A/N: Bear in mind, this chapter's plotline is still in the 'past'!! Another thing: don't know when the next update will be – rough times at school – but it will come eventually! If you want to be notified when that is, apart from the normal author alerts, you know the scheme! ;p Thanks to everyone who's reading, but especially to those who take the time to leave a review to let us know our work's appreciated!! Anything you can possibly have to say is great to hear!! (wipes sweat and lays dictionary aside)

Lindele: Woo-hoo!!! So very glad you're liking, mellon... Hantal!!

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Chapter IX: The Downfall Of The Wood-elves

The party of elves in charge of the trade conversations in Esgaroth was finally returning home after a week of absence with new company. During that time, the elven lord Althan had been granted powers to perform an alliance with the foreigners by Thranduil, should it be deemed a wise choice, and he had made use of them in the end.

The dread Althan had felt towards these men had dissipated as he got to know more about them and their ways. They came from a land so far away, that he supposed that that feeling surely resulted from an initial clash between the two different cultures, worsened by the fact that they belonged to two distinct races altogether. But now, after several nights talking with each of them, he had gained trust enough to the point of taking them along and show them their home in the forest.

The wood-elves were very much accostumed to having business with other races. Their long alliance to Esgaroth and proximity to the Lonely Mountain was proof enough of it, and so it didn't take long for them to get caught up in friendly talking or story-telling with the men as they rode towards Thranduil's Halls.

These men hailed from a far land southeast of where they were, a land close to the mountains bordering the inner sea of Rhûn. According to them, those grounds were exceptionally fertile and it was that exceedent in producion that had led them to seek out the elves in the first place. From what they'd let out so far, they were closed people and hardly talked about anything that wasn't directly requested of them, typical mountain folk both in aspect and mind, very unlike the comunicative Sylvans who had a story or a song for every occasion. The Rhûnians hadn't let out much about themselves but it had been enough to gain the approval and trust of Althan.

The elf-lord rode next to Hlothran, the leader of the group of about ten men that accompanied them. He was the one to whom Althan had spoken the most and the one who had suggested that they visited Lasgalen in the first place. They had been travelling in casual silence thus far, when Hlothran chose to break it for a question. "Stories about the skill of your people have reached even my land. Is it true what they say, that you can shoot a bird's eye in the dark?"

It wasn't hard for the lord to answer after letting out a small laugh, the flattering tone in the question didn't contribute much otherwise anyway. "I suppose there's something of truth in that legend, but one thing is certain... our archers are the finest in all of Ennor!"

"We even have a saying: «If judge you must, do it with the eyes of a wood-elf»."

"Is that so? Well, I guess it comes from the fact that every wood-elf has some basic training, and it is in the archers that lies the strength of our army." Pride filled his voice and loosened his tongue, and Hlothran did not waste the opportunity that was presenting itself to keep asking more about the Woodland realm.

"Your army? But how can they shoot through the dense forest around? There has to be more to your army than that, right?"

"In a way, yes, but that's also where our strength lies. We have, or rather had in the old days, patrols on several locations to control every inch of the ground. Basically, nothing would go in or out without us knowing."

"You mean you have the entire forest under watch?" He asked, awed at the revelation. The elves' organisation must be quite something to behold.

"Not all, evidently! Lasgalen is enourmous, we merely occupy a small part of it. We watch our domain and the lands close to the borders. But that was only in the old days, when threats could be found anywhere you looked in these woods. The guard is much loosened now."

"Really? In what way?" Althan had some level of trust in this man, but he wasn't nearly blind or stupid to the point of not registering the interest Hlothran was showing towards this unusual matter. What interest could the goings of a foreign army have to a merchant?

"Oh, let us say that it is enough to keep the average individual out of our borders..." Hlothran realised that Althan's talkative mood had passed and ended the conversation with a nod.

By midday that day, the Palace gates presented themselves to the travelling party. After the first presentations to the Elven-king, it had been announced that a feast in honour of the men would be held that very night. The Rhûnians retreated to their appointed rooms for the remainder of the afternoon with an invitation from the Elven-king to feel free to explore the Palace. That left Althan alone with Thranduil to make his full report until nighttime came.

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"Andruin!" Hlothran called out authoritary to one of his men. They had all gathered in his room and while the wood-elves were busy arranging the feast, they would make their own preparations for the night. The man called Andruin came forth in no time.

"Yes lord," the short man quickly replied, standing next to the leader with a strict discipline not usually seen among traders. He was short and muscular, and his skin told much about large amounts of exposure to the sun.

