Author's Note: Hello again and welcome to chapter two! Sorry it took so long to update, I've had this chapter trapped on my computer for a month, my laptop picking this time to break down of course. There will be a third chapter to this story and then depending on my ideas, I might start a second short fic with the same characters. Also Amanthoniel is getting a name change, but because it is trapped on my other computer, that will have to wait. Special thanks to my wonderful reviewers for their encouragement. And to The Lady of Light, yes, my "was" habit just became evident with your review and the notice of my other beta. Thanks for the tips. I'm trying my best to strengthen my prose voice now. A huge thanks goes out to my beta Dragonfly32 who has been absolutely excellent. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Toklien's work. Lady Amanthoniel and her companions alone are mine.

Part Two The Bard's Brigands

Haldir lurched forward, paying little heed to the men clustered around him, their weapons suddenly thrust in his flushed face.

"How dare you?" he could not control his anger, her very words incensed him. "How dare you call me your lover?"

"It is my right, is it not?" her eyes too blazed but her voice remained calm. "Did you not pledge your heart to mine?"

"Regrettably so," he spat.

"You are not proud of me then?" Lady Amanthoniel's face twisted further into a sardonic grin.

"For fleeing your home to form this little band of brigands?" the men around him muttered harshly.

"No, for doing what I aspired to," she gave a little prideful laugh. "I have become the most celebrated minstrel to ever strike a harp. My name has sounded over the land, reaching even the farthest corners of the wild."

"In your search for fame you find madness instead," Haldir twisted his arm locked in the surly grip of a particularly large man.

"Take care March Warden," she cajoled, flashing a dangerous smile in his direction. "I will not suffer you to be harmed…much." Amanthoniel let her last words fall like the beating of icy hail upon stone. The Galadhrim, who were crowded together like fair flowers amongst a thicket of briar, exchanged dark glances. Haldir forced himself to remain calm, pushing back those tempting thoughts of vengeance. But her mere smile, the bitter venom laced into her breathy tones drove him wild.

"Fool of a she-elf!" he threw off his captor as if he were shaking off droplets of rain. "What heights you would have risen too! Had you but stayed the impulsive emotions that ruled your heart!" His freedom felt brief, too brief for him to make any attempt at attack or escape. No less than five men pushed him down to his knees. Haldir shook his head, enjoying the rage that suffused her pale cheeks. The fires crackled loudly nearby, the branches snapping and hissing as embers cast themselves into the air. Yet when she spoke her voice echoed with a deadly calm, similar to the kind which borders a violent thunderstorm.

"Did my leave-taking pain you so much?" she asked, leaning forward as her hot breath spilled across his cheeks. "Or is it the truth that I became something much more than you ever could, a minstrel."

"Minstrel, ha!" he spat the words back at her. "You are less of a minstrel and more of a mad, ransacking murderer."

"Idle words born of the stories spread by the tradesmen poison your mind, Captain," her eyes glowed in the darkness, lit from within by that tempestuous rage she always embraced. Those two blue-gray orbs were like a summer sky that is thick with haze in the afternoon, or perhaps like the pale blue that fills the heavens as the sun makes its hasty descent into the abyss beyond the horizon. At times they appeared languid, hooded by dark lids that clasped over the white edges. But in those times of anger, they flashed with unknown malice, a very threat in their own right.

"Haldir, my dear Haldir," she spoke softly and patiently, every syllable weighed down by condescension. "Surely you know of the places betwixt, when myth and truth blur together as one. It is thus, do we exist somewhere amongst the gray."

"Insanity clouds what little reason you ever possessed," his knees were beginning to ache as they were pressed into the dirt, the men not daring to loosen their grip upon him again.

Amanthoniel stared blankly at him for a moment broken by a fit of passion, such that she had always been prone to in her earlier days. With a cruelly twisted laugh she leapt upon the overhanging rock once more, casting her arms up in the air, her hair streaming back.

"It is a night for music!" she shouted, her voice trembling with great fervor. "A night for fires! And a night for tales!" The men below hooted and howled, stamping their feet and making such a noise that they appeared to be more beast-like than the horses that shifted nervously nearby. When all this died down, the Lady leaned forward, giving herself the same air a goddess might when she descends from her throne to confer with mere mortals. Haldir heard his companions moving anxiously besides him and silently he prayed that the guards still within the wood heard the commotion and would fly to their aid.

