A/N

Hi again. I wanted to get this chapter out before I go away. I'll be out camping for a week and will have no computer access. Gasp. Don't get me wrong. I love being outdoors. But it's weird not being able at the end of the day to come in and work on this story. Still I plan to get the whole of chapter 4 (since everyone counts the prologue as a chapter) written out while I'm out there so that when I come back I can type it up and post it almost right away. And thanks again to all the wonderful people who reviewed. So as a reward here's chapter three. Which to be politically correct is actually chapter two. Not that any of you care, you just want the story update. Can't say I blame you. Lights!

Note: Full disclaimers and such can be found in the prologue. I repeat: I don't own LOTR!

Chapter Two: Linhinenet

Faramir indeed did not allow for much rest along the way. Setting the pace at a quick but not tiring gait they spent much of the journey on the South Road, the road that would lead them into Harad itself if they chose to follow it that far, which they did not. For a while if they turned around in their saddles they would still be able to see the White City gleaming against the mountains like a ghost of legend. But due to landscape and distance there came a point at which even Legolas lost sight of Gondor's great city.

The going was easy and smooth which aided them in keeping their set pace. At first the ominousness of their mission caused the soldiers to ride in silence. Yet as they found themselves further from home and closer to their enemies they actually began to ease up a bit, though ever did they remain on the alert. Isolated conversation sprang up, and the men gladly took part in it to ease the tension, though one stern look from their commanders was all that was needed to ensure the volume stayed at a minimum.

As when he was traveling with the White Company the day before, Legolas kept to himself and focused on the trees and hills they passed by. Faramir simply either discussed softly with Beregond their options for dealing with the southern threat, or rode in silent contemplation. Beregond for his part kept an eye on his surroundings when he was not talking with Faramir.

As soon as they had gotten a league from the city men had been assigned the job of acting as scouts. Three now rode in front of the group, three more behind. Still it made Beregond feel more easy to check the surroundings out himself. He trusted the men they had assigned to make sure they were neither followed nor ambushed, but watching the terrain gave him something to do to pass the time.

His gaze wandered through the treetops, over the heads of the other White Company Guards. They currently surrounded Faramir and Legolas, mostly to protect the Steward. The elf could ride anywhere he pleased, but had been riding near the prince of Ithilien and so had gotten caught in the Company's protective circle when they had left the Great Gates. Beregond himself rode at the center with the Steward in case the man needed to talk with him. Which had proven to be the case.

Now, however, Faramir had once again fallen into a phase of silence and he was left to himself. Shifting his gaze ahead of the group he happened to sight the elven member of their group. For the moment the elf had left off visually searching his surroundings, though the captain could tell by his posture that he was still listening for any disturbances other than the dozens of fully armed people riding behind him.

An unexpected slip on an exposed tree root caused Arod to skitter to the side, snorting in displeasure. The guards were quick and careful to keep their horses out of the stallion's way while Legolas calmed him. Beregond watched in admiration of the skilled horsemanship that was being displayed in front of him as the elf kept his seat and calmly used his soft voice and gentle touch to bring Arod back under control.

The former Citadel guard had observed the horse of Rohan several times when Legolas had brought him to Emyn Arnen where Faramir and Eowyn dwelt in North Ithilien. Arod was fiery and stubborn, just like his master could be when he had a mind to. In fact Beregond had noticed that Arod was almost impossible to handle when Legolas wasn't there to at least tell him to behave, but when the elf was around the high spirited grey was as docile as a kitten. Having an elf for a rider these past few years had made the animal much more willful than any other horse Beregond had seen with the exception of Shadowfax, reinforcing and releasing a fiery spirit that had always been somewhat held back before the equine had met the son of Thranduil.

At that moment however his attention was drawn from Legolas and Arod as a small grey streak flashed in front of his own horse, causing the animal to snort and stop short, resulting in a chain reaction with several people behind him. "Is everything alright sir?" one of them asked, his voice respectful yet somehow managing to convey his annoyance clearly.

"Yes, a bird just startled him that's all." Beregond spoke a few reassuring words to the mare and urged her on. Faramir had seen what had happened and slowed his gelding down in case the bay mare gave his captain any more trouble.

When Beregond got his horse straightened out and cantered a few paces forwards to join him again he signaled his horse to pick up the pace. Legolas and the others in front of them had slowed as well when the mare had spooked and now moved on again. Now however everyone's attention was being drawn to the horses, who were all acting a bit agitated. They had just been too preoccupied before with scouting and keeping a quick pace to notice much.

Legolas on the other hand had sensed a shadow on their surroundings, and had only vaguely acknowledged his companions and their current difficulties. Throwing his senses outward he had picked up a basic position located somewhere to the right of the Road. It was deep into the woods and he could tell it wasn't getting any closer, but he still was wary. Something about it held the essence of Warg, but at the same time felt much like the unease he and Aragorn had been feeling of late. Yet if he focused exclusively on the foreboding and tried to pair it with a location he still ended up with his focus being drawn to the south, not to the west as this dark tendril was.

Legolas felt himself begin to tense as they continued on. Arod picked up on his rider's unease and began to dance sideways, pawing at the ground, ready to take off should Legolas only give the word. He could tell there was danger nearby; so could the other horses. They started to toss their heads and huff in distress as their riders tried to calm them.

Faramir and Beregond looked pointedly at the elf for some sort of explanation. Unless they figured out how what was scaring the equines the entire company was going to end up unseated and faced with the prospect of chasing over two hundred frightened horses, all of which carried the men's food and other provisions tied to their saddles.

Speaking to Arod in elvish to keep him relatively calm, Legolas focused all of his attention on the forest to their right. Straining his eyes, he sought to see through the trees what it was that had sent the horses skittering and his senses screaming that danger was near.

A warning jolted through him and his head whipped around further to the right, almost behind them. Just under the low boughs of a tree about fifty feet from the road was a Warg. Its small ears swivelled backwards and its eyes narrowed as its lips drew back into a silent snarl. A second Warg appeared beside the first, and a third padded up to crouch closer to the road.

In a split second the elf's bow was in his hand, an arrow notched and ready to be fired. Faramir saw his reaction and knew they were in danger. But the elf had yet to tell him what the danger was and he and the rest of the men were being forced to focus all of their attention on keeping the horses under control. Until the immortal gave the danger an identity they were helpless.

Legolas was already sighting in on the closest of the monstrous creatures, but paused just long enough to spit out one hate filled word. "Wargs."

