Disclaimer: For the hundredth time, I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Changing legend into fact,

We shall ride into history.

Turning myth into truth,

We shall surely gaze

On the sweet unfolding

Of an antique mystery.

All will be revealed

On the trail we blaze.

–The Road to El Dorado

(A/N: How do you get it to not space between lines of a song?)

Chapter Ten

Of Lost Wizards, Polite Hawks, and Dragon's Lairs

"Morgan?"

Athos nodded. "She's the last person I expected, though I should really know better by now."

"Why?" The other voice was that of his second-in-command, Angelica, Eric's sister, and one of the best fighters Athos had ever known. She had long golden hair and light blue eyes that mirrored her brothers.

"I've been getting to know her and the rest of the Woodland Wanderers a little better."

"Peter's idea?"

Athos shook his head. "Morgan's. We have a lot in common."

"Like what?"

"We both like to run," Athos suggested meekly. That was how the whole thing had gotten started. Morgan ran cross-country at her school, and had gotten lost in the woods. She and the rest of the Woodland Wanderers had met up with Athos and they really got off on the right foot.

"Literally and metaphorically," Angelica sighed. "What do you think this is going to accomplish?"

"I think I'm getting somewhere with them," Athos admitted.

"That's probably what they say about you."

"Well, then I'll just have to prove them wrong."

"How?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"I think I do. Anything special?"

"You know my orders."

"Keep them alive."

"Bingo."

"Are we lost, Gandalf?" Bergil asked.

"I'm afraid so. My memory of these woods is dim, indeed. So much has happened since I was last here. I should've asked Radagast to come with me. He keeps up with what's going on here, if not so much in Middle-Earth sometimes."

"What should we do, Mithrandir?" Elrond asked. "The message must reach the elves."

"It shall. Bergil, Eowyn, follow our trail back and try to find the path. Elrond and I will continue in this direction. One of us will make it to our destination."

"Are you sure, my friend?" Elrond asked as Bergil turned and ran back to Eowyn. "Is splitting up wise?"

"Probably not. Let's hope that Eowyn and Bergil will find the elves. We must head elsewhere. I have sensed an unusual presence to the west."

"I, as well, but is it that important?"

"I fear it is." The wizard whispered something and the elf's eyes widened.

"How is that possible?" he asked.

"I don't know. It has lain dormant long, else we would have known, or someone else."

"Then you're right. We must hope for the best for Bergil and Eowyn."

"Come. We haven't any time to lose."

"The end of the forest!"

"Yes, Legolas, it is."

"I was sure the forest was larger than this. That wasn't more than a couple of miles."

"The forest has a way of doing that. There's no real way to measure distance. Where's Radagast?"

"Here," the Wizard called, flying down. "Sorry I'm late. I met a very polite hawk up there."

"You're right on time," Avanwë sighed, not quite comfortable with the Wizard's shape-changing habits. "We just got here."

"Oh, good," Radagast laughed, taking his regular form.

"I wish you would stop that."

"You think it a bit childish, my good Elf?"

"Well, yes," Avanwë admitted reluctantly. "This is serious."

"That it is, Avanwë, but you mustn't get too serious or everyone will be able to tell exactly what you're going to do. You'll always do the logical thing."

"I'll try to remember that. Now, you try to stay focused."

"Agreed. And you, Legolas, try to understand what's going on. It's about to get a lot stranger."

"Land here, Rainbow," Noka directed.

"That still amazes me," Balo admitted. "How did you know where we were?"

"The direction of the sun and the path of the wind," Noka smiled casually.

Rona grinned. Noka had come a long way from when he'd first lost his sight, and not just in his skill at telling directions and such. He'd grown, toughened, adapted to his new way of living. In the end, it had helped him.

The elves dismounted outside a large cave. Kytes live underground, in the dark, though they often come out at night and will do so during the day if the need is great enough.

"Stay here," Tandro instructed. "I'll go see if anyone's home."

"Funny, Tandro. Really funny."

"You're the what?" Merry asked.

"The Woodland Wanderers. We're here to help," Morgan said.

"Fine job you've done so far," Sam noted sarcastically.

"Why, thank you, Sam," Peter laughed. "We try."

"They've gotten three of us out," Merry reminded Sam.

"And three different ones in. What good did that do?"

