Disclaimer:

I own nothing, as you probably know. It all belongs to JRR Tolkien, so please don't sue me.

Author's Note:

I would like to thank these people for their reviews:

Tyrian Woodrose – Thanks. Really? Oops, I'm sorry. I'll change his name right away! Hope you like this chapter.

Lady Pescados – Gosh, thanks! If that wasn't too long, then perhaps this might be? Hope you like this one! And yes, Sirius and Remus are cool! Yeah, that bit was funny. I also like the part when Fred and George call themselves 'Gred and Forge.' That struck me as being funny! Thanks for your reviews!

daughter-of-sunlight – Thanks for your reviews! I hope this one satisfies you too! Yes, I did want the whole idea to be to switch from place to place, although that will stop after some time. I just checked it up, and his name is Erestor … oops …

Well, here's chapter four. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope I haven't spoilt the story so far. Oh, and I made Arwen sad about her father's departure, because … well, it says that she was really close to him, and no matter how happy she is with Aragorn (and I'm sure she is) I'm sure she also misses her father … who wouldn't?

Reviews are most welcome once again!

Enjoy.

Chapter Four: Surprise Attack

The atmosphere surrounding Imladris, or Rivendell as it was known amongst Men that evening was a mixture of one of tension … and sadness. Elves and Men walked down corridors, talking to each other about the news they had just heard.

In Erestor's office, however, the atmosphere was the heaviest with tension. Seated in front of Erestor, were Elessar, Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn. Standing in front of Erestor, were Celeborn, Elladan and Elrohir.

"How is the elf?" asked Elrohir, breaking the silence that had settled in the office.

"He is getting better," said Elladan, as he had been the one that had tended to the injured messenger from East Lórien. Celeborn glared at Erestor.

"I do not care what you have to say, Erestor," he said. "I have to go …" Erestor fought the urge to slam his head, hard, against the wooden surface of his table. Why couldn't people just try and understand what he had to say, before launching themselves into battle?

"I am not asking you to stay away from going to your peoples' aid," he said, controlling his voice. "I am only asking that you listen to what I have to sa – "

"Why are the Orcs attacking now?" asked Elessar, interrupting Erestor. "After all these years of peace and silence, why are they moving out now?"

"That is what I have been trying to get through to you all," said Erestor, gritting his teeth. "Who knows whether this is a trap? Who knows whether the Orcs are merely waiting for aid to come from Imladris?"

"If they are, then it is their own folly," said Celeborn. "I must go to the aid of my people Erestor. Whether you like it or not." The look on Erestor's face was one of pure frustration. As it was, he was trembling slightly – with rage, no doubt.

"Grandfather, perhaps we should all listen to what Restor is trying to say – without interrupting him – and then make our plans," suggested Arwen, quietly. Erestor shot her a grateful smile. At least someone was helping. Celeborn nodded warily at Errestor to continue, a small frown nonetheless remaining on his face.

"It would not be sensible, Lord Celeborn, to send all the elves that we have with us here to aid the elves of East Lórien," said Erestor, his face grave. "If Imladris was to be attacked, then who will defend it? I hardly think that I will be able to defend it by myself." He paused, taking a deep breath. Counseling Elrond hadn't been this bad. "And yet, if we do not send a large force to East Lórien, it will be completely overcome."

"It has probably already been overcome," muttered Celeborn.

"Grandfather, it is not Restor's fault," said Elladan, soothingly. "The messenger only came this afternoon."

"In any case, we cannot set out today," continued Elrohir. "We will need to set out tomorrow, with haste, after coming up with a plan."

"And there are not enough Elves in Imladris to form an army in the first place," added Elessar. Celeborn listened to them, the frown on his face increasing.

"Then what do you three masterminds suggest that we do?" he asked at last. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances with Elessar and Faramir, who nodded slowly.

"Elrohir and I will join whatever force that is heading towards East Lórien," said Elladan. "And Estel and Faramir are willing to come with us." Arwen looked sharply at her husband, just as Éowyn glanced at her husband. "If, of course, their ladies permit it …" added Elladan, hurriedly, as Arwen glared at him. Elessar laughed, as Faramir smiled.

"I will come," he said.