Faramir's eyes widened for a split second and he let out a curse under his breath. No Wargs had been sighted in this area for over a year. This certainly put a kink into their journey. He set his mouth in a grim line, and nodded at the elf. "Take them down." He and the others knew distance weapons were the first and often safest choice when dealing with the foul wolves of Mordor. It was all the command he had time to give as his gelding screamed and reared, almost spilling him onto the ground.

To a creature such as an equine, the smell of death, blood and decay that accompanies wolves and other predators is as terrifying as the rattle of a rattlesnake. The horses the company rode were well conditioned to the vigors and demands of military life, yet inborn instinct is all but impossible to override. Humans and elves and other people trained to override it of self will can do so at need, but to prey animals such instincts are encouraged, for in the wild they are sometimes the difference between life and death.

Legolas was already in motion, using calf muscles long conditioned to do almost anything bareback that a person could do with a saddle and stirrups. He griped Arod's sides tighter and pushed himself off the stallion's back, into something resembling a standing position. This added height aided him in aiming over the others' heads. Sighting on the third Warg's eye he straightened his fingers and let his arrow fly.

It never struck flesh. Instead it struck the trunk of another tree, sinking half of its length into the tough fiber.

Just as he had released the missile a streak of gray and white shot out of the forest canopy and struck the beast on top of its skull, angling the drop so the Warg would see it out of the corner of its eye and reflexively move.

The maneuver caused the canine to drop its head several inches. Just enough that Legolas' arrow missed, leaving the Warg annoyed but unscathed, with the exception of a cut over its right eye from the interferer's claws. The bird itself, a sparrow from the look of it, swung around and started emitting a series of outraged chirps. The sheer speed and angle at which the winged creature came in with had allowed it to also escape the elvish arrow without injury.

Legolas couldn't believe what he was seeing. A sparrow helping a Warg? This was certainly something he had never heard of before, let alone seen. There was no doubt in his mind that if someone told him they'd witnessed something like this he would have thought them drunk or suffering from some other ailment.

Swifter than the eye could follow he had another arrow drawn back and ready for another attempt when he saw another sight that he never expected. The Wargs all turned and ran back into the forest, out of sight and out of range faster than a dark breath of wind. What was even more astonishing was the fact that the sparrow, after sparing him a quick glance, followed them.

It was common knowledge that both Sauron and Saruman used a wide variety of spies before and during the war, but it was also known that those spies would never risk their lives to help their comrades unless those comrades had something their master wanted. And they never used Wargs except to aid the orcs or to hunt something down. Legolas knew there were no orcs about, he would have sensed them by now.

And both the Dark Lord and Saurman were destroyed, so other than the Warg packs and crebain flocks (which would stay for the most part together) the spies should all be dispersed, not working together, and certainly not in Gondor. So why then had the sparrow helped the Warg? And why had they left like that, giving up on prey that must have seemed so easy to take? And why did the sparrow follow them?

All of these questions and more spun through Legolas' head almost faster than he could keep up. Normally he might have followed the Wargs to destroy them and to find out the answers to the queries that plagued him but there were others that needed his immediate attention. Perhaps Faramir would let him hunt the Wargs and join them in Linhinenet later on that evening.

With those thoughts the elf removed his attention from the place where the enemy had been standing a moment ago and refocused it on the Steward, who was just now regaining control of his gelding. The other horses were calming down too now that their mortal enemies were gone, but they still shifted and looked around nervously from time to time.

Faramir looked around to make sure that everyone was alright and no one had been thrown or mauled. Seeing that the company was intact he met the gaze of the immortal.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes, but it was the manner in which they left that concerns me." Legolas could not keep the troubled look from his eyes, something Faramir picked up on immediately. "Tell me," he said.

Legolas's gaze flicked over to where the Wargs had been stalking them, then he looked back at the Steward. "I fired at the one that was the closest. At the last moment a sparrow dove out of the trees and flew into the Warg's head. It moved just far enough that my arrow missed. I drew another arrow to try again, but the Wargs– there were only three of them– ran off. What was the most strange though, was that after the sparrow hit the Warg," he shook his head and corrected himself, though the correct words seemed even more incredible than the incorrect ones, "saved the Warg, the bird started chirping as if it was admonishing the beast. Then all three Wargs ran off, and stranger still, the sparrow followed them."

Saying what he had seen troubled the elf even more than just thinking about it. It was a story no one in these times would believe. He wouldn't. Yet he was asking others to. With Aragorn he knew he would at least be given a chance to prove himself right, but Faramir didn't know him quite so well as Isildur's heir. Would he still be given that chance? Or would Faramir simply think him crazy or mistaken and order the company to move on?

Faramir hadn't seen what had happened. No one had, except the elf. All of the men had been consumed with the task of trying to keep the horses from bolting. The chaos had gone on without abating until the Wargs had left. Looking at the expression on the fair being's face he knew Legolas was serious. He also knew the elf well enough to know he wouldn't make up something like this in a situation such as they were in. Therefore he must have been mistaken. No sparrow would save the life of a Warg. The creature must simply have gotten too close to the bird's nest, and the avian was simply trying to protect its young by driving the Warg off. Yes, that was an answer the man could accept.

If he accepted the idea that a sparrow was helping Wargs he'd have to face a much more dire idea. That something far more dangerous than the Haradrim was out there, and its minions were finding their way deep into Gondorian territory without detection. That was something he did not wish to face without solid proof, and first he would have to deal with the threat in Linhinenet anyway.

"I do not doubt what you saw, Legolas," he said to the elf, who was waiting for his response. "I just think that bird may have been defending its territory rather than helping those Wargs. On our return to Minas Tirith we will spend some time tracking them to see if they are still anywhere in this area. I will also send a few riders to some of the nearby divisions to tell them Wargs have been sighted. If we don't find anything perhaps they will. For now though we must get moving if we are to reach the village before sunset." He looked at the rest of his men, who were waiting for his command. "We will move on. Stay on the alert in case those Wargs come back for another try at an attack."

With that he urged his horse onward. The rest of the company followed suit, keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

Legolas sat on a now placid Arod, simply staring unbelievingly at the Steward's retreating back, as the White Company moved around him back into formation to protect their lord. Watching the others move around him caused him to snap out of the stupor the Steward's dismissing words had put him in and he urged Arod forward. Weaving in between the White Company guards he came up next to Faramir, his face a mask of frustration and a hint of well-contained anger.

"So you will do nothing about it? Faramir I know you want the Haradrim out of Linhinenet but I know what I did and did not see. There was no nest." The Steward looked at him with a gaze that plainly said he should watch himself but the elf did not care. Something about this did not feel right and he learned long ago to trust such feelings. Still, an argument with Faramir would do nothing good so he softened up his tone merely so he and the man could communicate with reason rather than injured pride.

