"
Only once the great oak doors were closed behind them did Gildor speak.
"Have you seen anything near Mordor? Does anything yet stir in the dark realm?"
Faramir frowned. "My patrols are still harassed by Orcs, but they are scattered, leaderless. Legolas, would your people agree?"
Legolas nodded. "We have hunted them back into the dark mountains. Most of those who were left have fled East. They lurk in the darkness, waiting for lone travellers, or the reckless and incautious. The shadow recedes, though. Ithilien blooms again, the trees sing, the mountains rejoice. No, I do not think there remains any great danger from Mordor way."
Gildor frowned. "Until recently, I would have agreed with you. The twins still hunt Yrch, but each time they ride out there are fewer to slay. The people grow content. My Lords, they grow content and unwary."
"And you think that someone, or something, intends to disrupt that?" asked Éowyn. "It is true, in these times of peace we perhaps grow lazy. The patrols are used to winning; they tell tales of victory after victory, and their losses are few. But the enemy they face now are weak."
"Perhaps not all the enemy is so weakened." added Legolas. "Is that what you imply, Inglorion? Can you not be more clear?"
The other Elf bowed his head. "I apologise, son of Thranduil, for the manner of my speech, but the information we have received is unclear, at the best. All I know is that the Lord Celeborn rode for Gondor, the day before I left Imladris. His message to you was this: Beware the East. No more, no less."
"We should, perhaps, increase the strength of the patrols to the East." said Faramir.
"And to the north as well." Éowyn added. "Remember it is not only Mordor we may be dealing with, but Rhûn also."
"It shall be done." said Faramir. "Gildor, can you offer us anything more?"
"I cannot." replied Gildor. "I hope that it is enough."
"My archers will add their strength to yours," Legolas said, "But I fear I must depart. I do not think the danger comes from Mordor but perhaps Rhûn, and if it is Rhûn from which the threat comes, then I must return to Eryn Lasgalen, to defend my kin."
"And you will be greatly missed," said Éowyn, embracing him. "But you must not travel alone." She turned her bright gaze on Gildor. "Gildor, would you accompany him?"
"I would be honoured." replied Gildor. Then he grinned. "After all, he will need someone older and wiser, such as myself, to keep him out of trouble."
"Keep me out of trouble!" laughed Legolas. "I should imagine I will have my hands full, just keeping up with your mischief."
The two Elves left, light banter floating back down the hall.
"Are you feeling well?" Éowyn asked Faramir, a look of concern on her face.
"A little tired," he admitted, "but I will live." He brushed her hair away from her face, leaning in for a kiss. "Do not worry."
"I will be watching you." she warned, wagging a finger. "You should take better care of yourself."
"Yes, Naneth." he said, laughing. "I am starving, as a matter of fact. You can scold me further over lunch."
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"Who are you?"
"That is not of importance at the moment, Undomiel." The figure paused. "But you may call me Luin, if you wish to give me a name." He took a seat, either unaware or uncaring of the eyes focused on him.
"Then why are you here. And why…" Arwen waved a hand at the form of her grandfather, sprawled in the seat in a most un-elven way, the grey eyes of a stranger staring back at her.
"Why like this? I had no other choice. I needed to return, to warn you; dear Celeborn was simply the most appropriate host I could find."
"The unhoused…" muttered Arwen, uneasy, and Aragorn looked unsettled.
"That is close enough a description for me, yes. In the end, the story I have come to tell is about one who you might call 'unhoused'. The greatest of all Ainur, and the most vile and treacherous. The Key is a tool of Morgoth, a creation of his long hidden."
"And what does it do?" Aragorn asked.
"More to the point," added Arwen, "what does it open?"
-------
Thranduil was propped up in bed wearing nothing more than a pair of leggings and a scowl, and bearing a fair number of wounds, a lattice-work of scratches that would probably fade and not add any more scars to his already impressive tally.
"Come to relieve my boredom, Elrondion?"
That was a hint that Thranduil wasn't sure which of the twins he was. "Elrohir at your service, your Majesty. I bear a message from Lord Celeborn." He paused. "You must have been badly injured, Thranduil, if you are still in bed."
"Mind your tongue." But the Elf-king was chuckling. "I had a little argument with an Uruk. Unfortunately, it was immediately followed by a rather more serious argument with a thornbush." He eyed Elrohir. "What is this message, Elrohir, that is so important thatHi you have to interrupt my convalescence with it?"
"A strange and dire one, but grandfather Saw it, and I have no reason to doubt him. Beware the East."
"Strange and unhelpful." Thranduil frowned. "There was nothing more? Celeborn is not the type to trust in such vagaries."
Elrohir shrugged. "He was not specific, but…" He frowned, thinking of his grand-fathers strange behaviour. "I would say that this was important, all the same."
"I will send some small scouting parties eastwards." Thranduil said. "That is the only sensible course of action at this time."
Elrohir bowed low. "Very sensible, your Majesty. I must take my leave though, and continue East – to warn the Men of Dale, and the Dwarves in the Iron Hills and under the Mountain. If you could lend me a horse, I would be most grateful – I do not want to tire my steed out any more than necessary"
Thranduil nodded. "Take your pick from the stables." He grimaced. "I wish you well on your journey – I only wish that I could join you, because if I spend one more moment in this room I think I may go mad."
"I am afraid, Thranduil, that not even for you will I risk your wife's wrath."
"Ai, and I do not blame you for that." Thranduil grinned broadly. "Her fëa burns brightly indeed." he added, fondly.
"Rest well."
"Take care, Elrohir, and may Elbereth guide your steps."