"And so will I," said Faramir, nodding.

"Do you think that three elves and two Men can battle the Orcs that are attacking the woods?" asked Celeborn. "If that was possible, would the elves need our help in the first place?"

"Ah, that is where you are mistaken, grandfather," said Elladan.

"Oh? And how is that?" asked Celeborn.

"The elves of East Lórien … didn't have three elves called Elladan, Elrohir and Celeborn … or two Men called Estel and Faramir …" said Elrohir, his eyes twinkling. Erestor would have groaned aloud, if he didn't know that respectable elves did not make such sounds. To him, it seemed as though the twins were happy … that they would be able to fight Orcs again, like they had done countless times before in revenge for what they did to their mother, Celebrian.

"Very well, but, as Lord Celeborn said, what can five beings do against a lot of Orcs?" he asked.

"We could take the guards that came with us, can we not your majesty?" asked Faramir, looking at Elessar. He nodded.

"Yes," he said. "That will make about … 17 people, including ourselves." Celeborn nodded.

"That sounds reasonable …" he said.

"I can help as well," said Éowyn, suddenly. All eyes turned to her. Faramir shook his head slowly.

"No Éowyn," he said. "You must not."

"Women cannot fight," added Celeborn, resisting the urge to say 'especially mortal women.' He had a feeling that that wouldn't do much to please the Princess of Ithilien.

"Faramir is right Éowyn," said Elessar, shaking his head. "You cannot fight … it is best for you to stay here, safely." Éowyn's eyes narrowed.

"Are you saying, your majesty," she asked. "That I am not capable of helping you? In battle?"

"Nay, I am merely saying that it is safer for you to – "

"And I supposed that it was safe for me to fight and defeat the Witch King of Angmar?" interrupted Éowyn. Elladan and Elrohir glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised. They hadn't known about that … no one had told them that she had slain the Witch King. They moved from their places leaning against the wall.

"Lady Éowyn," said Elladan, smiling at her. "I do not doubt your fighting abilities … yet it is not necessary for you to show them to us now …"

"There will be plenty of other opportunities for you to show us your abilities," continued Elrohir. "So, till that time comes, you should remain behind …"

"And, if that does not please you," added Faramir. "You should keep Arwen company …" He knew that the bond of friendship that had formed in between his wife and Arwen was very strong, and that each would look after the other, like siblings. Éowyn looked at her lap, her brows still knitted together in a semi frown.

Elessar heaved a sigh of relief. He had thought that they would have to resort to desperate measures, such as tying her to a chair or something. Elladan and Elrohir smiled at her. She did have a strong fighting spirit. Although she didn't look like a fearsome warrior, with her golden hair and blue eyes … she looked more like a 'prim and proper' princess.

"Come then, let us get ready," said Elrohir, smiling grimly as he and Elladan walked out of the office.

"Yes, lets," agreed Elessar, standing up. Faramir followed him and Celeborn out of the office. Erestor sighed as the five of them left. He did not know what the outcome of this 'battle' would be … but that did not worry him. He knew that they were capable warriors, and that they could handle anything.

What was bothering him was the sudden movement of the Orcs. He shook his head slightly and turned to the ladies, only to find them glaring at him.

"W – What?" he asked surprised.

"You're just going to let them?" asked Arwen.

"Let them what?" asked Erestor.

"Go into battle?"

"Arwen, they are not infants," he said. "They are adults now, and can handle many situations."

"But – "

"He is right, Arwen," said Éowyn. "Besides, it is good for them to let out a little steam once in a while in this form …" Arwen sighed.

"But … "

"The only thing I want to ask is why I can't go," said Éowyn. Erestor shook his head vehemently.

"We don't send women and children to fight," he said.

"I am no child," said Éowyn. Erestor nodded, mentally kicking himself. How very diplomatic of him to say that …

"Aye, you are not," he said. "Besides, we need someone to help secure Imladris …" Éowyn knew that he was just trying to appease her. Why didn't these Elves understand that the ladies of Rohan were ready to fight at anytime, unlike other women?

"If I may take my leave, Arwen, Éowyn," said Erestor, standing up, his face grim.

"Where are you going?" asked Arwen.

