"I wish I'd paid more attention when she spoke to them," Dareklien muttered as he looked at the pacing wolves in concern.

"I know what you mean," Ertelen muttered back. The elves had been growing more worried as the days passed without any sign the elves could determine from the north.

Legolas sighed and shook his head. "If it were bad news, they would have split up, some going to help. They just wish they could. That's all."

"When did you get to be such an expert on wolves?" Dareklien asked in annoyance.

Legolas smiled faintly, absently closing his hands into fists, running his fingers over the slight remaining marks on his palms.

"Are we really just going to sit here while she's off battling spiders alone?"

"Hardly alone, Ertelen," Legolas murmured softly. "She takes two armies with her."

"Hardly armies, Legolas," Ertelen scoffed. "A few dozen wolves and spiders against an unknown mass!"

"Spiders?" Eirthriel asked in confusion. She turned a frowning glance on Legolas. "It seems there is much you haven't told me."

He smiled slightly and looked up as Argile circled over them. "I wonder what he's after," he mused. He left the big flet and climbed quickly up to Nenya's flet. "What is it, Argile?" he asked softly. The bird said nothing, just stared at him for a moment before flying off again. Soon he circled back, tilted his head at Legolas, and then flew away again, not returning, though Legolas waited for a while.

When he went down to the big flet, it was to find two elves readying themselves for war. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to help. Even if we just kill a few spiders, that's a few she won't have to kill by herself." Dareklien glared at Legolas. "I don't know what she told you, what she said, but I've hunted spiders before, and I've only gotten better being here. There have been attacks. We know it, even if she's no longer here to tell us. You can feel it, the darkness growing, just as we can… perhaps better. It creeps in here, with her gone. We're going to help."

Miranol and Oleydya looked at each other, and then to him for direction. They weren't warriors. The weren't hunters. But they were Nenya's friends as well, and wanted to know what to do.

Still, she had warned him away. He didn't understand why, which worried him more than anything. If he only knew why, he could decide what to do with a modicum of intelligence. But he didn't know why.

It burned him to remain here, when she could need their help, or could already be injured. He had thought about that hundreds of times in the last few weeks. They didn't know if she was alive.

Somehow, he knew she was alive, that something would change if she died, but he didn't know how long she could stay that way living away from everything she knew, away from her flets, away from her waybread.

Slowly he nodded. "You're right."

Miranol and Oleydya began to prepare.

He held up a hand and lifted a brow. "You think you're going somewhere?"

"With you… right?"

He shook his head. "Not a chance. Before this began you two had only the very basics—if that—of weaponry down. You have little more now."

"We know spiders."

"As do we. Small numbers can hide better, can get out with less chance of being seen. Besides, Nenya risked a lot to get Eirthriel out of the palace, and someone needs to remain to assure her safety, should the spiders turn to revenge."

"She did?" Eirthriel asked with a frown. "What? Why?"

Legolas sighed. "She risked her friends, and the time she could have used to head north."

Miranol frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then shouldn't you use everything at your disposal to help her now?"

Legolas frowned at him, quirking one brow. "I'm listening."

"Take a look," Miranol murmured, leading hem over to the billows he'd set up when they first arrived.

After a brief demonstration of Miranol's device, Legolas nodded and sent Miranol to prepare, while instructing Oleydya on how to help them as she wrung her hands and bit her lip, obviously trying to think of some reason for her to come along. Thankfully she was unable to think of one.

He shouldered his bow, his quiver and his knives, picking up his sword, moving to his sister while trying to ignore the emotional goodbye occurring not far away. "Keep this with you at all times, Eirthriel. Be careful, and don't leave the flets until we come back for you." He paused for a moment. "Only one who has been here will come back, my sister. No one else, even if you believe them worthy of your trust."

"I still think you're paranoid," she whispered softly, standing on her tiptoes to reach his forehead for a kiss. "But good luck."