"March Warden, I bid you speak!" she pointed at him, a long, thin finger piercing the silky air stained with smoke and flame. "Though I confess, I believe you less well versed than I hoped I still wish to hear the tale from your lips before the truth passes mine."

One of the branches snapped, its will finally bending to that of the fire. Ash and sparks flew past his face as he gazed at her. He needed to buy time. If the rest of the Galadhrim were indeed on their way he would distract Amanthoniel and her band. It remained the only way. Haldir chanced a quick glance at his brothers, one eye sliding to where they stood restrained by the fatal looking crossbows aimed steadily at them. The crazed elleth sat still on her perch, her hunched shoulders giving her the appearance of a great bird of prey.

"Very well," Haldir flicked his tongue over his parched lips. "I will tell the story, as I know it best." A pause held the air captive. He searched for words, any words suitable for such a beginning. The men watched him intently, obviously interested in what he purposed to say. At length, he began.

"It happened many years past. In my youth, a member of the guard for only three decades. Even then my talent shone through. But I had a good teacher," here he let his gaze float back up to her though her features remained stony. "She too was young, barely my senior. Yet her knowledge in areas of war and military greatly surpassed mine. Years passed before I was considered her equal. We fought together, partners in battle and soon became partners in life. I loved her and I always thought that she too carried deepest affections for me."

Again he paused, searching her features. But she had long ago taken up the mask of indifference and now she hid her emotions with ease. Haldir strained his ears, listening for any noise of what he prayed might be the approaching guards. Though if they indeed made full use of their abilities they should be impossible to detect, even to his trained hearing. His stomach turned uncomfortably as he remembered how easily the men ambushed them. With any luck these elves could outwit them.

"Go on!" Amanthoniel waved her hand in impatience. "You have relayed only half of the tale." The March Warden sifted his knees through the hard soil that bruised them.

"I loved her and as I have said, she appeared to feel for me in a similar fashion," Haldir continued slowly. "My lover, however, always possessed some disturbing qualities. At first they barely troubled my mind yet as the days wore on, it became more and more unbearable. I often wondered if she truly wished to be a soldier. She spoke on the ways of the minstrel time and again. Whenever one would come to the court of Lady Galadriel she delighted in performing with them. For she too had great talents, her tapered fingers seemingly better suited for the harp or lute rather than the sword or bow. Now she began to speak on leaving, of abandoning her life as a guard and taking to the roads and wilds as a minstrel. I became enraged at her flights of fancy. The thought that she would leave for such a simple, worthless thing near drove me to violence."

"Aye!" Amanthoniel expostulated harshly from her post, crouched down upon the rock. Haldir stuttered for a moment, they were coming to the dangerous part of the story. Seeing her display of rage before he wondered if this too would again drive her and her men into a frenzy. But he could do nothing now, he would continue.

"She became more and more drawn to the music and the fiercer ways of life," his voice felt dry in his throat as the terrible memories came flooding back. "I distrusted her and her impulsive tendencies. This led to many a heated argument between us. At the close of it all I told her I could no longer love her. We parted ways. Yet then, she indulged in a most barbaric habit. During the early summer months, when the sky was heavy with storms a small party of orcs assaulted Lorien. Rushing onto the field of battle, where steam and blood rose from the earth she slaughtered the foul beasts. This of course, is not what disturbed me most, but the music. As her blade cut through their wretched hides she sang and from her came the most foreign, most haunting music I ever heard. She seemed wild, aye wild, driven by some insane force that possessed her mind."

A brief wave of emotion threatened to silence his voice as he recalled the cool contempt in her eyes that now fully ruled her being. Collecting himself, Haldir went on haltingly.

"I rushed onto the field, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. I suppose I wished to cast out the demons that ravaged her thoughts. But she pushed me away, screaming and cursing. A battle ensued betwixt use on that blood-soaked field, our words and cries harsher than the rotten arrows of the orcs. Before the end of it, she told me that not a day would pass when her music would not haunt my mind and that, sadly has been true. She claimed I betrayed her and then hastened away, far away into the wild. I never saw her again, though the stories reached my ears. Are you satisfied now, Amanthoniel?"

"Aye," she nodded and he thought he saw a flash of sorrow pass over her face. But in the shifting shadows and dim moonlight he could not be sure and it faded, like the last rays of light that cling to the horizon before dark. She stood, the silver chain mail that encased her person rang like bells. "Your tale is but one of many," her voice now strangely hollow, devoid of the living fury that once cloaked it. "For I, I also have a tale. The weavers spin graciously the thread that courses through our lives, though at times it becomes tangled with another creating a web of pain and of lies."

