Hi again! Finally banged out another chapter. Hope you like. I got a pretty good response for the first chapter. I want to apologize to the one reviewer that mentioned the what will forever hereafter be known as the 'Gimlet' incident! For whatever the reason, the night I posted it, my spell check was being temperamental and decided to change Gimli to Gimlet… Yeah, I don't see any similarity either, but that's technology for ya! Anyway, I think I got it all squared away so enjoy.

Disclaimer: Legolas and all other characters are not mine… *sob*

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A gray, early morning light filtered through the far window of the darkened room. The sky outside lay overcast and gloomy, threatening a chilly spring shower. Inside the grand palace of Rivendell, a still quietness pervaded one of it's many guest chambers, as if any of its occupants dared not speak. Gathered close around the large bed that stood against the far wall of the room, Aragorn, Gandalf, Arwen, Gimli, and four little Hobbits huddled together at their stricken friend's side, hoping beyond all hope for a miracle.

Legolas lay motionless, wrapped in layers of soft sheets with his long blond hair fanned out on the pillow beneath his head. His face was still a ghostly pale shade, but he now seemed able to breath easier. The medicines given to him by Elrond and Gandalf throughout the long and wearying night had seemed to have finally taken some effect. A slight fever still warmed his forehead but the elf seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He barely stirred as Arwen placed a cool, damp cloth across his brow.

Sometime before the first dim glow of morning had warmed the horizon, the group had carried the poisoned elf to a guest room in the palace near Lord Elrond's should his knowledge of medicine and healing be needed again. Throughout the rest of the long and lonely night, they had stayed by Legolas' side faithfully, unable to tear themselves away from their fatally ill companion.

During that time, the accursed dagger that had struck down the youthful elf had been brought to Lord Elrond. The timeless elf-king had pondered the blade thoughtfully with Gandalf for some time before leaving to study the dagger in his chambers alone. When he had left, the others there swore they sensed something ominous in the air by the way Elrond eyed the dagger; as if he sensed something evil brooding in the ornamented weapon and cringed at the touch of it. That had been hours ago and the day was now nearing the ninth hour of the morning, but still there had been no word from him.

Near Legolas' head, Gimli sat hunched in his chair, staring blankly down at the polished floorboards, thousands of miles away lost in thought. It seemed to the rest of the group he had aged several decades since the night before, being completely undone by Legolas' poisoning. The dwarf said little and never strayed far from the elf's side. In his eyes shined the unmistakable torture of guilt and grief.

"How long do you think he has?" Sam suddenly squeaked in a soft and timid voice from a chair near the foot of Legolas' bed beside Frodo, as if frightened to break the silent vigil but unable to keep the weighty question unspoken any longer. The others looked to the Hobbit slowly, emotionally exhausted expressions chiseled onto their weary faces.

"It is hard to foresee," Gandalf answered grimly, tugging at the bottom of his long white beard thoughtfully, "Legolas is strong, but the poison is stronger. I can make no estimate on the length of his suffering."

"Is there nothing we can do for him?" Aragorn cried in frustration, standing straight from where he leaned against the window frame nearby, "If Legolas dies, the northern Elves will wage war on the Dwarfs. King Thranduil has many alliances with other Elf clans who would easily be swayed to march against the Dwarfs. And the Dwarves are no helpless race. They would go to meet the Elves in battle and fight with unimaginable brutality. Middle-earth is still recovering from the War only two years ago. It could not survive an open war between Elves and Dwarfs."

"I share your fears, Aragorn, but there is little you, I, or Lord Elrond can do," Gandalf replied as he hung his head against his chest in defeat, "There is no magic or medicine I know of that can cure him."

"This is all my fault," broke a low voice. Looking to its origin, the group saw Gimli raise his head for the first time in hours. Shaking his stout little head from side to side slowly, he murmured despairingly, "It's all my fault. What that elf, Toreingal, said before was true. I did urge Legolas to examine the blade. If I hadn't, none of this would have happened. If I had known there was anything foul on that blade, I would have cast it into the darkest pit of my father's mine. I should have never given Legolas that dagger. If I had only known…" Here the miner trailed off, choking back the grief and guilt that threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes as he looked down upon the pale face of the sedate elf laying beside him.

