Chapter II

As the company came out of the trees into the Forest Realm, Legolas steadied the horse and turned him, going up alongside Haldir. He directed him through the main gate and into the spacious Mirkwood courtyard.

"The liveries are there," pointed Legolas. The fair company passed through the tall arched doorways into the stables to tend to their fine steeds. Legolas galloped to the ornate palace threshold and nimbly dismounted. Thranduil was standing in the doorway to greet him. Doubtless, the Mirkwood sentinels had informed him of everything already.

"Mara aure, my son," greeted the sagacious king. "How went your journey?"

"Swift, yet tiring," answered Legolas. "No troubles."

"Come inside," said the king. "I have some more ill tidings."

The king sat in his ornate golden throne, bidding Legolas to sit as well.

"Legonin brought back information from all of the scouts yesterday," began Thranduil with a sigh. "I'm afraid it wasn't good. The Southrons have at least twice as many men as we do, and their defenses are sturdy. Every day, more come. I fear they are bringing their entire power against us."

"The skill of the Elves will best them," said Legolas confidently. He knew the Southrons to be clumsy and inept, at least most of them, but they had a great advantage through strength of arms. Even with this advantage, it took more than sheer numbers to win a war. Legolas twisted his silver ring on his finger, lost in thought. He wasn't certain when would be the best time to attack, but it must be soon, and in secret. If the Elves broke upon them suddenly, like water from a burst dam, the Southrons might be unprepared and highly useless in battle.

The outpost the Southrons had taken was small, most definitely not an important one, but it gave the Southrons yet another defense in their favor. But Legolas knew that only a few hundred men could utilize the fort at one time, not the thousands that the scouts had seen. The others were doubtless lurking around the woods, perhaps preparing to attack even now. Legolas finally decided to consult Haldir on this matter.

The decision had been made. They would attack to-night.

The company of five-hundred Elves marched through the shadows of the dark trees. A cloud hung over them, Legolas thought. A cloud of ill omen. But they continued nevertheless. The rank upon rank of Elves stealthily made through the woods, silence bound in their thoughts and hearts. They must be silent and swift. Six Elvish runners were scouting ahead, to bring back reports of any danger that might linger to the fore. If they happened upon any Southron spies, the order had been 'shoot to kill'. They would take no prisoners.

Five-hundred warriors, mingled Mirkwood and Galadhrim, had been left behind to defend the capital. It would do no good if the city were attacked in their absense. There was no noise. Not the clanking of armor, nor the thudding of feet. Elves had ways of keeping absolutely silent. So silent in fact, that a man might be standing a few inches away with his eyes closed and not even sense their presence. Legolas was near Haldir and a few other high ranking officers, the highest of Mirkwood being Anarato the fair. He was an experienced general who had led the army to many victories: in the current age and before.

Legolas couldn't help but feel apprehensive. There might be Southron scouts anywhere that would report their whereabouts to the enemy and completely ruin their surprise. A silent runner came in. It was Legonin.

"We killed a scout," he said. "Nothing new. I dragged him into the shrubs so that none might find him. There is no trouble ahead that I can see. We are nearly there." He turned and flew back where he had come with light and noiseless strides.

The outpost was seen through the trees. There was no one around it. Two sentinels stood watch outside of the door, but nothing else was seen.

"Where is their army?" Legolas whispered to Anarato. "Should we send scouts to look?"

"I felt certain they would be here," said Anarato. "Perhaps they had word of our coming, though not likely. I think the runners are already on their trail. If the army isn't here, it must be somewhere else." A dreaded realization hit him like lightening on a summer night.

"I shouldn't wonder if they are busy attacking the city while we parade around trying to find them," he muttered, a look of mingled horror and disgust at the Southron's cleverness in his eyes. While they were off trying to attack them at the outpost, the Southrons were making their way to the Mirkwood capital. Anarato began giving orders.

"Legolas and Orophin," he barked. "You are to follow their trail. We will come after at a distance. If they are at the city, run back and bring word, so we may make haste." Legolas and Orophin quickly stepped out of rank and raced across the clearing to the other side of the forest, where the Southrons would doubtless have gone.

Finding their trail instantaneously, they kept to the darkest shadows and passed like wood spirits under the cover of the forest.

Presently, Legolas saw the slumped form of a burly Southron warrior lying on the ground beside the trail. It was obvious what had killed him: a striped red and orange arrow protruded brutally from his back. Legolas and Orophin approached with caution.

"Why would they kill one of their own?" pondered Legolas aloud.

"I cannot say," replied Orophin, readying a flawless white arrow on the string of his longbow. "This might mean trouble."