"I have to see for the preparations … it has always been my job to see to these things," said Erestor, smiling at them once more before walking out of the office. Arwen and Éowyn sat where they were, lost in their different thoughts.

"Éowyn, shall I show you around Imladris?" asked Arwen, suddenly. Éowyn nodded, looking happier.

"I would like that very much," she said. They stood up.

"We'll go and get Eldarion from the maids, and then get going," said Arwen, as they too walked out of the office.

Meanwhile:

"Why are you making such haste, lad? Is it not too fast? The speed of this horse?" asked Gimli, as he clung onto Legolas for dear life. Legolas shook his head.

"Are you scared, Master Dwarf?" he asked.

"Scared? Scared?" echoed Gimli. "Yes, I am scared on the back of a horse that is moving as though his life depended on it."

"Who knows, the situation might be what you say it is," whispered Legolas, more to himself than to Gimli. "And, in any case, horses don't just move, they gallop."

"I don't care!" retorted Gimli. "Dwarves weren't built to ride horses!" Legolas sighed, looking around the bare land that was ahead of them. Something was wrong … he could feel it in his veins. They had left Ithilien five days after Elessar, Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn had left, heading for Imladris. He had been told to come there, once he had finished his work. A cool breeze blew across the bare lands.

The plan had been to meet up with the remaining elves in Imladris, and then head for the shire. There, the six remaining members of the Fellowship would be reunited, and could enjoy themselves, talking about the 'old times.' The Hobbits, of course, knew nothing of this plan. They were planning on surprising them.

Riding with a company of twelve other elves, who had wished to visit Imladris once more and five dwarves, riding at great speed, Legolas and the rest of the party had departed from Edoras the day before, and they were now riding at great haste, to make it to Imladris. Six of the elves, including him, had a dwarf sharing their horse with them. Dwarves were scared of riding …

Why? Legolas and the other elves sensed something was drawing near. Legolas, especially, could sense it. Something about the bare stretch of land ahead of him made him feel uneasy.

He hadn't felt this way for sometime now … and this didn't please him in the least. They were riding through the Dunlands now, taking path Ithilien to Edoras, through the Dunlands, through Eregion, and finally to Rivendell. Elessar and the others had probably taken an alternative path, as Legolas couldn't find any trace of their travel anywhere.

"Something is lurking nearby Lord Legolas," said an elf called Dínlos, slowing his horse slightly. Legolas nodded as he looked around again, his keen eyes scanning in vain for any sign that would tell him what was going on.

"What is it?" asked Gimli. "What is it? Do you see something? Is it an enemy? Let them come then!" Legolas smiled resignedly.

"You sound pleased at the thought of it being an enemy," he said.

"Of course! I haven't killed someone in … in eight years!" said Gimli. Dínlos laughed.

"Then let us hope that you do not kill one of us, to appease the hunger for death," he said. As Gimli opened his mouth to answer, Arod, the horse he and Legolas were riding, stopped galloping. The elves stopped as one, alert. The darkening sky made it difficult to spot anything. Looking to his right, where the mountains separating Fangorn Forest from the Dunlands, Legolas saw the reason for Arod's uneasiness … as well as his own.

"Do not move, or look around," he said, softly. His men listened to him, confused. "Hiding in the mountains to our right, are many Orcs … around 25 from what I can see …"

"Orcs?" asked Dínlos. "Here? Now?"

"Let them come!" said Gimli, reaching for his axe that was strapped on to his back. The other dwarves did the same.

"No Gimli!" said Legolas, sharply. "We must not let them know that we have spotted them."

"Why not?" asked Gimli.

"They'll kill us whether or not we move," added Morras, a somewhat sinister looking dwarf Gimli had brought with him.

"We must find out what they are doing here, before we kill them," said Legolas, his fair face troubled. "Is it not unusual for them to be making a move, or showing themselves after eight years of silence?"

"This, on one hand, is good news," said Camdín, an elf that was originally from Mirkwood, who was especially skilled with the spear. "We have at least realized that we should not take the Orcs' quietness for granted …"

"But that – "

"And it is bad news, as it makes you wonder why they're attacking now …" said Camdín, interrupting Gimli. Dínlos nodded.

