I wanted to remind everyone that I do not own middle earth. (If this is a shock to you, I beg you to leave now while you still have your dignity.) In this chapter I have used thoughts, exerts, characters and names from the Silmarillion. Just a short note; I'm using the name Morgoth for Melkor simply because the story is "told" by an Elf and they would not use the name Melkor.

Breath of Midnight
Please read and let me know what you think.

Friends and Foes

One word can hold such power
One song so much joy
One thought can inspire many
and one deception
can be made to destroy them all

Since the beginning; since the first chorus was sung into the void, and Iluvatar spoke the universe into existence; ever since that moment there have been those who wish to corrupt and pervert all that had been so lovingly created. It began with Morgoth himself. His inability to submit to the creator, and his desire to forge his own path, took him away from the will of Iluvatar. It rendered him unable to create anything of beauty. He could only take that which already existed, and twist it to suit his own dark purpose. He could not be the creator, so instead he mocked him. He still however longed for the light of Iluvatar, but he could never reach it through his own devices. So he burned with a thirst he could never satisfy. His hatred grew all the stronger; fueling his darkness and pulling him further away from the Flame Imperishable.

What was begun then continues now.

Why is it that Morgoth and those like him hate the children of Iluvatar so much? It is because we can do the one thing that they can not; we create. We were made after the heart of Iluvatar. He has blessed us with the ability to produce art, music and song. Because of this we are capable of an unimaginable joy. We have been given the gift of the light of Iluvatar; the one thing they can no longer possess.

The characters may be different, but the plot is the same. By understanding what has been, we can understand what is now.

In the days of Numenor, Sauron filled Men's hearts with jealousy and contempt for their brothers the Elves. They envied immortality and failed to see the gift that had been given to them. Thus Numenor fell. It has been said history repeats itself. Sauron was defeated long ago, and has now been forgotten by all but those whose memories are still deep. The dignity of the line of Aragorn has now been forgotten. No longer does a true heir of Elendil sit on the throne. Instead there now sits a warmongering steward, who laid claim to the crown through a monstrous civil war. The future of Middle-Earth has been placed in the care of Men, and they will choose the future of us all

Two days of travel; two days of trudging along step by step; the weight of the wounded on my shoulders. Two days closer to the village. Such a journey might have been tiring, but the company of Rose had proved to refresh my every step. She helped pass the time by talking continually, and fooling with my bow. She surprisingly became quite good and jumped at every opportunity to practice her new skill.

"Please don't shoot the arrows anywhere we won't be able to find them. Those are the only ones I have at the moment. Should a worst case scenario occur, and we meet someone who doesn't like us very much, I'd hate to ask them to excuse me while I look for something to shoot at them."

She smiled.

"Why don't we take a rest? You must be tired by now. You can sit down for awhile, put an apple on your head, and I can shoot it off?

(She had become a good shot, but not good enough for me to let her aim in my general direction.)

"Let s not and say we did."

Those two days passed with little more excitement than that. As night prepared to fall, we came to the North eastern edge of Fangorn. We were now less than half a day away from our destination. I laid my cargo down and rested myself on a fallen tree. The young man stirred ever so slightly, but still remained unconscious. His wounds were not healing well despite the stitches, and because of blood loss his fate was still uncertain. Rose kneeled down by the tracker. She attempted to make him more comfortable and brushed his dark brown hair out of his face.

"He's actually rather handsome once you get a good look at him."

It was then that something caught her eye. She lifted up a hand made necklace he was wearing around his neck.

"My Grandfather gave me a necklace just like this. This necklace is that of a farmer. Look, it has a colored bead for each planting season and a string of leather for each harvest. This man can't be a trained solder…he's just some farmer from somewhere within the Mark."

I examined the necklace myself.

"He must have stolen it from a villager, but it still makes little sense."

"No it makes perfect sense. Feaestel, you're a soldier are you not? When heading into battle what do you need to have in order to win."

"More troops and more weapons than your enemy."

"Now imagine that you are Gondor. You're preparing for a war in a strange land; you need a ready supply of disposable soldiers to do the nasty work, and fast. What do you do?"

I nodded my head and grinned. I could see where she was going.

"If I were Gondor, I'd take the eldest boys from the farms and villages. I'd warn them that if they did not fight, I would burn the family farm to the ground. I'm sure the family would be happy to supply us with food to keep their boys safe; after some convincing of course I would have taken down two birds with one stone as you say."

Rose nodded.

That poor kid. Why is it that the young are always forced to fight the battles of the old? I wondered if his family was missing him, and about how long he had been away from home. Rose sat beside me on the tree and handed me a piece of Lembas bread.

"I'm glad we are taking him home now, or at least taking him away from this war. You said this village would be a friendly place… right?

"Yes. At least it was once. Some time ago, the lord of this village decided he was being cheated of his well earned taxes. He set out his men to collect what he felt was due him, and then he ordered them to burn the village to the ground. A carpenter was sent out to seek aid; he got as far as the border of Lorien. I was there at the time, and was sent along with many others to help the village. We fought back the lord and his men, and helped save the peoples homes. They promised us we would always be welcome there as long as the village stood."

"How long ago was that?"

"Not long. Only sixty some odd yeas ago I imagine."

"That's not very encouraging."

Rose slid herself down onto the ground and rested her back against the tree. I lowered myself to the ground and followed her lead by reclining back.

She whispered sleepily;

"This is a beautiful night, is it not?"

I looked up at the sky and saw every star in heaven shining it's brightest. The night air was crisp, and the moon gave a soft silvery light to the world below.

"Do the Elves have names for the stars?"