"Andruin... is everything set? Are our men ready in their positions?" He spoke calmly and gravely. The other could not help but to shudder slightly.

"I- I think so." Even as he said the words, he knew his leader would not be pleased. "I gave them your orders, lord."

"You think? I do not need you to think, Andruin! Get out there now and come back when you're sure of it!" Hlothran burst out in a dangerous hiss. The other shuddered a bit more violently but complied. "And while you're at it, I have a mission for your boy... He'll be perfect for it..."

"Yes, lord. Whatever you say, lord." With several nervous bows he brought his son before the man and left hurriedly to fulfill his orders. Andruin's son bore all of his father's traits, both physycal and psychological. He surely had no more than seventeen years of age. Hlothran eyed the lad and smiled, silently summoning another man who handed him a blue phial.

"Son of Andruin, our entire mission depends on what I'm about to ask of you. This feast the wood-elves are having for us, considerably makes our job an easier one. I want you to make use of the good King's offer and go to the cellars to mix the contents of this phial in every wine barrel in the Palace you find for the feast. Simple enough, don't you think?"

The youth stuttered somewhat, but took the phial and answered with eyes cast low nonetheless. "Yes, milord."

"It's very concentrated, so a few drops on each barrel is enough. Do you understand how important this is, son of Andruin?" Hlothran circled the youth and made full use of every inch of extra-height he had, burning holes into the smaller one with the intensity of his stare.

"Y- yes... my lord." Their eyes locked by accident as the lad tried to evade his lord's intimidating gaze and he rapidly lowered his head again, hiding the phial inside his tunic. "I understand."

"Good. Do not fail me, boy. You don't want that to happen, you won't like it, trust me." The slowly spoken words froze the lad on the spot, for he knew exactly what Hlothran was capable of. When the other's attention turned elsewhere, he felt released of that hold and went out of the room.

As he heard the door close, Hlothran lowly spoke out with an evil grin. "The wood-elves' downfall is close and the most ironical thing is they are having a feast to celebrate it..."

Andruin's son wasn't the only one who feared Hlothran. All of them did. The Rhûnians had always been very peaceful, living of what the land gave them and asking for little more from the world around them. For ages, that had been their way of living, but one day came to change everything.

That day had brought with it two cloaked foreigners. They appeared hurt and exhausted and their garments were worn as if they'd been travelling for a long time. Hlothran, their wise and just leader, offered them shelter while they recovered their strength. The three had entered the town center but Hlothran came out a different man. No one knew what had happened during the time when they had been alone, but their lord had somehow been transformed then and that was the whole reason why they were in Lasgalen.

The lad was walking through the strange palace corridors looking for the kitchens or the cellars, but could find none of those places as he'd magnificently managed to get himself utterly lost. His thougts had wandered far too much for him to be able to keep track of all the turns he'd made. And there seemed to be no one in sight to whom he could ask for directions. There wasn't a sound to be heard and that meant those halls were deserted...

"Who are you?" A female voice from behind caught him completely off-guard and he almost jumped three feet in the air.

"I- I... I'm..." Completely caught by surprise, he had the sudden and revolting feeling that the whole world knew of the phial and what he was meant to do with it. He was sure her deep eyes could read his every secret.

"Wait a second, you're one of those men from Rhûn, are you not?" His voice was still caught in a not at his throat, now for more than the original reasons, and he nodded in response. Before him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, with long dark silky braids twined with silver thread. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I was looking for the kitchens..." Considering she was an elf, her beauty was expected, but that didn't make it easier on the lad. He'd never seen something quite like it. His nerves were now pulled tight, since he'd been stressed from that initial uncotrollable surge... why did he still think that she knew what he was up to?

"Oh... If you were hungry, you could have asked one of the servants for food. But if you wait just a little longer, the feast is about to start."

"NO!" She stared at him, not understanding his compromised urgency. "I... I can't wait, I'm not feeling very well, or rather I am, but... I'm really hungry." He said finishing with his eyes shut, not wanting to believe how pathetical that had sounded. Hlothran would have his head, if the wood-elves didn't have it first.

"Well... if you're so desperate, the kitchens are through there." She pointed to an intersecting corridor. "Second door on your left."

"Th- thank you..." he stuttered and made to leave as fast as his legs would take him, but she stopped him before he could go much further.

"Though, you didn't answer my first question, young one." When he looked back at her with non-understanding eyes, she added. "Your name...?"

"Oh... Andril... Andril, son of Andruin..."


TBC...