"Gimli," Frodo hushed with a gentle hand on the dwarf's shoulder, "There was no way of you knowing there was poison on that knife. You have no fault in what happened."

"Frodo is right, you know," Gandalf assured.

Gimli looked to the Men, Hobbits, and female elf that nodded to him in agreement, but found no such forgiveness for himself as they did him. He could already feel the weight of Legolas' death hanging over his head, along with the deaths of all other Dwarfs and Elves that would result from his ill-fated gift. Gimli felt as though he were in quicksand; slowly being swallowed alive with no way of escaping. And it was all his fault… Quiet descended on the guest chamber of Lord Elrond's palace as the dwarf hung his head and turned his sorrows in on himself again.

Suddenly there came the soft click of a door being opened. Startled by this new sound, those in the room turned toward the only entrance of the sparsely decorated guest chamber. As the delicately carved door swung outwards into the hallway beyond, the face of Legolas' cousin, Toreingal, came into view as he stepped over the threshold without a sound from beneath his light boots on the floorboards; such being the grace and stealth of all the Eldar. Looking towards the bed, the elf's face did a momentary startle as he noticed the many faces staring back at him.

Quickly recovering from his initial surprise, Toreingal said in a tight voice, barely masking his distrust towards the group, save for perhaps Arwen, "I was not expecting to find so many at my cousin's side."

"We were not about to abandon our friend in his hour of need," Aragorn replied, returning Toreingal's hostile tone.

The elf's gray eyes narrowed to slits at the Ranger's words, staring daggers at the Man who dared imply any notion of him abandoning his dying cousin. But before he could return any barbed comment, Toreingal noticed a stout figure sitting in the gray shadows of the room close beside Legolas' bed.

"What is he doing there at my cousin's side!?" the elf exploded, straying his hand to his side where his dagger was sheathed, "I should slit that dwarf's throat for his treachery and betrayal of Legolas' trust! It is because of him I must watch my cousin slowly slip away to the Halls of Mandos!"

"Toreingal," Gandalf spoke calmly, but with force behind his words, "Gimli had no hand in the poison that tainted that dagger. He is innocent of all your accusations. Lord Elrond is investigating this matter as we speak to find the truth. We will find who did this."

The fair elf snorted in disgust at this and scoffed, "So this dwarf has the great Gandalf the White under his pudgy little finger too. I will tell you the truth of this matter, old man: he plotted to kill Legolas and has thrown a blanket over everyone's eyes but mine! I see him plainly for the deceitful little murderer he is."

Gimli said and did nothing at this. The dwarf merely sat like a cold stone statue in his chair staring at the floor with a distant look in his dark eyes as the elf battered his ears with hate filled accusations. And in his heart, Gimli began to wonder the truth of Toreingal's words…

"Stop this!" Aragorn ordered forcefully, coming to place himself in front of Gimli as if to shield the dwarf from anymore of Toreingal's abuse, "Cannot you see past your own nose?" he demanded from the angered elf. Fire blazed in Toreingal's pale gray eyes as Aragorn continued undaunted, "You accuse Gimli, of poisoning the blade that struck down Legolas, but have you ever considered the point Lord Elrond made last night that this poison can no longer be made? How could Gimli have poisoned Legolas if there was no way of him obtaining the plant needed to brew it?"

Twisting his face up in obstinance, Toreingal opened his mouth to answer the Ranger, but was cut off suddenly by another whose strong voice commanded all attention in the room. "From what I have found, simple poison would be a blessing."

Standing there in the doorway of the room, Lord Elrond stood clutching the bluish silver dagger whose poisoned blade had numbered Legolas' days. Slowly stepping across the threshold with his pale green and silver robes gently whistling above the wooden floor, the elf-king moved silently into the room with his dark eyes turned towards the ground. Elrond's ageless face now seemed taught and weary, as if he bore a great burden on his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Aragorn asked worriedly from the grim look in his foster-father's dark brown eyes.

"Father, what is it?" Arwen joined in softly, concern tainting her voice.

The elegant king stood for a moment staring down at Legolas' still form on the nearby bed as he slowly brought the moonlight colored dagger up to hold before him. Breathing in a tight breath of air, Elrond said grimly, "It was not as I thought. There is no poison upon this knife's edge."

Perplexed glances were exchanged at this revelation from those gathered at Legolas' side. "How can that be?" the wizard wondered out loud as he shifted his long white staff from one hand to the other nervously.

