"The stone has been what?" the Dwarf shouted furiously, his face turning as red as his beard, "How? When?" Gimli's rantings trailed off into a stream of infuriated dwarvish curses. Aragorn didn't need to understand what he said to discern the words meanings.

"Yes Gimli, the stone has been stolen." Gandalf said wearily, "And let me tell you it was no mean feat to even find that out in the first place."

Aragorn stared sharply at him, "And why was that, friend?"

The wizard sighed. "There are some properties of the stone that the dwarves don't want anyone to know about." Gandalf said quietly, "And even they know very little regarding the power themselves." Gandalf hesitated, as if he were contemplating revealing a great and terrible secret.

After a moment, Gimli, who hadn't seen the concern flicker over Aragorn's face, impatiently asked, "Well? Are you going to tell us what this power is, or stand there and ponder all day?"

Gandalf's face remained grave, but he looked at the man and dwarf standing before him. "The stone itself has many mysterious and dangerous powers, this I am sure of. But the ones that have stolen it know of its darkest secrets." Both the man and dwarf leaned forward unconsciously.

"The thieves have uncovered the stone's ability to read and control minds of men, dwarves, and orc alike." Gandalf paused, "The stone also has the ability to kill, with no physical contact." Both Gimli and Aragorn stood still for a moment, while they slowly realized the weight of the information imparted to them.

"You say it can kill?" Aragorn said quietly, trepidation making him hesitate, "How many? How many could die?"

"I know not exactly," said the wizard, "For it depends on the strength of its wielder. But a rough estimate for an ordinary man, with no unnatural abilities, would be several hundred."

Gimli gasped, fear widening his eyes. "How is it that something so powerful remained so hidden for so long?" His voice was hoarse, "Why did the dwarves not learn the secret of the stone long ago, when it was first discovered?"

"Because Gimli, they did not know the extent of the power when the possessed the stone. Unfortunately, the ones who stole the Arkenstone did." Gandalf gave a heavy sigh and looked away, white hair falling across his forehead. "The ones who stole the stone were elves Gimli. Elves."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Legolas looked up. The shadow of the forest of Lorien had smothered the light that had been warming his face, and the coolness was a welcome change. Not for the first time, Legolas wondered what the Lady meant to tell them through the mirror. He himself believed Brethilior. The news could not be good if the Lady herself wished to contact two of the few elves that remained in middle earth. In fact, Legolas thought, the news must be unusually bad.

His thoughts strayed to his dear friend that ruled the white city of Minas Tirith. Aragorn would need to be told of this meeting, as soon as Legolas could reach him, unless the Lady otherwise instructed. Legolas dearly missed the King, and also, he realized with a pang, he missed the irritable dwarf that now dwelled in the glittering mountain halls that were his domain. He intended to take Gimli with him to the Grey Havens when it was his time to leave middle earth. He would be the first of the Dwarves to enter the sacred elven land.

The snapping of twigs underfoot brought him back from his musings. They had entered the forest of Lothlorien.

"Come my brother," said Brethilior, "She will not want to be delayed in her message."

"I know," sighed Legolas, "And yet I wonder what tidings her message could bring us."

As the two elves rode deeper into the forest, silence grew between them. The great forest of Lothlorien often had that effect. Whispering melodies hung on the air, and half-heard laughter echoed through stillness. Legolas heard water trickling and dripping over the emerald green moss that covered the stones and ground of the forest. Lothlorien was an awe-inspiring realm. It was as mysterious as a forgotten dream, but could also be as menacing, and as lethal, as deaths shadow.

Legolas and Brethilior arrived at a small clearing; the ground was carpeted with the Elanor flowers. Legolas smiled as he dismounted, remembering Samwise's daughter. Elanor, he thought, as he crouched and plucked a flower from the ground and twirled the pale, golden blossom in his fingers. His Hobbit friends were also sorely missed, even Pippin.

Legolas straightened and followed Brethilior along a narrow and twisting path. Legolas walked carefully, watching where he stepped. Even with the elves of Lorien absent, the forest itself held many dangers for the unwary. As the two elves silently walked the lichen covered path, Legolas, whose senses were sharply attuned to the darkness of Mirkwood, felt, more then he saw, a presence nearby. The presence felt like power. Both old, so vastly old he could feel time unraveling around it, and young.

It was the power of the Elves.

"Brethilior," Legolas murmured, "can you feel it?"

"Yes brother, I can," Brethilior replied, as he glanced quickly to both sides, "The power is old. Very old. It could only be the Lady."

About to reply, Legolas stopped before the words reached his mouth. A still, tall, figure was standing in the clearing, behind the mirror, robed in black from head to foot. Brethilior gasped, but Legolas spun, unsheathing his curved sword, and charged at the black robed figure.

"Stop."

The voice echoed in the clearing, power radiating from it. Legolas stopped. The single word halted his body, refusing to allow him any movement. It was eerily familiar, and there was strength behind it.

The voice of Galadriel spoke again, as Legolas stepped forward, but it sounded hollow, and emanated from the small silver basin set into a carved pillar of stone. The Mirror of Galadriel.

"Legolas Greenleaf," said the Lady, "You will not attack the one you see before you. Hinaur is a friend, and ally of my own. He does not speak, but he is a mighty in power, and a great warrior. He remains hidden, so as not to betray my trust."

The elf queen's strong, majestic voice straightened Legolas' and Brethilior's backs, awareness heightened in the presence of one so mighty. Her words thrilled through them, and they stared openly at the tall, slender figure standing silently near the mirror.

"Come." said Galadriel from beyond the seas, "We must speak."

Legolas glanced once more at the black clothed unmoving figure, and stepped forward.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Elves?" Gimli rasped through an opened mouth, "The elves could not have stolen the Arkenstone, it is too well protected!"

Gandalf laughed, a tight, dry chuckle, with no humour.

"Gimli," The wizard said, "Very few things are too well protected for them not to be stolen. The elves are," he paused for a moment, choosing his words, "They are, particularly proficient at stealing when they want to. The fact that many choose not to steal does not diminish that fact."

Aragorn frowned and said, somewhat confused, "The elves are a force for good, why would they steal such a thing?"

"These are not the elves we know. These elves are the origin of the orc. They were twisted by evils so powerful that anyone would be changed, but these elves wished it."

Gandalf turned abruptly, ignoring the consternation of his companions, and leaving the secret room, continuing down the passage as he spoke.

"These elves come from a foul breed. They wanted to be made more powerful at first, but the Valar wouldn't allow it. They turned to," he paused and turned, an unearthly shadow veiling his face, "other sources."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey, thanx to my reviewers, please send more! They are food for thought! I hope you all like this story, and haven't caught out too many discrepancies, (I hope not :P) I would also like to recommend a good URL on LOTR info; w w w . g l y p h w e b . c o m / a r d a / d e f a u l t . a s p