"I have watched birds defend their nests and their young many a time, and I'm telling you that that sparrow's behavior wasn't as innocent as that."

Faramir sighed, resigned to the knowledge that Legolas wouldn't let this go easily. "Fine then." He looked the elf in the eye and said with great but preoccupied patience, "What was it about that bird that has you so concerned?"

"He didn't simply dive at the Warg's head. Not the way birds do to simply drive a creature off. The dive was angled so the Warg would see him coming and move. He also actually struck the Warg as he passed like a falcon would. It looked as if he just wanted the Warg to move its head. And after that it hovered while it yelled at the beast. A bird protecting its nest would have dived multiple times to drive the Warg off, not once. The Warg seemed to listen to it also, because it stopped paying attention to us and its companions did the same. And the bird didn't harass them when it followed them. It also looked directly at me. Like it knew I was shooting at the Warg."

Legolas never took his eyes off of the Steward as he talked, trusting Arod to follow the horses in front of him and mind the road in case there were any holes or large rocks or other such obstacles that needed to be avoided. He understood the reason behind the man's caution, but he hoped Faramir would at least send a few men off now to warn the soldiers patrolling their assigned areas that there were Wargs close by that needed to be brought down.

"Please. At least either send a few men off now or let me go after them. I assure you I will make it to the village by sundown, whether I find them or not."

"No." Faramir didn't waste a moment answering that query. "I need you to aid us in getting through a part of the road further on that most likely will be plenty treacherous if I remember it correctly. And if it has changed much it likely will be for the worse." The Steward understood why the fair being did not want to waste any time in tracking down and hunting the canines, and normally he would have pursued them as well, yet current circumstances demanded he turn his attention elsewhere for the next two days at least. What Legolas said was disturbing, and definitely needed to be looked into, but it could wait.

Linhinenet couldn't.

"I share your concern, son of Thranduil, but this can wait two days. The patrols assigned this area will pursue the Wargs if they spot them. And there is enough large game around that I don't think they will go after people. We probably just came upon them as they were hunting so they decided to hunt us. It's happened before. We are needed elsewhere and have a job to do. We can't be sidetracked, or we could reach our destination to find a massacre."

Legolas' eyes burned and he almost visibly bristled with anger. The last two times he had given such a warning to someone he had been ignored or told that something else was of more concern.

The first incident had ended with the Fellowship getting chased out of Moria by orcs and losing Gandalf to a Balrog; one of the few remaining demons of Morgoth that still dwelled in Arda. Perhaps it was even the last of its kind, but they had lost Gandalf to it all the same: because they had lingered too long in Balin's tomb, though he had advised Aragorn that they should move on.

The second had been in Parth Galen. He had sensed a growing shadow and warned Aragorn that they should move to the eastern shore, though his friend's response had been that orcs patrolled there. In the end the Fellowship had been divided, Merry and Pippin captured by Uruk-hai, and Boromir slain from arrow wounds he had received trying to save the two hobbits as Aragorn, himself, and Gimli fought to reach him.

Twice he had warned someone that he sensed danger and they should hearken to it. Twice his warnings had gone unheeded. Twice it had ended with pain and heartache and grief. Twice he had not insisted that someone listen to him. Not again.

This time he would at least put up as much of a fight as he could without being insubordinate that someone would listen. Even if that someone happened to hold the princedom of Ithilien and the position of Steward of Gondor, thus making them his superior as far as social status went in this kingdom. Right now it mattered not to him. What did matter was that this warning wouldn't be followed by someone close to him dying, and everyone else being sent into a pit of grief.

"Faramir I hope just as much as you do that those Wargs don't have any motive greater than hunting for being here but what if they do? They would still have to hunt and humans and elves are seen as game to them. It's probably the only reason we saw them. But since they didn't get us they'll go after something else. Once they make their kill they will avoid being seen and may never be found. Be that so this might be our only chance to stop them. They may have even obtained their objective already and could be leaving. Two days may be too long."

Faramir had had enough. No, the Elf was not sworn into his service and therefore had more freedom of debate where his decisions were concerned. The fact that he was also a Lord of Gondor and a prince of a foreign land cemented this detail. At the same time though he was still a member of the company he was marching with. A company that was under Faramir's command. And while under his command, Legolas was bound to obey him, whether he agreed or not. He would have to draw the line as to how far the debates with the woodland being could go. He decided they had gone too far.

He turned his own angry glare at the elf and said in a cool and definitive voice, "You are not going after them Legolas. No one is. Not now. That is my final answer. Either you comply with that or I will bring you up on charges of insubordination when we get back to Minas Tirith. Understand?"

"Yes," Legolas growled, letting his anger and frustration into his voice to let the Steward know exactly what his opinion of that decision was.

Wheeling Arod around, he pushed past the men of the White Company and galloped back the way they had come, causing the other soldiers to pull their horses out of his way as fast as they could to avoid a collision. Not that one would have happened, for the elf was far too good a rider, but nevertheless it cleared a path for him quite effectively.

Faramir bit back several horrible curses that would put a pirate to shame and yanked his gelding to a short stop, turning him so he could watch the elf. The rest of the company, which had wisely tried to continue on and not engage or acknowledge in any possible way the battle of wills that was taking place, was forced to stop as well.

Beregond as well had stayed out of it but was now beginning to see that this mission was in no way going to be easy. Not with Faramir and Legolas clashing as they were. Silently he prayed to Iluvatar or any of the Valar that would listen that the elf would not follow the Wargs' path into the woods. If that happened he didn't know if he could stop Faramir from following the elf and starting a physical confrontation or having him arrested.

Legolas didn't look back as he halted Arod at the edge of the road, closest to where the Wargs had been. Purposefully he dismounted and walked into the foliage. Faramir's eyes darkened, Beregond prayed harder and the rest of the company seemed to hold their breath.

Their fears were proved unfounded however, as Legolas simply walked up to the tree his arrow was lodged into and with a swift, efficient tug pulled the arrow free and replaced it in his quiver after inspecting it to ensure it was undamaged. He then calmly walked back to the road, looking up into the trees for a moment, as if searching for something. He reached Arod's side and in less time than it took to blink an eye was remounted. With dignity and utmost grace he trotted back to the front of the company as if he had proven a point and had no more business associating with any of them. The action all but vocally dared the Steward to make a comment in regards to what he had just done.