Elrond replied in a grave tone, "Instead of Ghostslip, which I had first thought it was, the whole blade rather is tainted with evil. Anyone who is cut or pierced by this knife is doomed to die."

Tense silence hung in the room as thick as fog as the half-elf continued in a low voice, "When I first touched it, even through its scabbard, I could feel something darker then mere poison within. From the ancient dwarfish runes etched into its blade, I have deciphered the name of it's original master: the dwarf Rungal."

"That was one of my ancestors," Gimli broke in, finally choosing his moment to speak "He forged the dagger himself and that was how it came into my family."

"You are correct, Master Dwarf," Lord Elrond confirmed with a nod of his head in Gimli's direction and riddled enigmatically, "But I doubt you know the reason of its forging." Gimli said nothing as the elf explained, "In my research of the name Rungal, I have uncovered a forgotten chapter in our world's history which should never have been forgotten. Three thousand years ago in the Second Age, Middle-earth was plagued by an evil sorceress named Eronel-"

"Wait!" Toreingal broke in suddenly with great surprise, "That is an elven name!"

"It is," Elrond affirmed again with a saddened tone, "Eronel was of the our race; one of the Eldar, a Sindar like you, Toreingal, and Legolas. But she was tempted and fell into dark magic. She was corrupted by power and greed and became tainted by evil. She killed anyone who stood against her and covered much of the northern lands in darkness, fire, and fear."

"How terrible…" Frodo muttered quietly, remembering the same terror he had seen and suffered only several years before during his long and weary quest to destroy the ring of power.

"It was, Frodo," Elrond commented to the small Hobbit, "But Eronel was defeated by a contingent of Elves and Dwarves who had banded together to rid Middle-earth of her evil. After many long and bloody battles, the magic of the Elves and force of the Dwarves finally wounded and drove back Eronel into a dark cave hidden in the Misty Mountains where they sealed her inside for all eternity."

"But what does this dark witch Eronel have anything to do with this dagger?" Arwen questioned from Legolas' bedside.

Elrond bowed his head, for he had come to the part that effected them most. Gathering his will, the he said, "Gimli's ancestor, Rungal, was one of the those who had fought against Eronel. He was the one who wounded the sorceress and forced her into the cave where she was sealed. But it seems Eronel's evil had gone deeper then what was first imagined. The evil and darkness that had consumed her soul had also spoiled her very body. When she was wounded on the edge of this blade, she in turn tainted the dwarf's sword with the dark poison that ran through her flesh. After Eronel's defeat, the Elves and Dwarves went their separate ways and the tainted dagger fell out of use and memory and became only a family heirloom until it came to pass into Gimli's hands…"

An uneasy quietness followed as each of those there fell into silence and thought. But then, a weak voice sounded, like fall leaves being carried away on the winds, "Then I am doomed to fall into darkness…"

Startled, the group looked to the large bed where the voice had been issued. There, laying with his deep blue eyes cracked open a bit, the elf Legolas stared up at his friends. Whether the elf had no intention or no strength to, he did not try to rise and sit. Converging on him like vultures on a dead animal, those crowded together in the room sprang to huddle around the large bed.

"Legolas! Thank the Valar you're awake!" Aragorn cried as he hurried to his companion's side and took the elf's cold hand into his own. A mixture of relief and concern stormed across his weatherworn face. "We feared we would never hear your voice again. How do you feel?"

"Tired," the warrior admitted groggily, trying to blink his bleary eyes into focus on the faces hovering over him.

"I hate to say it, but you look terrible," Aragorn then took the opportunity to say as he pushed some of Legolas' sweat-matted hair away from clammy face and readjusted the wet cloth on the elf's forehead.

The poisoned warrior let a small, weary smile grace his face at their little inside joke, but the expression was fleeting and quickly fell away to exhaustion. Obviously struggling to keep his already barely open eyelids from sliding completely shut, Legolas weakly turned his head to acknowledge his cousin as the other Mirkwood elf forcefully pushed his way through the four Hobbits that huddled together beside the bed.

Bending over Legolas' body, Toreingal asked in surprising gentleness, "How long have you been awake? How many of Lord Elrond's words did you hear?"

