You're great, Christopher Lee. You were always great. I always believed you were immortal. I still do. You left behind a legacy, and for that, you will be remembered always.

Hey look. An update. I haven't seen one of those in months. But hey, I'm really looking forward to writing the next three chapters. After that, I actually have... well, everything won't be so planned anymore. I have a blank canvas.

Disclaimer: LotR disclaimed.

"Keeper."

"Ranger."

"Healer at the moment, I'm afraid," said Thorongil. He had straightened himself and looked cleaner, but he looked exhausted. "Gildhel is looking for you."

"Is it necessary?" she said. Her green eyes looked around the camp quickly, as if already drifting away from the conversation. She tightened her hold on the basket and began walking. Knowing the ill condition of the injured, Areth was reluctant to depart from the camp.

Thorongil was quick to keep her pace. She walked at a quick sprint but with the man's tall stature, he easily walked beside her.

"Areth, please," he said.

The sincerity in his tone was usually enough to placate her, but he did not think that his words reached her at all. He glanced at the storm on her usually blank face. She may hide behind an indifferent façade, but Thorongil knew that Areth was rarely every calm.

In a final effort to get her attention, he walked only a little quicker and stood in front of her, forcing her to stop. The look on her face was like that of a brewing storm, but Thorongil was not deterred. He daringly took the basket from her grip and resisted when she attempted to take it back.

"Areth," he repeated, throwing her a pointed look. She looked ready to protest, but then he said, "Your attention is needed elsewhere, mellon nin."

"Lord Gildhel can wait. The injured cannot."

"Which is the reason why I am here," he said gently. Areth regarded him skeptically, but he finally urged, "Go."

"I don't sense any particular urgency from you, my friend," she said. "Surely you would know if the situation is truly dire."

"No, I would not," the ranger denied. "Whatever he wishes to speak of is for your ears only. He's kept his thoughts close to his heart as of late."

Areth regarded him carefully before finally conceding. A small smile quirked on her lips, and though it looked half-hearted, it was a bit of a relief for the man. Turning to and older woman behind her, she said, "Gilda, please show Thorongil to Eowine. I reckon that the bandages need to be changed soon."

Areth placed a hand on Thorongil's shoulder in a silent gesture of good will before quickly making her way to the stables.

Mounting the grey steed positioned by the doors, Areth gently patted the horse's neck before guiding his run to Bleutuin. Although the main road would have provided a quicker path, she went through the maze of the forest to reach the town. She was cautious by nature, and though Dorwinion was far from Rohan, she did not want to take any unnecessary risks.

The other day, the Circle of Eorl spoke about the problems, though only briefly and rather vaguely. The keeper hoped that today, they would be suggesting solutions. The people were the ones to needlessly suffer with every second wasted. Areth could not quite forget Eomund's final breath.

Dismounting the horse with a final farewell, Areth left him by the edge of the forest. He would most likely wander away, but she trusted him to come back. It was odd, but she disliked taking freedom from animals. She recalled letting Singollo roam the fields on his own, though he always returned.

Areth knocked briefly on the wooden surface. Without waiting for Gildhel's voice, she opened the door and allowed herself inside.

It was evident that she walked in during the middle of a meeting. Odelyn was in the middle of explaining the state of Fengel's rule, voicing her distaste for the brutality of the Dunlendings.

"Areth. So glad you can finally join us," Odelyn was the first to say. Even exhaustion could not entirely knock away the air of haughtiness in her voice.

Areth, however, was not baited. Odelyn was a snob who thought herself better than a simple farm girl, but that didn't make her any less useful to their cause. She glanced briefly at Gildhel, who gave her a small nod. Had Gildhel not requested it of her, she would have been less subdued.

"Apologies," said Areth blankly. "My attention was necessary elsewhere." Turning to Gildhel, she brought a hand to her chest and inclined her head in a respectful bow. Glancing at all those seated around the table, she secured the door close and said, "Shall we get started?"

Choosing to be far away from Deorwine, Areth moved towards the chair between Gildhel and Haleth. She touched Haleth's shoulder briefly in short greeting before taking her seat.