"You are right," he said. "Lord Legolas?" Legolas seemed to be facing forward, scanning the bare land ahead of him, but in truth, his eyes, out of the corner of their sockets, were watching the Orcs. He frowned. They were beginning to move out of their hiding places.

Why were they doing that? He had thought that they were perhaps afraid to face thirteen elves and six dwarves in battle. Why had they suddenly gathered their courage to –

His face paled. He knew why. Before he heard the other host of Orcs heading towards them from behind, he guessed what was going to happen.

"Lord Legolas? What do we do now?"

"Easy," said Gimli, surprisingly jumping off Arod and drawing his axe. "We fight." Legolas sighed. Gimli was right … they had to fight … but they wouldn't be able to find out the Orcs purpose …

"Legolas?" asked Camdín. "If you want to reach Rivendell alive … I suggest you get off that horse and get ready." Legolas nodded, jumping lightly off his horse and joining the dwarves and other elves. The Elves sent their horses away, until the battle was over and they could call them back.

It began in the blink of an eye. The Orcs attacked from two places – from the front, and from the mountains. Legolas ducked as an Orc arrow whizzed towards his head. The Orc growled in rage and began to fit another arrow into his bow, when an elvish arrow from Legolas went through his chest. He looked down at the arrow going through his body bemused almost as though it was asking itself 'now where did this come from?' before it fell down, dead.

Camdín ran his spear through three Orcs, who, rather stupidly, came to attack him one after the other. He yanked his spear out of them, looking at their dead bodies in disgust. And to think that they had once been elves, tortured by Melkor … His attention was diverted when he saw Dínlos struggling to fight two Orcs, whilst keeping two others from shooting arrows at him. He dived in front of him and killed off the Orcs with the bows and arrows.

Dínlos did the rest, cutting of the other two creatures' heads with his sword. "Thanks …" he said, breathing heavily.

"Anytime," said Camdín, grinning.

"Take that!" cried Gimli, hewing an Orc almost in half. "And that! And that!" he said to two other Orcs.

"I regret to inform you that Orcs do not understand anything we say, so it is best to not waste our energy by talking to them," said Legolas, shooting continuously at the Orcs that were still fighting with everyone.

"It was worth a try," said Gimli, shrugging. "And you, take this!"

Morras looked at the corpses of dead Orcs lying lifeless around him, before looking back at the others. There were still a reasonable amount of Orcs left to finish off …

Grinning at the happy thought of fighting after a long time, he threw himself into the path of a group of seven, running Orcs. His axe sang in delight as he fought on, under the gradually darkening sky.

In Rivendell:

Arwen glanced at the empty spot on the bed beside her. Elessar still hadn't come to sleep. She knew, that before any major battle, warriors needed to have a council together, going over battle plans … but still … this was taking it too far. It was already quite late in the night. Glancing to her right, she saw Eldarion sleeping peacefully beside her, his head resting on her pillow, and his thumb in his mouth.

A tuft of jet black hair was slowly growing on his head … showing his strong resemblance to his mother. She stroked his head affectionately, once again wondered … what her family would have had to say about him …

She sighed. She got off the bed gently, so as not to wake Eldarion up, and, taking two extra pillows from the cupboard on her left, she placed them around her son, incase he tried to move and fell off the bed. Making sure he was comfortable and safe, she walked out of her room. The corridors were dimly lit by lanterns, holding fading candles in them, and cast somewhat eerie shadows down the corridors.

Looking to her right, she saw that no one was there. Looking back once more at Eldarion, she moved in the opposite direction, slowly. It would not do if someone were to see her …

She stopped outside her destination, an apprehensive expression on her face. The office was dark and the only light entering it was the starlight that entered the office through the open windows and archways. Taking two candles from a lantern nearby, she entered the room and headed straight for the lantern that was on her left. Placing one candle there, and the other one on another lantern, she stepped away, allowing a little more light to enter the room.

The office looked the same as it did when its user had been there … the bookshelves were full of books, arranged neatly, and kept in good condition. The paintings and murals on the walls were also being preserved well. She moved towards the desk standing in the middle of the room. There was nothing on it, except for the paperweights, half empty bottles of ink, and two quills.