My memory flooded, and washed me back to a time when I learned my lessons from atop my father's knee. It was there he taught me all about the first born and their love of the stars. He taught me each stars name, and about how I could always find my way home by following their guidance. I pointed each one of them out, and told her the names my father had taught me so long ago.

"… Those stars over there form the Swordsmen of the Sky…If you follow my hand over here you can see the Sickle of the Valar… Oh, and that big shiny orb is called the Moon."

I then told her of the first rising of the moon, and of my ancestors fight against the darkness.

"...Even as the Moon rose above the darkness in the west, Fingolfin let blow his silver trumpets and began his march into Middle-earth..."

She sat next to me looking at the stars and listening to my stories.

(Elves have a love for story telling, and I was proving this fact with vigor.)

"Why don't you tell me a story Rose? Tell me a tale about your people."

She looked down at the ground and over toward the young man. She gently closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"I only really know one… There is a story told of a mighty king of Rohan. His rule was wise and just, but sadly he had no male heir to take the thrown. He was not concerned however, but was very content in his only daughter. She was the apple of his eye. They both shared the same red hair and fiery spirit. The girl's mother was the daughter of a farmer and an Elf maiden. Every night the girl's mother would tell her daughter of the Elves, and their world. She even named her child in her mothers tongue. Things were blissful, and the kingdom rejoiced with him in his happiness. Evil had long ago crept its way into Gondor, but Rohan appeared immune. The king had no worries about the outside world. He contented himself with his people and his family. Such bliss was not to last. One night as the king sat under the stars reading to his daughter, an assassin came and relived him of his crown; along with is head. His daughter was left alone weeping, and holding tight to the book her father had held only seconds before. Because there was no heir, the king's cousin took control of the throne of Rohan. Yet despite all his newly gained power, he still lusted for more. Eight years later a dark woman entered Edoras, and held counsel with the new king. She promised him new lands in Gondor and gold if he aided them in their war against the Elves. She also recommended that In order to strengthen his hold on the throne; the king should marry his cousin's daughter, and dispel any questions as to his authority. The king made his dark allegiance. Rohan opened its borders and lent forces to aid in Gondor's war. Thus the darkness was allowed to enter.

On the night before her wedding the girl disappeared. Gondor sent out their best mercenaries to find her in hopes of securing their new allies power, and their own murderous agenda."

The picture was slowly coming into focus; the story finally was beginning to unfold.

"Let me see… I think I know the rest of this tale. The mercenaries caught up with the girl as she hid in the forest. When they attempted to leave with their prize, they were cut down by a hooded stranger…an elvish stranger?"

"Well I see you already know this story, so I won't bore you with the rest."

"What happened to the girl's mother?"

"She slipped into madness and disappeared. Some say she took her own life, others say she is alive and locked away to insure her silence."

"I'm deeply sorry Rose."

She rolled over onto her side, and turned her back to me.

"Good night Feaestel. I hope the people in that village will still honor their promise. If not, you will just have to keep your hood up, and your mouth shut while we try to get some help. Either way we shall both sleep in warm beds tomorrow… Oh, how I long to sleep in a bed again."

She fell asleep clinging to that thought, and no doubt dreaming of nice feather pillows. I myself was considering joining her, when my weary eyes made up my mind for me. It was then that I did the one thing I should not have done; I fell asleep.

My dreams were dark and foreboding. I saw visions of fire. Everything around me was burning and I was unable to move. I was forced to witness again the death of my Mother and Father. I saw their murderer's red hands join with other bloodied palms in a victory dance over the dead. I saw the tears in my sister's eyes as she carried me home to bed. It was then my dream shifted. I was no longer a child. I had returned to my present self, only now I was trapped in an all consuming darkness. I felt a shadow hovering over me with iron claws and teeth moving to devour me. I called out to the Valar for light, and then sharply awoke.

Now instead of a shadow over me I saw the young man. He had moved, and was now less than three inches away from my face holding a knife in his hand. I sat up and reached for my sword. The man put his finger to his lips, and then pointed behind me into the woods. It was then I heard them. Some thing was moving in an attempt to surround us. The man whispered to me;

"How many do you think are out there?"

I listened carefully.

"I hear exactly six."

I nudged Rose and put my hand over her mouth to keep her quite. I pointed behind us, and motioned for her to slowly lower herself. The three of us lay there; each grasping a weapon; our pulses quickening with the dreaded anticipation of attack.

Moving as one body, the six emerged into our camp site. Each one was indistinguishable from the next. They all wore dark green hooded capes that blended them into the forest. I would have believed them to be Elves, but they whispered to each other in the common tongue. As they approached our position, our tracker friend pulled himself up with great effort, and threw his knife boldly into the leg of one of the six. This caught them off guard, and they became unorganized. Some of them were moving to the aid of their comrade, while others moved towards us at an increased pace; weapons drawn and hoods removed. Rose sat up with my bow and prepaid to take aim. I jumped up and began my own charge. Swords crossed and clashed. I wounded two of them, but Rose never fired off a single shot. I was becoming angry. Why wasn't she shooting? I couldn't hold back six men alone. My sword slashed across the forearm of one man, and I swung back around in hopes of finishing him.

I heard Rose scream;

"Stop! Please stop! You'll kill him!"

I turned my head and saw her in the arms of one of the men. She was not struggling, but rather clung about his waist. I couldn't believe my eyes! She knew these men…she knew them! Had I again been betrayed? Those thoughts and that sight were the last things I saw before I was blindsided from my right side, and fell to the ground unconscious.

What can help us when we are fighting against ourselves? What if the darkness finally consumes? If this world is as it was in my dream, hope is the only thing left that can save us.

To be continued…