Legolas said nothing for a moment before answering softly in despair, "Enough to know there is no hope for me…"

Toreingal's face hardened at these words. "Fear not cousin. You will not go unavenged. I have sent word of your plight to you father, King Thranduil, in Mirkwood early this morning. I dare gamble that he is already gathering his armies to march out towards the Dwarf mines nestled in the Lonely Mountains to seek revenge. The Dwarves will suffer for their plot to kill you. I know that deceitful little miner purposely gave you that dagger knowing full well what evil it held."

Legolas looked at his kin for a moment, horror shining in his eyes as he struggled to find words. His stomach clenched into a knot at his cousin's words. A cold shiver of fear sliced down his spine as he tried to decide if he wasn't really in the grips of some terrible nightmare conjured up by the poison that flowed through his body.

"You did what?" he finally rasped, looking at Toreingal with disbelief, "Gimli would do no such thing. The Dwarves have done nothing to have war declared against them." Looking to the dwarf who sat close beside his bed in silence, Legolas saw a sorrowful shadow fall over his friend's face, as if Gimli himself was not so sure of his own innocence.

Looking down at Legolas for a long moment, Toreingal finally assessed with a grim frown, "You are not well, cousin. You are still in the grips of a terrible fever. You do not understand these things in your delirium. I have already sent a carrier pigeon out in the direction of Mirkwood. Your betrayal will not go unavenged."

Before Legolas could form any words in his parched throat to defend his sanity, Lord Elrond broke into the conversation and said, "Before you plan for war, Toreingal, you should know there still may be salvation for Legolas. All hope is not lost."

All eyes in the room snapped towards the tall, dark elf who stood on the outer circle of those gathered around the poisoned archer. "Have you discovered a means of curing Legolas?" Gandalf questioned hopefully.

"Perhaps," the elf-king muttered with hesitation in his voice, "The witch that tainted this blade is sealed in a mountain cave hidden from view by a small waterfall that flows over its entrance and then into a shallow pond. The Elves that sealed Eronel in the cave enchanted the water to imprison her inside. It is possible that the enchanted water that was used to drive Eronel's evil into the dark recesses of the cave may also be used to break the poison and drive her evil from Legolas' body."

Hope rose in the group as Elrond finished. War may yet be diverted. Legolas may still be saved.

"Such a thing may work…" the white wizard mumbled to himself, pulling on his beard thoughtfully, slowly pacing along the foot of the bed.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get some of this magic water!" Pippin exclaimed in his excitement, not considering any of the preparations that would need to be made before any such quest could be undertaken.

"Thing's are not so simple, my little Hobbit," Lord Elrond chided, holding up a hand in front of his chest to motion for attention again from the group, "The way to the waterfall is long and treacherous. The witch, Eronel, still resides in the hidden cave and strives for release. She would bring utter ruin to Middle-Earth should she somehow escape. If we were to go in search of Eronel's cave, great care must be taken. We cannot risk her release."

"But we can also not risk Legolas' death," Aragorn pointed out, "If he dies, open war will erupt between the Elves and Dwarves. That would be just a devastating on our world."

"Where is this hidden cave?" Frodo then asked softly from Legolas' side.

"The cave is actually not far from Rivendell - perhaps a two days journey. It is hidden in a valley east of here in the Misty Mountains. But as I've said, the path is treacherous. The mountain pass to the valley may still be blocked by winter snow and ice. But Aragorn is right; we cannot let Legolas slip so easily. We must try to prevent war at all costs."

"I will go!" a loud shout rang out through the room as the dwarf Gimli erupted into life and sprang to his feet, "I will go to this cave a bring Legolas this healing water." The others looked at the dwarf, momentarily stunned into silence by his sudden uptake of the perilous task. In his eyes shined a desperate look of hope as he looked down to where his unlikely friend lay dying beside him.

"Gimli," Legolas called weakly from within his cocoon of soft white sheets, as he battled his own body to stay wake, "You do not need to burden yourself with this task."

"I burden myself with it," Gimli answered softly, laying a hand on the sick elf's shoulder, "All this was brought onto you by me and my ill-fated gift. I will not let you slip away without a fight."

"You offer to brave the dangerous road ahead, Gimli son of Gloin?" Elrond addressed the dwarf with regal regard.

"I do," he answered with dead set determination.