"More than you know," Peter said mysteriously. "Your friends out there will be of more help than they would've been in here."

"What about you?" Merry asked.

"We might actually be of more help in here. I'll warn you three again, Faramir, Merry, and Sam. Be ready for anything. You don't know yet what you're up against."

As if in proof of the old man's warning, the door once again swung open. An army of gleems was on the other side. Merry drew his sword first. Morgan nodded, drawing her own, and Peter followed her lead. Faramir handed his sword off to Sam and drew his bow.

"Foolish, my friends," said a voice from behind the gleems.

"I know," Peter smiled. Then, to the others, "They won't kill us. They want us alive. Show them the same."

Faramir smiled, glad at least to follow those directions. Even in war, when it was necessary, he hated killing, and was glad to have found company of the same mind.

"You just don't back down, do you?" Athos asked.

"Nope," Morgan said. "You knew that already."

"Then you will be forced to cooperate."

"Where have I heard that before?" Peter asked with a laugh. "It didn't work then, and it won't work now."

"We'll see about that," Athos replied. "Gleems, take them away."

"So far, so good," Latano whispered. "No one's recognized me."

"We haven't found anyone," Gimli reminded him.

"They're watching us," Aragorn answered for Latano. "I can feel their eyes."

"Thank you, Strider," the elf smiled. "Finally, a human who doesn't question everything I feel."

"I was raised by the Elves. That might account for part of it."

"Really? I thought there was something familiar about you. Elves even from Middle-Earth have a distinct feeling about them: wise and sad, yet joyous and somehow majestic."

"Something familiar? Was one of the humans in your group raised by elves?"

"Peter was, yes, and Morgan may as well have been."

"And Eric?"

"He's human through and through. Yet his time on this island has changed him, in more ways than one."

"You lost me somewhere," Gimli interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

Just then, there was a bird call: the sound of a robin. Latano returned it, changing the pitch but not the rhythm. "I'll have to answer that another time, Gimli," the elf said cautiously. "We have company."

"Strange is right," Legolas agreed when he saw the dwarf-village. Small houses made of stone and wood were scattered in every direction. Some had chimneys. Some simply had a hole in the roof. None were more than five feet tall.

Avanwë smiled mysteriously. She went up to one of the doors, bent down, and knocked. "Just a minute!" called a voice.

What answered the door was not what Legolas had expected. It had no beard, and thus didn't look like a Dwarf, but it was no Hobbit, either. Its hair was straight and it wore shoes. In fact, Legolas realized, the dwarves of the island looked much like the elves. They were perhaps a little more muscular, but nothing more noticeable than that.

The dwarf who answered the door had sandy-colored hair almost to his shoulders. He had light grey eyes and looked a little surprised to see Avanwë. His name was Novi.

"Mavo! What a surprise! And Radagast! Now, who's this?" the dwarf exclaimed.

"Legolas," the Elf answered. "Who's Mavo?"

"I am," Avanwë laughed. "They call me that here."

"Oh. That doesn't sound Dwarvish. Not that that's a complaint, I mean. I much prefer that to all that khazad-stuff."

"It's not Dwarvish," Radagast said, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"I don't understand."

"The dwarves here speak the same language as the elves," said another dwarf, stepping out of the house. "Actually, the same two languages: English, or the Common Tongue, as you call it, and our own language, which has never really had a name. I see you've already met my brother, Novi. My name's Naroma."

Other than their height, Novi and Naroma didn't look much like brother and sister. She had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, and even slightly darker skin. Her hair was longer and wavier, and she was a lot less cautious around strangers, especially elves.

"Now, you three are here why?" Novi asked.

"To warn you," Radagast answered, finally catching his breath from laughter. "The gleems are coming."

"There's the path, Eowyn!"

"I see it. Come on."

"Gandalf and Elrond should have com back this way with us," Bergil said, smiling.

"Thy had no way of knowing which was right. We don't even know if this is the right path. The one we were on didn't go off that way; I remember."

"Well, let's follow it anyway."

"I agree. It might be the right path."

"If not to the village, then to some other place."

"Exactly. Like maybe a dragon's lair."

"Or an abandoned tower."

"Or a troll's cave"

Both were laughing by now, and quite unprepared for what was about to happen, for they were being watched.

Muahahahahahahaha. But who are they being watched by, that is the question, for whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of . . . wait, wrong story.