Haldir suppressed a sigh. In some dim corner of his mind the light of hope had been burning that perhaps if she heard the story once more some sense would return to her. Amanthoniel paced smoothly on the stone, her booted feet scraping against the rock. And slowly that old smile curved along her lips and her mouth opened wide like a wolf prepared to devour the hare it had cornered.

"We await your song, my lady," a man's deep voice spoke up just outside the ring of fire. Amanthoniel's eyes shot up and a certain admiration seemed to penetrate those murky depths. The man stepped forward , allowing only a bit of his face to be bathed in the red glow of the flames. He had long hair that reached past his shoulders and down his spine. The color was dark but not entirely detectable in the gloom. His features looked drawn, small beady eyes hiding beneath his brow. Not at all amiable or handsome was he, though a sort of masculine majesty surrounded him. The Lady felt oblivious pleased by his sudden appearance and with an unknown sickening twist in his gut, Haldir guessed that this may be her human lover.

"I shall speak freely, dear one," she addressed him softly, her tone now taking on the quality of the wind when it plays through the trees so gently. The March Warden knew that tone, so often it passed his ears on happier occasions. A rustling, almost too quiet to be noticed shook the branches of the sapling behind them. With a great thrill of the spirit Haldir sensed his guards approaching. This joy however, was unexpectedly followed by a wretched pang of guilt. Amanthoniel would rather be slain than taken back to the city. Setting his jaw Haldir pushed away these feelings of regret. A casualty they could afford. And perhaps then, her cursed songs would no longer haunt his mind though deep down inside he had his own sinking doubts.

"Alas!" the elleth let one of her small arms drift upwards, the mail around it shimmering like a fallen star. "The moon above must soon bow to the reign of the sun, such a cruel tyrant is he to the lady that guards the night and his children while he slumbers. I must be brief, though it may be for the best." The elves besides Haldir noticed the movement in the trees as well. The eyes of the men were firmly fixed on their leader, so carefully the Galadhrim let their hands creep towards their fallen weapons. Haldir gazed longingly at his bow and quiver which were dragged out of the woods along with him. It was tantalizingly close, a mere yard or two from his fingertips. But still a risk. She would see his movement, she always did.

Quieting himself beneath the iron grasp of the men that held him captive, Haldir satisfied his racing mind with the thought that he would come out the victor, putting an end to this ancient battle of the wills that for so long existed betwixt them.

A long moment passed, Amanthoniel paced all the more frantically on the giant stone. Her brow creased as she murmured vaguely through a series of words to begin her tale.

"It was many years ago, that part I believe the elf has gotten right," her voice echoed through the air, a final stillness settling over the meadow. Then, they were ambushed. It came in a violent flurry, the Galadhrim leaping out from the protective close of the forest, like stampeding deer. They thundered over the meadow, the sweet moonlight glancing off their harsh weapons.

With a force unequal to the strength he displayed before Haldir threw off his captors and groped for his bow. Dimly, he heard the sound of their bodies hitting the ground and barrage of muffled curses trumpeted angrily at his back. But he had no thought, no simple wish save Amanthoniel. It was beyond the call of duty, every fiber of being bent on bringing her to justice.

Gazing up he quickly took in the chaotic scene before him. The Galadhrim were struggling to overcome the men who surprisingly took flight, bounding through the grasses. With final daring glances they looked back, sending a last volley of arrows sailing towards the elves with their crossbows. He saw the fierce man, the one who had addressed the lady, making all haste in reaching the horses. The others followed him, leaping swiftly onto their mounts as the guards drew near.

Haldir deftly nocked an arrow, the feathers rubbed against his sweaty palms, the wooden shaft brought a strange feeling a comfort. His eyes skipped around the campsite and landed back on the rock. To his utter shock he found that she had not left her perch but rather remained standing there, looking almost amused. Their gazes locked, the time brief yet it lingered on, bewitching his senses for that painful instant.