Taking all of this in, Toreingal finally could take no more and cried out with smoldering hate in his eyes, "No! No! No! No!" Turning on Elrond he exclaimed, "This dwarf poisons my cousin with a cursed dagger and you would allow him to go in search of the poison's only known cure?! He is treacherous and deceitful! Who is to say he will not leave Rivendell saying he is making for the hidden cave when in reality he is returning to his dark mines to leave Legolas to die waiting for a cure he will never return with? I will not allow such a thing to happen. I will go!"

"This is not your battle, elf!" Gimli retorted stubbornly, "I have already said I will go."

"I will not let a dwarf go to save my cousin as long as my bow still has a taunt string," Toreingal snarled venomously, coming to tower over Gimli's stout figure.

"That's it! I can take no more of this bickering!" Gandalf suddenly cried out in exasperation, breaking the tension between the two by pounding the end of his white staff against the floor loudly and earning himself a startled look from everyone in the room, "It is clear neither of you will be deterred of this task, but it is becoming increasing clear that you both cannot be trusted alone together in the wilderness. I will go with you both to see that this quest is completed with no casualties."

"I will go also," Aragorn quickly offered.

Following the Ranger came a barrage of 'Me toos' and 'I will gos' until Lord Elrond finally hushed them all with a single outstretched hand. Looking down to Legolas who lay by quietly as all his friends offered to willingly face the dangers ahead to bring him a cure, Elrond said softly, "You have many faithful friends with you. A person would be fortunate to have only one as faithful as yours." Looking up to the group, he rebuked gravely, "But while all of you are noble in your offers, not all may leave for the cave. Speed and quickness are of the essence. King Thanduil's army will soon leave from Mirkwood to march against the Dwarves. The enchanted water must be brought back to Rivendell as fast as possible. Should Legolas die, death and war would sweep over Middle-earth."

Swiveling his head to encompass the company of friends, he added, "The fewer travelers, the faster they could move. Since it is clear Toreingal and Gimli will not be cut from this quest, I would consul only one other companion to make sure there are no more quarrels such as the one I've seen between the two today. Gandalf, you have already offered your presence, so you will accompany them."

Not deterred by Elrond's command, Aragorn stepped forward and insisted, "Please, allow me to go with them. They will need a guide through the Misty Mountains."

"No, Aragorn, you will be needed here in Rivendell to prepare for Kind Thranduil should he make a preempted attack on any dwarves in these lands. Your skills cannot be spared."

Accepting these words after another moment's hesitation, Aragorn relinquished his fight and drew back to stand with the others who were to remain in Rivendell.

"We must prepare to leave immediately," Toreingal stated with commanding urgently, "I am no healer, but I doubt my cousin's ability to stave off this poison for long. Lord Elrond, how soon can you have ready all that is required for this quest?"

"By this afternoon," the elf-king answered.

"Then we will depart then," Toreingal announced loudly to the group. Kneeling beside Legolas' immobile form that lay helplessly beside him, he whispered encouragingly, "I will fly with the wind and bring you back this cure. Rest easy, Legolas. I will not let you down."

Legolas lolled his head sluggishly to the side to face his cousin. Fighting the urge to fall into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, the elf tried to muster the strength to bid Toreingal a safe journey. But he found himself unable to form any coherent words, he was too drained of energy.

Frustration mounted in the sickened warrior. He was not used to his body's being so unresponsive; for Elves were not ones to suffer sickness or death, and Legolas' condition was new and strange to him.

Bowing his head to the sick elf, Toreingal raised his right hand to his forehead where he then swiftly brought it to his chin. Then laying his hand on Legolas' fever warmed brow, Toreingal blessed quietly, "May Elbereth watch over you until I return..."

Then standing, Toreingal made as if to leave to ready for his journey but suddenly halted dead in his tracks several paces from Legolas' bed. Swiveling on his heels, he called back to Gimli with a disdainful gaze, "You, dwarf, I will be keeping a close eye on. Even after Legolas is brought back to health, you will answer for your treachery. Do not think that since you have come with me in search of the healing water with me that I will forgive you." With that, the elf stalked out of the door. Leaving those still in the room staring after him.

In the still silence that followed in Toreingal's wake, Legolas felt his energy leaving his body swiftly. Sleep called to him softly, lulling him onto the brink of unconsciousness where reality and dreams faded and folded into each other to form a misty fog. Fighting off the call to slip away into sleep, Legolas called out softly, "Gimli?"