Faramir was seething and he sought to burn a hole into the fair being with his wrathful eyes, to no avail. Legolas merely retaliated with his own ire-filled regard.

"You are pushing it elf," Faramir spat the word out as the slur it was. "I could have you thrown in the dungeons for that and even Elessar would be forced to agree that I am justified in my actions."

"You would cage me simply for retrieving my arrow?" Legolas knew he walked a thin line but he had been pushed too far to care. He didn't need to be here, he was volunteering his services to aid his friend's people. And despite Faramir having some jurisdiction over him the Steward did not own him. He could leave if he so chose and he could do so with the knowledge that even if Faramir did call him on it he had just as much chance of winning his case as Faramir did.

"I would cage you simply because you took deliberate action to show that my commands mean little to you and that you would rebel against them simply because they contradict with your own wishes!" Faramir put every bit of authority and force of command he could into reining in the elf, though few there were that could do so when said elf didn't want to be reined in, and right now he didn't want to be restrained– he wanted to fight. So he did.

"And I would remind you that my presence here is voluntary. If I decide to leave you can't stop me. We can take the matter up with Aragorn if you'd like but you'd still have to find a way to deal with the Haradrim on your own. I stay now only because I promised Aragorn I'd see to it that you come back to the city as unharmed as possible, but continue to disregard and ignore my aid and I will leave. You can be sure of that." Legolas was tired of always being either overlooked as an inconsequential fighting machine or stared at like some ghost of legend or mistrusted simply for being different from others by race. He was also not some tool to be used and then discarded, and he was not going to stand for being treated as such. Not here anyways.

"Watch it, Legolas, lest you go too far. You may be here of your own will but while you are with this company you are under my command, and you will obey that command."

Beregond knew this was going nowhere except a physical fight followed by a civil war between North and South Ithilien and quite possibly a war with the Woodland Realm as well. He had no desire to step anywhere near the two extremely irate people in front of him, quite the opposite actually, but for the sake of peace and completing their journey before sundown he found he had no choice. No one else was going to do this and of all of the soldiers present he had the best chance of getting through to the Steward.

Praying that looks would not suddenly gain the power to kill within the next few moments, and that he'd live through what he was about to do, he urged his horse towards the two verbal combatants. The mare fidgeted, picking up on his nervousness, playing with her bit and bobbing her head. He ignored her as he came into Legolas' notice and the elf's eyes shifted to watch him.

Faramir noticed the elf's eyes stop focusing on him and, stopping his current dialogue, turned to see what the blonde being found to be so much more interesting than their little confrontation. When he saw the captain of his personal guard he gave him a look that said loud and clear that his reason for interrupting them had better be good.

Beregond forced his mouth to open and his vocal chords to work properly, desperately fighting the urge to run away. The gaze Legolas turned on him wasn't half as bad as the one he had been giving Faramir. His quarrel was with the Steward not the captain. The son of Denethor, on the other hand, wore a visage that was barely under control, and Beregond feared that one wrong word could cause the man to unleash all of his fury at him. That was something he did not want.

"Forgive me my lord, but if we wish to join our comrades by sundown we must go now, or else we will have to traverse the trail by dark." Thank sweet Eru his voice had come out as he had wanted it to, matter-of-fact and strong.

Faramir took a deep breath and willed himself to let the anger drain out of him. Beregond was right. They had delayed far too long. Curse the elf for making things difficult. Because of their confrontation they would arrive probably at least an hour later than originally expected, and every moment was precious in preparing themselves and correctly evaluating the situation once they got there.

"Yes Beregond, you are right. We will move on." Somehow his voice came out calm and collected, not ire-filled and clipped.

As the company began to move off, the pace even quicker to make up for lost time, Faramir guided his gelding closer to Arod. Leaning towards the elf, he said, "We aren't finished yet Legolas. We will continue this when the time is more opportune."

"Come find me and we will," was the reply.

"I won't find you, I'll call you, or send one of my men to bring you." One way or another, the elf would learn to follow under his lead when circumstance called for him to. Otherwise his decisions and commands may as well be up for debate to all of his warriors.

"And if I don't come?"

"You will if you don't want this to escalate further than it already has."

"It is only escalating because I am trying to stop you from making a mistake. Which, by the way, you seem determined to make anyway!" Legolas was tired of this. Faramir and he were friends, if not the closest of which. Arguing with the man was not something he had set out to do, though if things kept going the way they did he and Faramir would argue for some time yet.

All he wanted was that someone would for once not wave him off when he tried to help. Perhaps he should just stop giving people warnings. Maybe if he told them after the fact he could get it through to them that such premonitions could be of actual use and that he gave them for a reason, not just for the sake of using his vocal chords.

In any case, fighting with the Steward was getting him nowhere except a dark, damp, underground cell. He had given Faramir a more extensive warning than anyone else in the recent past. Now it was up to the Steward. Either he would take it and put it to such good use as he could, or he wouldn't.

"I do not wish to fight with you Faramir. If you truly wish to wait to go after the Wargs, then go ahead. I can't stop you. I just hope you don't come to regret it later." Legolas' voice was soft, his countenance one of sorrow and perhaps a hint of pity. Or maybe fear. Fear that he should have pursued the Wargs when he had the chance and because he hadn't, things might become far worse than the son of Denethor bringing him up on insubordination charges later on.

Faramir turned away, refocusing on guiding his horse. In truth he had not expected Legolas to give up the fight like that. To be completely honest he would not have been surprised if that night he found himself fighting southmen, ordering the attack or counterattack and arguing heatedly with the elven prince all at the same time.

Another truth was that he was still mad at the Lord of South Ithilien , but at the same time he had no wish to start a feud with him either. The friendship he had been building with the elf, though a fledgling one, was something he wanted to continue building, not the other way around. And it would be counter productive to try and maintain a dispute with Legolas since they would need to work together for this one-night campaign to run and conclude itself as smoothly as he hoped it would. So for the sake of their young friendship and to make their lives tonight a lot easier, he decided to let the issue go as well.

"I have no wish to argue with you either, Legolas. But realize that I also cannot simply do what I please right now. If I could I would have gone after those Wargs before you could have given me a warning. But I can't. Not until the Haradrim are out of Linhinenet. I promise you, as soon as the town is secure and the southmen gone we will go after the Wargs. The hobbits will simply have to wait for that feast of theirs."

Legolas laughed as he imagined the looks on Merry and Pippins' faces when they heard that they would have to wait to formally gorge themselves until a trio of Mordor wolves were slain.