The small chatter died away instantaneously. It was evident that Thengel was to speak.

The King's son leaned forward on the table. Regarding each of his allies meaningfully, he said, "It has been a long time since we all gathered together in one place." Closing his eyes briefly, he continued, "It is unfortunate that we could not meet during a more peaceful time. However, the Circle of Eorl was made for the purpose of resolution during a time of discord.

"The wounded we are aiding is all we need to realize that no one is safe in Riddermark. So threated is Fengel that he will stop at nothing, not even for the innocent, to get to us. His influence is expanding, and if he gets any closer to the East, he will soon reach Gondor."

Areth ran a hand through her tangled hair. She hadn't once considered the repercussions Fengel's rule could have on Gondor's allegiance. It seemed that their time was even more pressed than it already was.

"Fengel's leadership is a danger to the sworn Oath of Eorl and Cirion of old. Fengel's removal from the throne has been acknowledged to benefit the Eorlingas. However, I'm afraid that we can no longer do this through more discrete means."

Deorwine, feeling a twinge of impatience, tapped a forefinger against the table. Gildhel merely glanced at him, but paid him no more attention.

"Fengel is predictable," Gildhel continued. Nodding his head to acknowledge the woman, he said, "Haleth tells us that he is biding his time, so this lapse gives us an opportunity. Now is the moment to act. What Fengel lacks in strategy, we lack in numbers."

"Is it time to call forth the rebellion?" Elfdane said quietly. He feared this moment. He had a fool's hope that it would not come to a battle.

Areth shook her head slightly. "No. We are not ready."

"I agree," said Gildhel. "Which is why I believe our next course of action should be the recruitment of more allies."

Each council member looked at one another. No one had any objections.

"This is your next task, Areth."

But plenty had objections to that.

All at once, many of the council members spoke over one another. Odelyn stood at once ready to speak against Gildhel's decision.

"My lord, please reconsider-"

"There are plenty of others capable-"

"She's more capable than any of you would be-"

And throughout it all, Areth said nothing. Her brows were furrowed in contemplation, but her thoughts were kept to herself. She was, after all, at Gildhel's disposal. However, to return once again to familiar lands… She could not say that she was displeased.

Gildhel's hand rose, and all was silent.

"Peace," he said, throwing a sharp glance at Odelyn. The woman slowly sank back down to her seat, evidently displeased. "My confidence in Areth does not falter. I will speak no further on this subject if not to discuss our strategy."

"If you will not compromise further on this, then what is there left to talk about?" Deorwine said tersely. Gildhel certainly hadn't taken the time to inform him about this development.

"Indeed, I did not come all this way only to have my council rebuffed," said Odelyn.

"I am quite willing to compromise, but when it comes to this, I entrust no one other than Areth," said Gildhel.

"Why were we summoned?" said Odelyn. She could barely contain her annoyance. "Our time is not as disposable as yours, Thengel. We have duties to uphold in Meduseld. Do you not consider the suspicion we bring upon ourselves just by being away for this long?"

Gildhel seemed to have an unbelievable amount of patience this day, for not once did he allow his anger to rise. Calmly, he said, "Months have passed since we last met. During those months, commanders have died, villages have been destroyed, and Fengel's command has gotten stronger." His voice hardened slightly as he said, "The plan must be revised and executed sooner than we anticipated."

"And what is our plan, exactly?" came Haleth's hard voice. "Barge in Meduseld with an army behind us? Demand the crown? My Lord, we are at a disadvantage-"

"Which is the reason why we must recruit allies."

"We are speaking in circles," Deorwine sighed. After rubbing his temples, he looked at Gildhel and said, "Assume Areth's mission results in what we hope for. What then? What is our course of action?"

The edge of the prince's lips lifted upwards and slight, and he inclined his head in gratitude to the other man. "That is why we are here. I must speak to those of you under Fengel's command." He looked at Haleth, Elfdane, and Odelyn. "But for now, I ask you all to leave. I must talk to Areth alone."