Coming quickly to the elf's side, the dwarf asked gently, "What is it, my friend?"

Eyes already slowly falling shut in exhaustion, Legolas murmured, his words slightly slurred, just above a whisper, "Gimli, I apologize for my cousin's words… No matter what he may say, he means well. I thank you for going, though you are too stubborn for your own good. Maybe one of these days someone will finally beat some sense into that thick skull of yours. But I thank you nonetheless…Just please hasten back."

Gimli looked down at this, tears beginning to brim along his eyes as he stared into the floor, unable to meet his friend's gaze. How could Legolas still banter as though nothing had happened between them? How could he not blame him for the evil that had befallen him? What had he ever done for this elf to deserve such forgiveness or friendship? "Legolas…" he began in a faltering voice, "I…I'm sorry…about all of this. I-"

"Gimli. Stop." the elf ordered with surprising force in his frail voice, cutting the dwarf off before he could get out anymore. Looking into the dwarf's dark brown eyes, Legolas said purposely, "This is not your fault. I do not blame you. And if you do not stop with all these tiring apologies, I will be forced to string you up by that beard of yours."

Gimli could not fight the grim smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leave it to Legolas to let him keep his pride. Over time, both had learned the full depth of each other's pride and knew how hard it was for the other to offer an apology. Nodding in understanding, he placed a hand tenderly onto his friend's shoulder. But in his heart, the dark whisper of guilt still echoed through the dwarf's soul.

Weakly reaching up and seizing Gimli's hand into his own, Legolas gave Gimli a small, wan smile before finally letting his eyelids slowly shutter close. He could no longer fight the exhaustion that weighted on his body and mind. Comforted with the knowledge that Gimli and his closest friends were there by his side, Legolas let himself slip away into the deep void of sleep where the exhaustion and growing pain of the dark poison coursing through his veins could not follow. And although Legolas fell into distant dreams far astray from the world in which he left his worried friends, his weak but firm grip on Gimli's hand did not falter.

Fighting the hitching sob that threatened to break from his constricted throat, Gimli hung his head over the poisoned elf's body, ashamed and grief-stricken that he was the one to bring Legolas so much pain and suffering.

~This is all my fault. How can Legolas not blame me. It is my fault that he may die…~

"Take heart," Gandalf said reassuringly, seeing the dwarf's turmoil and came up behind him to place a reassuring hand on Gimli's muscular shoulder, "Legolas will not slip into darkness so easily. Lord Elrond will fight back this poison for as long as it will take for us to return with the enchanted water."

"I will not let Legolas down," Gimli affirmed quietly with solid resolve as he looked up into the Istari's wrinkled face.

"Then we must go now and prepare for your departure. You must ride long and hard to reach the hidden valley and cave and a great many things must be made ready. You will leave tonight before the sun sets," Elrond said in a deep voice of calm direction.

"What about Legolas?" Sam asked worriedly from the archer's side, standing on his toes to look over the edge of the large bed to better see the elf's sleeping face that still seemed many shades too pale than what would be deemed healthy.

"He will sleep for many hours. I am surprised to have even seen him awake. The herbs and medicine Gandalf and I gave him last night are potent and strong. To have seen him wake from under the power of my medicine exemplifies his strength and resistance He will not fall so easily," Lord Elrond answered with great regard and respect for the northern wood-elf. But despite his reassuring words, he knew Legolas' strength would only sustain him for so long until Eronel's dark poison finally overtook him.

"Hear that?" Pippin exclaimed, oblivious to the hidden truth of Elrond's words, "Legolas'll be fine! He'll make it!"

"Let us hope…" Aragorn muttered under his breath, meeting Gandalf's eyes and seeing in them the wizard's own doubt of the stricken elf's ability to hold off the deadly poison that was slowly pulling him down into darkness and death, "For all hope now lies with the enchanted water of the hidden cave…"

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Darkness permeated through every particle of the air as a distant laugh rang out over the distance. "Hope all you will…For it will avail you not. I am waiting for you. I am waiting, Gimli son of Gloin and descendent of the hated dwarf that drove me into this lonely abyss… I can sense you coming. It will not be long now until Eronel reigns fire once again upon the Elves and Dwarves of Middle-earth…"

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Signing out

-LAXgirl