"Truly 'twill be a sore blow to them. I only hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive us." Legolas eyes gleamed with joy now that they had reached a truce and could spend the rest of the trip in idle conversation rather than bickering.

Now it was Faramir's turn to laugh, also glad for the returned comradery. "Indeed. We shall have to find some way to make it up to them."

Legolas seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then gave the Steward a mischievous look.

"Shall we give them the beasts' skins for atonement?"

Faramir grinned as wickedly and mischievously as the fair haired being riding next to him. The thought of Merry and Pippins' faces when they were presented with three mostly-intact Warg hides was enough for him to want to go along with Legolas' scheme.

"Definitely," he nodded. "If not for their reaction then for Aragorn's."

Legolas' smile went from being mischievous to devilish, and he cocked his head to the side. "But how to keep Arwen from seeing them? I doubt very much that she will allow such pelts to grace her home. In fact I'm certain she won't."

"So am I," Faramir agreed solemnly before the smug grin returned to his face. "But I think I have a way around that."

Several strides to their left, Beregond sighed almost imperceptively as he tried not to listen to his lord and the elf discuss how they were going to get three Warg pelts into the two hobbits' rooms without detection. At least they weren't fighting anymore. Personally he wasn't sure he wouldn't have gone insane trying to carry out his duties with his commander and the company's night eyes at each other's throats.

Once, on one of the early missions he had been sent on before being assigned to guard the Citadel, Faramir had gotten into an argument with his brother, Boromir. Beregond had ended up playing messenger between the two lords, since neither would talk with the other. It had been a nightmare that lasted for several weeks and he had only been too glad to return to the city and get away from the two.

The thought of repeating the experience again didn't please him in the slightest. So it was with much gratitude to the Valar that he settled into the relative peace that once again stole over the group, though none let their guard down. For all the ease they presented to the world they never stopped keeping the sharpest lookout for Wargs, Haradrim, and any other enemy that could come their way.

Erd was in a very foul mood. He had sent one of the pigeons back to Parth Galen to inform his master of the fine details he'd need to properly set up Faramir's capture. He had then followed the company the entire way so any changes in the plans for the confrontation with the Haradrim would be known to them. Then, when the requested forces arrived, they could make the necessary adjustments. It was all going so well.

'Was' had then become the key word. The spy knew his master would send his soldiers as quickly as possible. Yet he had told them to wait in the forests opposite a clearing that one of his fellow spy's had found about three miles north of Linhinenet. He had told them he did not need anyone to be sent to aid him. They had not listened.

The crow who had been assigned to be his second-in-command had sent him assistance, and it had not been welcome.

He first saw three mangy-looking crows approach and dive into the woods opposite to his side of the road. To keep them from crossing the road, and making the men and elf suspicious, he had been forced to make the crossing himself. To make sure the company did not look into the woods he flew in front of the captain of the White Company, spooking his horse and hopefully drawing attention away from himself. He did not look back to see if it worked. He had been trying to find his unexpected and unwanted companions.

He had gone through the canopy of the immediate area when he saw them below him, stalking the men on the road. This could not be allowed. The company was to reach the farming village without attack so they would be unassuming during the Haradrim battle when their beloved Steward was taken from them. He had to stop them. From what he could hear the horses had already come upon the scent of Warg, and were well on their way to panic. At least the men would be too hard pressed in their endeavor not to be thrown to attack them, unlike elves, who–

The sparrow would have frozen if it would not have caused him to fall. He could feel his icy stomach plummet sickeningly. Oh Manwe.... the elf!

Erd whirled around as fast as he could, looking through a break in the leaves to see the elf aim his arrow at one of the foul wolves, probably the one closest to the road. The small bird twisted around again, and pumped his wings as hard as he could. He had about a hundredth of a second at most to stop a tragedy from occurring. A tragedy for him anyways.

Snapping his wings in close to his sides he plummeted downwards, gravity lending him speed. It was a hunting tactic that was mostly responsible for the fame and popularity enjoyed by the peregrine falcons. Slight adjustments to the position of his wings allowed him to angle the dive so the Warg would see him in its peripheral vision and reflexively move its head– the only clear target it presented the immortal archer that was even now trying to end its life.

He didn't have anywhere near the room to build up the amount of speed he would have liked. Even so he hoped it would be enough that he would be able to get himself out of the path of the steel-tipped missile that he was currently trying to out-fly.

Hoped. Not knew. Hoped. Unlike the falcons his experience in this kind of attack was limited. Sparrows were not exactly designed for stooping as the Falconiformes were. They could mimic it, but they would never be able to use such a maneuver half as effectively as the raptors did.

To ensure he gained the maximum speed he could with what little space he had to work with, he kept his eyes on his goal and resisted the powerful desire to see where the arrow was. He neared his companion, heard the whistle-like shriek of the arrow as the tremendous poundage of the elf's bow hurled it like a lightning bolt from a thundercloud.

At the very last second he swung his weight to the side, avoiding striking the Warg head-on. As he passed he saw to his great relief and satisfaction that the canine's head did move. Yet to be sure it moved enough and in part to take out some of his anger at it he slashed at it. The claw on the backwards facing toe of his left foot caught in the beast's flesh, right above its eye. Hooking it in and not slowing anymore than he had to he let it rake across the Warg's face, slicing open a nice grove over its eye.

The creature snarled and jerked its head further towards the ground. Ripping his claw free, Erd snapped open his wings and fanned his feathers as far as they could go, arching his back and spreading his tail to create as much drag as he could. With effort he managed to level off his flight and break out of the dive so he could wing back up above the massive jaws of his compatriots.

He learned long ago never to put it past a Warg to snap at someone, even its rider. Few people had earned exemption from this rule. The Ringwraiths were among those. So was Sauron, defeated thought they all were. In the past he had not considered his master as one of these select few. However as time had passed and the human had unlocked and mastered more and more dark spells and grown in cruelty that had changed.

Now the Wargs were so terrified of their leader those off duty often slunk away from his mere presence simply out of a desire to keep from angering him and being used as test subjects for new and untried spells. Or simply as target practice for learned ones. Those on duty could only perform at maximum efficiency and pray to Morgoth that they would not be seen shivering in fear.

Erd, on the other hand, was not amongst these. True, he served a master of the dark arts, but that was only for his own purposes. The original Dark Lord himself would never hold the sparrow's allegiance. This he hid well, for if such information were to leak out his master would simply skin him alive as a possible traitor with no warning and no questions asked. No amount of pleading would do him any good either. Yet he could not escape the fact that it meant that he would never be able to work with the Wargs and not expect several attempts on his life.