"Clever," her lips slow to form the words. "Victory belongs to neither then. It is well. Alas, I depart with my company!" And as she murmured the last few phrases Haldir pulled taut the bowstring, though his fingers trembled ever so slightly. She smiled once more, a knowing smile rich with all her brash arrogance. Bounding off the rock she dashed to her horse and Haldir released the arrow. The Galadhrim swarmed around him, all moving as one to pursue the men. Vaguely he felt Rumil and Orophin come to stand besides him, but they stayed their course and paused to watch. The Captain's eyes trained in on that single arrow as it coursed so gently through the night air, forming a graceful arc. It landed…a foot short.

Her demented cackle followed, that tangled mass of hair flowing back. She reached her horse and threw herself upon its back.

"Away! Away! We live to sing again!" was her last feverish cry as the party jolted forth, disappearing along the horizon. Haldir felt his bow slip from his hands, his brothers' heavy breathing echoing in his ears. They stood, left behind in the glow of the dying embers.

"Amanthoniel…she has indeed returned," the Lady Galadriel tested the words delicately in her mouth. But her brow remained smooth and her features light as she spoke as if not a care had fallen upon them.

"Forgive me, hiril nin," Haldir bowed deeply, ignoring the roaring headache that seeped into his temples. "I allowed the bandits to escape. The fault is entirely mine." Galadriel did not answer her Captain but instead continued to smile, eyeing him with barely concealed curiosity. The March Warden was quite a sorry sight the next morn, his face tense with exhaustion and warring emotions. The Galadhrim of course made chase after Amanthoniel and her band to no avail. Like true cowards they fled, leaving a slowly dying fire and nothing more. It was in the final hours of night, when the eastern sky was touched with those gentle colors of dawn that Haldir reluctantly called off the search and returned to Caras Galadhon.

He had been most eager to seek out his Lord and Lady. The weight of his actions or lack of action rather, laid heavy on his mind, though Celeborn and Galadriel were less than disturbed.

"It does no good to cast your mind to torment, Captain," Celeborn said solemnly from beside his wife. "Your thoughts should lie on other matters, I think."

"Aye, hir nin," Haldir suffered through another bow.

"Amanthoniel is a worthy opponent," Galadriel's blue eyes sparkled. "I do expect it of you Captain, to apprehend the elleth and her band and bring them to me."

"With all pardons, hiril nin, the lunatic will not suffer herself to be captured. Her blood will be spilt on the borders ere she enters your realm," he replied softly.

"Then tell her it is I, Lady Galadriel, who summons her," the Lady of Light said. "I daresay she will not deny me such a pleasure."

"Yes, hiril nin," Haldir straightened, feeling his joints creak with stiffness, especially his knees.

"Strange," Celeborn turned to his wife. "I had not expected her to return. The rumors suggest she plays well her part as the minstrel."

"A minstrel," his wife answered simply. "A most noble trade for one so gifted in the arts of music. You are dismissed Captain," she finished with a mild nod.

Haldir took his leave a bit more confused than before only to be accosted by his siblings, both bearing the tell-tale signs of a night spent in desperate plight and furious search. Their faces were stony, etched with a sort of sorrow that made Haldir's heart sink all the more.

"You told us she was dead," an accusation, Orophin meant it so.

"So I hoped," Haldir fumbled through his words, too weary to argue with them. After a night of sharpened wits, playing a game of deadly cat and mouse with that fiend of a she-elf he could not bear the prying questions of his own kin.

"You said she had perished on that battlefield," now Rumil's spoke, his face noticeably pale.

"A lie," the March Warden brushed past them quickly.

"The stories are true then, during all this time which you feigned innocence," Rumil remained persistent, following him down the long flight of stairs that led from the Lady's flet.

"A falsehood as well."

"The stories of the phantom riders, the tales of a strange band riding from village to village, haunting the wild with their music," Orophin picked up for his younger brother. "The wild maid that headed them, who cut down those who dared to tread upon her path and used their blood to dye her hair."

"Aye, those are the tales."

"You knew!" Rumil cried, nothing less than incredulous. "You knew and yet you did nothing!"

"I knew the maid went mad," Haldir spun around sharply, his face flushed with rage. "The stories followed and my knowledge was the same as yours. She rides from town to town or so the legends say. She spends her time in the wild otherwise and dances on hills bathed in the light from her fires. A fierce creature, not to be trusted or met with on the dark roads when the veil of night has fallen. This is my knowledge, tangled in legend as is yours. Berate me not for the evil of others, whatever it may be."

And with that he left his brothers, left them to stand lost in the terrible world of myth that was bound to ensnare them all.

Elleth: Female elf

Hiril nin: My lady

Hir nin: My lord