She moved behind the desk and pulled the chair out, sitting on it. She closed her eyes as memories of how he used to sit on the chair and keep her on his lap flooded her mind. She shook her head, opening her eyes. She spotted the drawers on the right side of the desk, and stretched an arm out to open them, before pausing.

She shouldn't look through his things … Even though he was gone it wasn't nice to look through his things.

Looking ahead of her, she saw the arch shaped window, through which she could see small stars twinkling. Looking to her right, another similar shaped window showed a very bright star, glimmering in the dark skies.

Ëarendil … that was her grandfather, from her father's side, sailing the skies on his ship Vingilot … guarding the skies against darkness. As she gazed through the window, she saw the face of a dark haired elf. His deep blue eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. A circlet of gold, with a single red stone surrounded his head.

She stared at the 'image' in the skies, wanting it to stay there for ever. "… Ada …" she whispered softly. The elf smiled at her, his eyes twinkling more. She half smiled at it too. "Ada … I hope you are well …" The 'face' still continued to smile at her. Her smile faltered slightly. "Ada, you probably know this … but I have a son … Eldarion we called him … and I think … I think he will look like me when he is older …"

Erestor stopped by the door, a stricken expression on his face as he listened. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he had seen the light in Elrond's office as he walked down the corridor to his own chambers, and had peeked inside to see who it was.

He had spotted Arwen … talking to … talking to Elrond …

He guessed that, even though she loved Estel, a father was someone that never came again to the world. When her mother had left to the Undying Lands, Arwen hadn't been this sad, although that was mainly because she thought that she had to be strong for her father's sake …

And now …

"Are … are you happy, Ada? About Eldarion?" asked Arwen, smiling at the face she 'saw' in the sky. "Estel is very happy … I think he has always been waiting for the day he would become a father …" her smile widened. "And Elladan and Elrohir, they said that they cannot wait to teach him to play jokes on people and – "

Arwen broke off as she saw the face shimmer suddenly. A feeling of despair hit her from nowhere as she saw the face begin to fade. "Ada! Ada no – don't leave! Ada please – " She rushed to the wide window. " – Don't leave me … Ada …" She stared despairingly at the dark night sky, with Ëarendil twinkling brightly in it.

Her 'father' was nowhere in sight. Arwen sank slowly to her knees, as she felt a lump rise in her throat. For the first time since she had made her choice to forsake her immortality, leaning her head against the low window sill, she cried freely into the silent night.

Erestor watched her cry, her quiet sobs reaching his ears. He sighed, slightly confused. Did she … regret her choice? He shook his head hurriedly. No, that couldn't be. She had always wanted to remain with Elessar …

He looked at her trembling figure once more, before lowering his head. There was nothing he could do here … she needed to be on her own for now … His face saddened, he turned around and walked quietly away, quenching the light of the two candles at the doorway with his hand, so that, if Elessar were to pass this way, he would not see her crying and get emotionally hurt about it.

His head heavy with thoughts about the battle, for which he had made preparations for seven of the thirteen other elves in Imladris to join, and with thoughts about the possibility and cause of Arwen's grief, he walked away heading for his chambers.

"Sérë olá, Arwen …" (Peaceful dreams)

Meanwhile, in the Dunlands:

"Legolas!"

" – Yes?"

"How many more are there?"

" … Around twelve, Camdín – "

"Legolas? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Since you elves seem to think of everything couldn't you have brought along some torches?"

"Since you dwarves seem to do your work in the dark, should you not be used to it?"

"I am beginning to lose my patience …"

"Patience, Morras, this will be over soon." Legolas ducked as a particularly ugly Orc made a sweep at his head with his sword. "Please refrain from doing that … at least ten of your companions have tried that, but my head is still attached to my head," he said, slicing the Orc's head off its neck neatly with his two elvish blades. He had, as was expected, run out of arrows to use, and had resorted to his twin blades.

"It is quite dark, isn't it?"

"Really? I wouldn't have known, Dínlos."

"I was just trying to lighten things up."

" – Dínlos? – "

"Yes?"

"Do us a favour, and never try to lighten things up in the middle of a battle again, okay?"