Once he was out of the lethal jaw's range he started screaming in his native language. Normally he would have promptly given the three as brutal a dressing-down as he was able. With the men and elf still around he could in no way speak in their tongues. Not unless he himself wanted to be the master's latest victim. Nevertheless he managed to get the message across.

All three Wargs had stopped glaring at him as they had done since he had arrived and slunk away through the trees, back the way they had come. He had followed them to ensure they actually followed orders this time, since he knew for sure they would not do so of their own accord. Before leaving, however he had sent a glare in the direction of the elf, who had been gazing at him in disbelief. Now he finally found out the reason they had come looking for him in the first place, and it was not one he had expected.

His master had come with his forces.

Erd had sighted the man the moment he had entered the clearing he had wanted them to wait for him in. The Wargs and he could travel much faster and with less inhibitions than the Steward's company could. It was thus that in only a couple hour's time they found themselves at their own destination long before their prey would reach his.

Erd's initial reaction was one of fear. Had he done something wrong? Was he going to die now? No. He couldn't have. He had followed the man's directions to the letter. Therefore there had to be another reason for his appearance here. But what?

The skeletal-faced man seemed to anticipate his reaction, for he answered the small avian's query before he could ask it. Even as the bird landed and executed a perfect bow in front of him. His smooth and seductive tenor rang out against the soft, cold breeze that seemed to blow whenever he was near.

"I have decided to come early. I trust things are going well?"

"Things are going very well, my lord." Erd truly was grateful in a way. Now he could be sure they would not miss their opportunity when it came. At the same time however the pressure he was under to succeed had now increased a thousandfold. With his master around the room for mistakes was far less, and he rather fancied having his flesh intact. Now only one question remained that he would dare ask the man.

"Sire, should I not return now to learn of the Steward's final plans for tonight? Without that knowledge the abduction will be far more difficult and the margin for failure all the greater." He made sure his voice was humble and completely inferior-sounding, and he kept his eyes on the ground. Only when he succeeded in a mission did he ever find he had the courage to look his master in the eye.

"Yes, pathetic bird. You should. I only sent for you so you'd know I was here," the skeletal-faced man sneered.

"Very well. I shall return for the others when they are needed." Truly the sparrow hated being addressed in such a manner, yet he could not talk back without being destroyed in one of the most horrible ways imaginable. Neither for that matter could he leave without his master's permission, for the result of such an action would yield the same for him.

So all he could do was simply bow and take off into the air. As he flew back to where he had last left Faramir's company he wondered again why he worked for such a horrible person. Foolish bird, you know why. Focus on your task.

He seemed to be asking himself that a lot lately, something he shouldn't do if he wanted to live. Yet as all people do at least once in their lives he couldn't help but wonder what might have been if things hadn't turned out as they had. Not that he could go back in time, but still this was not exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd joined his master's ranks.

Fifteen minutes of swift flight along the road later he found the company and resumed his work, settling into the routine he had developed and listening to the Steward and the elf plan an interesting joke involving leaving three Warg skins in two of the hobbit's rooms and how they were to smuggle the pelts in without anyone's notice. If he weren't part of an equally elaborate scheme to capture the Steward he might have taken a trip over to the White City to observe such undertakings. They certainly sounded amusing. Too bad the two would never get to put their joke into action if his master's endeavor worked.

Instead of traveling the last ten miles to the crossing where the River Erui met the South Road, the company turned aside and entered the woods, travelling in a more westerly direction. Here the going was much slower, fir most people traveling to Linhinenet continued on to the crossing and then followed the river upstream to the village. Very few people took the route the company took now, and the road had deteriorated to little more than a vague trail.

Still it was traversable, so long as they traveled single file. Faramir dared not ride along the river, for it would alert the Haradrim to their presence and could leave them open to attack. The dilapidated trail was treacherous in some places. Sudden drop offs and loose sand forced them to dismount and lead the horses on foot much of the time. Low branches, thick patches of thorn bush, and hidden holes in the ground forced a slow pace and a sharp eye.

Warnings were called down the column as new hazards were discovered. Because of the forced pace it took the company a good three hours to go the last twelve or so miles. The weapons, tents, and other baggage the men carried with them did nothing to help matters.

Legolas, traveling with Faramir and Beregond at the front, became something of an advanced warning system for the rest. He would scout and test out the trail ahead of everyone else, inform them of all they needed to know about the path and what was the safest route to take, then move on as they negotiated it behind him. A few times the trail proved to be completely unnegotiable for the horses and at that point he would have had to search for another way. Every time he would then have to get them back on the former road.

In the end they managed to emerge from the path with only minor mishaps– dropped packs, a slip or fall onto ones hands and knees here and there. Upon emerging from the forest, they came into an area that consisted of a ten mile long, five mile wide strip of open fields alongside the river. The village was nestled amongst the crop fields three mile upstream from where they left the forest. Most of the open space was used for crops by the farmers, who left the town early to tend the fields by day and returned to the village at night. The community was designed to provide anything its people would need since it was a secluded area and the nearest town was about twenty miles away, through wild brush and twisting deer trails.

Beyond the strip of open land there was nothing but forest with the exception of the road built alongside the Erui. Across the Erui to the southwest was a thirty mile expanse of grassland. This was used by the villagers to graze their sheep and horses. The animals had been moved to the north shore of the river due to the arrival of the Haradrim.

About two hundred and fifty southmen were camped a mile from the banks opposite the town. A mile east of the town were camped the forces of Gondor. Soldiers in the camp saw the awaited reinforcements arrive almost the same time the sentries did. Three from the camp were sent to ride out and meet the newcomers.

One of them, a Lieutenant by the badge he wore, took the lead in welcoming the Steward and his captain. "Hail, Faramir, and his captain! The aid you bring us has been eagerly anticipated. I trust your journey was without much difficulty?" He saluted the Steward as he called out his greeting.

Faramir returned the salute, bringing his gelding to a halt in the process directly in front of the lieutenant's horse. "A neglected trail and a trio of Wargs were our only challenges we faced, and they did not impede us overmuch. Tell me what the latest news is of those that camp in opposition to us across the river, or what news information of them you know. Then take me to your captain so I may speak with him regarding our course of action."

"First, if I may sir inquire if any were injured by the wolves of Sauron. 'Tis distressing news that they once again have ventured into our lands, though naught have I heard of them until now." As any intelligent person would be, the young man was disturbed by the thought of Wargs in Gondor once again. Indeed to all of them it seemed that every time they removed all of the foul wolves from their land they would simply wait a while and then come back as if to spite them.

