A/N: We already know what's going on with Gandalf and Pippin and also Gorlak and his "Motley Crew"… ah haha! (slaps thigh) (crickets) What? Oh c'mon guys! Motley Crue is a band! Really! Anyways, this chapter will focus on the three hunters and their adventures in the Paths of the Dead. Please RR!


Chapter Two

Wagging of Tongues

The night was as obscure as the silent host following the seemingly solitary companions. Occasional green tinged shimmers were the only things that betrayed them. What a strange sight it must have been, an elf, a dwarf and a man traveling at a break-neck speed over the plains with what seemed to be a heat wave racing them in the frosty mirk. The man signaled to the other two and as they all slowed so did the shadow. Drawing their horses up to the border of some trees and picketing them, they quickly drew lots and after partially heard rumblings from the shorter one, the other two cast themselves on the ground while the dwarf begrudgingly leaned against the rough and peeling bark of a tree.

Another strange sight: a dwarf now guarding his comrades against a dimly coruscating mirage. The hours slowly departed and after what seemed forever to the head nodding dwarf, his shift was over. He stumbled over to the pair and resisted a side swiping kick at the loudly snoring one. Instead he squatted near the blonde one and cautiously waved a hand over his face, not really sure if he was already awake – those wide irises staring straight ahead were enough to startle anyone. Gimli stood up carefully.

"Ah, yes… elves… what's the matter with them anyways? Always nancing around and batting their eyes at anything that grows" he began somewhat timidly. "And that singing! I honestly don't think their precious trees can hear them and will therefore flourish because of their 'nuturing'!" he boasted, now quite boldly. He started circling the elf in a meandering way, just waiting for him to crack. "And what of - " he started.

"Of those cantankerous dwarves?" Legolas mused as he casually stood up and stretched his back. "Yes they're quite obnoxious, I agree. Especially when they're cooing to their 'exquisite' lumps of ore, in only what I can guess is their way of making it more valuable somehow".

Gimli spluttered and indignation radiated from his features. "AHA! I knew it, I knew it!" Gimli proclaimed, regaining his composure. "You cannot fool me master elf, I knew you were tormenting me, playing your mind games! How long were you scrutinizing me?" he asked, squinting his eyes in mock untrust.

"Long enough to know that you were getting more sleep than I. But all is well, for I was already refreshed and I was just making sure you fulfilled your duties. You never can be too sure with Dwarves… very shady creatures if you ask me." Legolas remarked, strolling over to where Gimli was still hunched over and smirked slightly, cobalt eyes dancing. Gimli muttered something incoherent and settled himself on the ground as comfortably as he could and soon he and Argorn created a symphony of pealing rumbles. Legolas groaned inwardly and followed suit of Gimli earlier and leaned against the rough bark of the blackened tree. The shimmer seemed to have disappeared from the silent host of dead men and even though this may sound like good news, it was not to Legolas.

"Wonderful," he thought, "if they attack now I will not be able to perceive it. But then again, I don't think three would have much of a chance against countless scores of the undead". His mouth twitched in amusement. "But then again Dwarves are fairly stubborn… and hardy for that matter" he mused, remembering the little game he and Gimli had partaken in at Helm's Deep. "And Aragorn would fight fearsomely, if only to see Undomiel one last time" he decided, already having known that his faith was completely in her. His heart was light at the thought of Arwen's restless heart finally finding solace in another. Especially in one he knew would be true, no matter what. For even though Legolas and Arwen were not meant to be, they had formed a deep friendship over the countless years, starting after many crossings through their father's reigns. At this memory Legolas frowned and remembered the last time he had seen her or her family. At the Council of Elrond. Yes, that was it. But what had become of Elladan and Elrohir, her brothers? They were present at the council, yet they had very little imput and seemed to only observe; they had stayed in Rivendell. Surely, Legolas thought, they would feel the need to be involved with the War of the Ring. Especially since they were some of a younger generation, like him and Arwen. Legolas finally closed off these thoughts and resigned himself to hearken to the silent night.


Gorlak snatched the parchment from the ruffled looking crebain preched on his arm and hastily shook it off, forcing it to spread it's wings and take flight. He read the message with squinted eyes.

Ten miles west you will come across two of those you are hunting; Elladan and Elrohir. Theyhave set offfrom Imladris is hopes to aid the men in the upcoming battle. Fortuneately they are traveling alone. At this moment they are resting in oak trees with their mounts concealed in nearby bushes. Proceed with extreme caution, for even two elves pose a dangerous threat. Heed my words and restrain yourselves: I want them alive.

Sharkey

Gorlak crushed the paper and widened his nostrils, trying to catch a stray scent on the night breeze. Nothing so far. "Furnash!" Gorlak hollered. A slightly shorter and swarthier orc came lurching towards him, having the appearance of limping because of his one shorter leg. Various metal chinking noises accompanied him, most noticeably the rusting chain dangling from his ear and attatched to his dilapidated mail coat, which gave off a dull clanking sound.

"Yes Cap'n?" Furnash drawled, cracking his knuckles.

"I have a job for you" Gorlak replied tonelessly. "Take half of my band and travel ten miles west and you'll find some elven scum. There are two of them, I want them taken as hostages and brought back to me. Me and the other half will meet you where the Gladden River joins the Anduin by tomorrow night." He ordered, taking out his chipped scimitar and running his scaly thumb lightly across the blade. He licked his cracking lips. Gorlak didn't trust anyone, including Furnash, but Furnash was one of the few ones in his lot that wasn't a complete and mindless killing machine.

"Aye Cap'n, 'twill be done" Furnash began, snatching the chance to rise higher in the ranks. A haughty smile crossed his weathered face and he started to turn away.

"Furnash…" Growlak growled.

"Aye?" Furnash replied uncertainly.

"Fail and I'll see to it that you're hung with your intestines used as a rope" Gorlak finished threateningly and stalked away. The smirk fell from Furnash's gruesome lips.

The night was cool, the breeze whispering through the trees and tugging at Elrohir's dark hair. If only he or Elladan had been listening to what it was trying to tell them. A slight shift in position gave Elrohir away, he hadn't fallen into the deep elvish slumber yet. But he could feel Elladan's nearby prescnce and knew that he was most definitely doing what he was not. Elrohir sighed and turned on his side, letting the sturdy branches of the oak cradle him. Rest began to overtake him and on the very brink of dreaming, he thought he heard twig snap… but it must have been only the horses, restless as he was.


A/N: Ah! Wake up Elrohir! Yes you'll have to wait to see what happens…

Please RR? (smiles sweetly)