" … Fine." Dínlos stabbed an Orc in the chest before drawing his sword out of it and slicing it in half. He felt a warm liquid spray all over him, and shuddered. He hated to see what he would look like. Well, he would get the chance, when the sun rose. And it would help greatly if it rose now.

"Gimli?"

" – Take this! Yes?"

"You are killing Orcs, and not elves, right?"

" – Take that! And that! Ooh … you stubborn creature … take this!" Legolas sighed as he wiped his face with his hand and grimaced as he felt a warm liquid on his face. Great, he had Orc blood smeared across his face. This battle, despite what he had told Morras, was beginning to make him lose his patience. The starlight was the only light that allowed them to see their enemies with, and even then, it was a small amount of starlight. It was a good thing that dwarves were generally fatter than Orcs, or a few dwarves might have accidentally been killed.

Camdín killed the last Orc that was heading towards him and looked around. The other elves were nearby, looking around as well, along with the dwarves. He saw Legolas still fighting with two Orcs.

"Legolas, you need any help?"

"No - thanks … is this all?"

"Yes." Legolas killed one of the Orcs and turned to the last one who made a move for his head again. Knocking the sword out of the creature's hand, Legolas grabbed it by the neck and pressed his sword against it, looking at what he thought was the creature's black face and trying to take no notice of its putrid stench. The Orc writhed, trying to escape his grasp.

"Tell me, why did you attack us?" asked Legolas, a dangerous edge entering his voice. The Orc said nothing, causing Legolas to dig his sword deeper into the thing's neck. It writhed in pain. "Answer me!"

" – We don't … like you Elves …" said the Orc hoarsely. Legolas tightened his grip on his neck.

"That wasn't a proper reason," he said. "Why attack now, after all these years? Ever since your master was killed you 'disappeared.' Why make an appearance again?" The Orc sneered at him in the dark, somewhat infuriating the blond elf.

"M – Master?" it sneered. "He wasn't … our – real master … our real master is returning … and we will serve him." With that, he thrust his neck forward, towards the blade that was already digging into it. He died immediately. Legolas dropped him on the ground, a troubled expression on his face.

Sauron wasn't their … real master?

Their real master … was returning?

"Finally, I thought this would never come to an end."

"Hey! That's my foot you're sitting on Morras!"

"Sorry Dínlos – it is Dínlos right?" Camdín caught sight of Legolas' tense posture, and walked up to the son of his King.

"Something wrong, Legolas?" he asked. Legolas shook his head slowly, though, if there had been more light, Camdín would have seen his troubled blue eyes.

"No …" he said, after a while. "Come, let us gather our horses and move away from here and come back tomorrow morning and dispose of these corpses …"

"As you wish," said Camdín.

"Is everyone okay? Is anyone injured?" asked Legolas, walking around.

"We're fine," said Morras. "Just one or two injuries – not life threatening."

"What I want to know is why they attacked us …" said Dínlos. Camdín, who was staring after Legolas, saw the young Prince stiffen, and he glared in Dínlos' direction.

"Will you stop talking if you cannot say anything that will help, Dínlos?" he asked.

"Fine," said Dínlos, rather hurt.

"Enough dawdling," said Legolas. "Let us get our horses and set up camp away from here …" The elves and dwarves moved away, with the elves whistling in the night, calling their horses back to them.

That night, from his spot seated with his back against a boulder of rock, Legolas' mind was not at ease. The more he thought of what the Orc said, the more it troubled him.

Who was the Orc talking about when he said 'his real master' was returning? Especially if he wasn't referring to Sauron.

The thought struck him hard. Could it have been referring to the one that created them? His blue eyes gazed at Ëarendil, troubled. If it was indeed the one that created them … then it would have to be …

… The one that had dwelt in the Pits of Utumno and later in the Fortresses of Angband.

And he knew that that guy … wasn't very nice.

Author's note:

Well???????

Was it interesting? I realized that I had put the genre for this story as 'action/adventure/humour' and that this didn't have much 'action' in it, so I included the battle, together with a slight bit of humour. I hope it worked.

Anyway, see you next time. I would love to hear any suggestions (criticisms, opinions, advice) as long as it is nothing cruel or harsh. J

Till next time

Siriusgirl1