"None were injured and I thank you for your concern. There were only three of them. I'm afraid though that this topic will have to wait until the human threat to our people is eliminated. I'll ask again, what of the Haradrim?" Faramir could tell that evening was approaching. The time for discussion and strategizing was short. Learning what he could of the situation while traversing the mile of fields that lay between them and the camp would make the council go much faster.

From what information I have been given the enemy is stationary." As he spoke the young man turned his horse around and began to lead them towards the camp. He gave Faramir all the information he had, though it was for the most part basic. "They camp as they have for the past two weeks. No new forces have come, nor have any left. Their guards change in two hour cycles, and they have scouted the area on that side of the river. They don't come across it and they don't ever try to make contact. They act as if we aren't even here. Our captains have adopted the same policy until you arrived."

The soldier, who couldn't have been more than twenty-three, clearly didn't know what to do in such a situation and by the look on his face was now expecting his commanders to fix it; and he wouldn't be the only one. Faramir remembered all too well feeling that way fighting Sauron's forces years ago when he had first been promoted to lieutenant by his commander.

"It matters not whether they choose to ignore us or not. They are not welcome here and we will not ignore them. One way or another they will leave." Faramir only hoped he could meet the expectations placed on him. At the very least he would try.

His determined face and soft words were taken to heart by the lieutenant and his companions, encouraging them, giving them hope, as they were meant to do. As they spoke the camp drew closer until they found themselves trotting into it, past grateful-looking soldiers sitting outside their tents and looking as if they were ready and willing should their commanders only give the word.

The steward drew his horse to a stop and looked around as if searching for something or someone. His gaze settled on a tall man with dark hair and a narrow face sitting in a loose circle eating a late lunch, as they had just come back from scouting. Emmar was his name, and he had served under Faramir for seven years. The Steward had dispatched him with some of his other troops to lend their aid at the border, and subsequently he had ended up camped with the rest outside of Linhinenet.

"Emmar!"

Emmar looked up from his meal, and quickly put it down and stood when he saw who addressed him, a relieved and joyful expression on his face at the sight of his lord and the reinforcements he brought. "See to it that these men are given a place to pitch their tents and picket their horses, and get some people together to help them," Faramir motioned to the two hundred men sitting quietly on their horses behind him.

"Yes, sir. Right away."

Faramir noticed he sounded a bit disappointed as he saluted sharply and then walked off, calling several people to him. He was wondering what had caused the scout to behave that way when he spied the almost full plat of food the man had left behind. No wonder. Emmar always did hate it when people interrupted his meal. Especially since he's always the last to eat.

He cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, "Emmar!"

The dark haired scout turned back to his superior. "Yes, my lord?"

Faramir smiled and shouted back at him, "Find some men to help them and then go back to your meal!"

Emmar grinned, reminded that his commander liked to get to know his troops as well as he could so he could work better with them. It was something he was right now grateful for. He had barely eaten all day and even now was beginning to feel nauseous from his stomach's complaining. "With pleasure my lord."

Faramir nodded, then turned to Beregond and Legolas. The two had been about to ride off with the rest, who were now dismounted and following the Emmar and the men who had come to help him. "Wait." He continued when both turned and focused their attention on him. "Beregond, I'll need you to sit in on this meeting so you can aid me in stationing the men, and Legolas we have to tell the person in charge that you're here and then we'll need you to go scout the Haradrim for us. When you get back we'll need you to help us come up with a course of action."

The elf and captain nodded and moved closer to Faramir. All three dismounted and handed the horses off to three soldiers who had come up to take them and care for them while their riders saw to their own responsibilities.

The three were led to the tent of the commander in charge of the camp. Mennel was his name, and he had fought on the southern borders with the Haradrim for twenty years before being called to Minas Tirith to help defend the city against Sauron's forces. After the war he had stayed in the city for awhile, resting, visiting with friends and family he had not seen in many years. But many of his comrades still fought in the south, and he found that peace meant little to him while people he had fought alongside for so long still remained in danger. Thus it was that he had decided to return to the border and take up again his position there, though his family had been sorrowed to hear it.

They had understood in the end, and he had promised to return more often if he was able. Now, however, he was like many others stuck in this remote area, in a standoff with the very people he had set off to fight, though not anywhere near the location were he was supposed to fight them. It had shocked and dismayed him to find that their enemies had managed to get this many of their number so far into Gondor's territory, but their behavior worried him more than anything else. If he thought about it carefully enough, the southmen behaved almost as decoys.

All they did was set up camp and stay there. They knew that Gondor wouldn't ignore so many of her enemies so far inside her borders. It was as if they merely wanted to keep the last remnant of Numinor focused on them so it would fail to notice something else. That disturbed Mennel the most, and he determined when first he noticed it that he would bring it to his superior's attention when he arrived. He sat in his tent pondering what could be done about it when footsteps sounded outside and the tent flap was pulled aside.

The young lieutenant who stuck his head in looked too happy for one who had been told that his commander was not to be disturbed unless Faramir arrived with the reinforcements. Does that mean they are here? He hoped so, but instead of asking that out loud he simply asked another question. One he thought sounded more authoritative. "What is it Faron?"

Though he supplemented the question with a look that said he was not in the least bit thrilled to be disturbed, the young man didn't seem troubled by it at all. "Faramir and his reinforcements have arrived. He wishes to meet with you to plan a course of action regarding the Haradrim. Shall I let him in or tell him you do not wish to see him now?"

Fifteen years ago Mennel might have given a snort and a sharp tongued retort to such a foolish question, but he was now too old and too mature for that. Still it was tempting. Except for the minor detail that there had been more than one person walking up to his tent. He had distinctly heard three, which meant that Faramir himself and most likely the captain of his personal guard were standing outside as well and would hear it if he made a sarcastic retort.

Not in the least bit interested in humiliating himself in front of his captain and others, he bit back the sarcasm that had been building on the tip of his tongue and answered with words and a tone of voice more fitting to his station. "Yes, Faron, you may let him in, and whoever is out there with him. Then you may go back to your duties and make sure no one bothers us unless the Haradrim finally do something."

Faron nodded and ducked his head back outside. Mennel heard him tell Faramir and his companion they could enter and Faramir thanking him. Then he heard footsteps moving away from the tent as the canvas doorway was once again lifted open.

Mennel stood and made as if to salute when he stopped short. Faramir and his captain he expected, but not the third person who entered his tent. He had not even heard him approach, and he was considered to have very good hearing amongst his men. On a second look he realized that he was not even looking at a human. The person's face was far too light skinned and fair, his hair glimmered like a pale river of gold, his eyes almost glowed in the dim light, and he couldn't tell if they were grey or blue. Or maybe they were both. What really set him apart from the two men he stood next to were his ears. Instead of rounded as a human's were, they ended in a graceful point, making them look more leaf-shaped.

Mennel had seen elves before, but never quite this close up. He was awed for the being in front of him emitted a soft light of his own, making him look like something out of a legend. But that was only part of it. What intrigued him the most was the ageless look of the elf. If he were human Mennel would pin him at being no older than twenty-three. He knew, however, from the legends he had heard, that elves were unable to die from old age or illness, and that they typically lived to be thousands of years old. The prospect alone that the being in front of him may have fought against Sauron's forces with the Last Alliance and the legendary figures associated with it increased his awe even more.

He managed somehow to complete his salute, though his gaze flicked over to the elf far more often than he liked. "My lord, welcome. Perhaps now we can finally send these desert renegades limping back to were they should be."

Faramir came forward to shake the man's hand. "Not perhaps, commander, we will send them limping home from whence they came. From the reaction my men and I have gotten so far I assume the tension has grown considerably since help was sent for."

"Yes it has," Mennel nodded. "The situation has become like a staring contest that will not end, and some are becoming quite frustrated by it. Myself included I must honestly say."

"I don't blame you. But the time of frustration is over, now that we are here. But before we decide what to do with our unwanted guests you must tell us everything– down to the last detail– that they have done so far. All we have heard is that their numbers remain the same, they change their guards every two hours, they scout the south side of the river, they don't try to make contact and generally ignore that we even exist." If Gondor was going to get out of this quickly and smoothly its commanders would need far more detailed information than that, and the less Legolas had to figure out for them, the quicker they could begin to strategize against their southern enemies.

Mellel raised his eyebrows and shrugged in a hopeless manner. "As of now that's all we really do know. There's only one thing that I can add to it, something I've kept from the men because I can't prove it and because I don't need any more wild rumors flying around than there are already. This morning I overheard one of the younger soldiers saying that the Haradrim were here to take over peoples minds with dark powers they got from serving Sauron."

Faramir resisted the urge to role his eyes. Crazy rumors always circulated whenever there was a significant period of little or no activity in military camps. Though it did give the warriors something to do to alleviate their boredom, ninety percent of the time the rumors had little to no solid fact in them. As far as he and the other commanders knew, Sauron had only promised the Haradrim Gondor and supplies to aid them in their campaign, nothing else. No evidence to show they had received anything other than weapons and basic supplies had ever come to light. "What is it that you noticed, Mennel?" he asked.

Mennel looked at Beregond and Legolas as if undecided as to whether he should ask Faramir to order them to leave. For the sake of keeping it from the men he thought perhapse he should only share it with Faramir. What the elf and guard would do with it he knew not, and this made him reluctant to share it with them around.

Faramir took note of his hesitation and how his reluctance to share the information seemed to be caused by the fact that the Steward wasn't the only one receiving his carefully guarded knowledge. To avoid this causing future delays he decided that now was a good time to explain his captain's and Legolas' presence there. "You may say anything in front of my companions. I asked Beregond to come to this council so he may as my second in command better help the two of us to employ our forces more effectively. The elf is Legolas, who is one of the Fellowship of the Ring. King Elessar asked him to come with us to aid in trying to uncover the southmens' reason for not attacking thus far and determining the best way to remove them. He will be present at most if not all of our councils so he will now exactly what is taking place and will best be able to help us."

Mennel had heard that elves had greater senses than humans but nothing more than that. Thus he was unconvinced that this elf could learn more about the enemy than his own men had been able to. "And just how is he to help us? There is no cover near the Haradrim camp and their guards are too observant, he would never get past them. They would shoot him down the moment he came within their range. Even if he did get into their camp you would not be able to find out much since amongst their own kin they will not use the common tongue, if they even know it at all. How could he find out from this side of the river more than my scouts have? Unless he knows the enemy's tongue and you plan to send him on such a suicide mission anyways."

All three bristled at the commander's words. Mennel was border lining on insulting his king's judgement in sending Legolas to help them, and Faramir would not tolerate that from anyone except perhaps a select few. Legolas felt his ire raise a few notches at being spoken around like he was some inanimate object. Beregond as well was angered that the commander would treat one of the legendary Nine Walkers thus.

Mennel noticed their faces all bore a darker expression than they had a few moments ago, and started to think that perhaps he had spoken a bit too rashly. Legolas was about to step forward and set the man straight when Faramir put his arm in front of the elf to keep him back so he wouldn't go eyeball to eyeball with the commander and scare him half to death. Considering the human had never had dealings with one of the eldar this was well within the elven prince's ability. And not something they needed right now. Fixing his own highly unamused glare on Mennel he gave him his own censoring. "Elessar would not have sent him if he could not contribute more information than your own scouts have already and you would do well to watch your tongue lest you insult the king in my presence."

His voice was a low growl and its intensity combined with the anger on Faramir's face was alone enough to make Mennel realize his mistake and started to stammer an apology. Faramir waved his hand to cut him off. "Forget saying you're sorry, just see to it that it doesn't happen again. Now tell us what it is you haven't told the men.

Upon hearing Mennel's suspicions regarding the southmens' behavior, they all found themselves wearing grim expressions. Additional threats from the Haradrim inside Gondor was a thought no one welcomed. For now, though, all they could do was eliminate this decoy, if that's what it really was, and try to find out as much about their enemy's reason for undertaking this venture as they could in the process.

In the end they all decided that the only thing they could do for now was to brief Legolas on everything the scouts knew about the area and the enemy's own scouting activity and send him off to try and gather as much additional information on the Haradrim as they could while Faramir and his men settled and the rest merely went about their business as they had for the previous fortnight. When the woodland prince returned, the final plans would be laid, and the Haradrim engaged one way or another.

TBC....

Sorry to end this abruptly but I'm on a time limit. I have to leave to go camping shortly and I'm not even fully packed! Panic attack major! Anyway I wasn't originally going to end this chapter when I did but once again RL decided to intervene. At least it will make the next chapter even longer. I will hopefully have that one out around the twenty-fifth or sixth. Due to a stressed and less-than-amused mother I will also not be able to get in review responses this time around but will put them in the next chapter. I'm going to sign off now with a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed. Without you this would not be out until the twenty-fifth or sixth. Reviews make me post sooner and keep the creativity juices at maximum so..... (gives irresistible Puss in Boots eyes) please review!