"Trust is, indeed, a pleasure all of us are deprived of in this circle of friends," Deorwine breathed loudly.

Odelyn was still evidently displeased, but she pursued the matter no further. Instead, she threw Areth a look of distrust before following Gildhel out the door. Areth merely tilted her head at her, her green eyes barely narrowing. When everyone had left the room, the door closed, and Areth found herself alone with her thoughts.

Gildhel had shut the door. It gave him a moment to speak to Deorwine.

Deorwine regarded Gildhel. His arms were crossed, and for once, he had no trace of humor on his face. Inclining his head towards the older man, he said only one word: "Why?"

"Why not?"

"This is dangerous," Deorwine practically hissed. "You claim to have sent her to Mirkwood to protect her, and yet you send her on this… this suicide mission around Rohan to call for aid? Are you mad?"

"She served her purpose well in Mirkwood, Deorwine. Don't continue this farce of innocence," he uttered coolly.

"You are practically sending her to her death. In case you have forgotten, Areth is the only one who knows the locations of our commanders. Without her, we will lose all we have worked for up to this point."

Gildhel's eyes remained cool as he regarded the other man. Instead of addressing Deorwine's concern, he said, "Tell me, why did I choose Areth instead of you for this task?"

The younger man stared at him as if he were mad. Deciding that it would be better to indulge the man, he said with resignation, "Why do you do decide to do anything?"

Ignoring him, Gildhel said, "Areth has the gift of earning the loyalty of many of those she meet. Whereas you"—here, Gildhel wore a faint smirk—"cannot even earn the trust of Elfdane."

Slowly, the humor on his face fell and he regarded Deorwine with intense solemnity. "Ensure that your judgment is not compromised by your emotions, my friend. Like it or not, Areth will play an important role in Fengel's downfall."

Deorwine's eyes flashed. He looked as if he were about to say more, but upon a moment's consideration, he bowed his head and let it be. Gildhel's clear dismissal left him with a flare of anger, but he could say no more, for Gildhel had already entered the room and left.

Closing the door behind him, Gildhel gave a deep sigh and returned once again to the seat he occupied previously. The conversation seemed to have taken all of the energy out of him.

"Have you to say anything about this?" he said with utter tiredness. Never before had Areth seen him looked so aged as he did in this moment.

"Forgive me, Gildhel, but I believe that I'm needed here," Areth said truthfully. As much as she desired to return to her home, she knew her duty. "I understand the urgency—truly, I do. But I cannot leave the wounded in good conscience."

Gildhel nodded slightly, acknowledging her concerns. Still, Areth somehow knew that he would not change his mind.

"You have to realize that there will be more if we do not act now. We must restore Rohan to what it used to be, my friend."

Areth closed her eyes briefly. When she did, she recalled the blank, broken look of the child in the camp. She recalled Eomund, who fought until the end. She did not want to abandon these people—not when they needed all the help they could get. But nor would she go against Gildhel's command.

"If it is as you say, Thengel, and I am the only one who know the resistance's location, then if I am… detained, the connection between you and the leaders will be severed." Areth shook her head. "You placed too much importance in my role. Perhaps it would be best if we told another. If I were killed, you will have no way to communicate your command."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take. There is a traitor amongst our midst, Areth. I am only relieved that I chose right in making you the keeper of location."

Areth was tempted to slam her hands against the table. Thengel was not listening to reason. Why did he insist on placing his entire confidence in only a few people? She understood that trust cannot be given freely, but this course relied far too much on luck, and luck hadn't been very kind to them lately.

There was a short knock on the door.

"Enter."

Thorongil went through, and he was swift to shut the door behind him.

"Excellent," Gildhel sighed with relief. "Areth, Thorongil will be accompanying you through this task."

There was a slight smile on the tall man's face as he regarded the woman. And despite being taken aback, Areth found herself returning the gesture.

Having Thorongil beside her through the journey comforted Areth, but she stuck by her previous resolve. She did not think that she was the best candidate in recruiting the help of possible allies. She was no diplomat, but Gildhel would not be moved.

The woman only feared that her inexperience would cost their rebellion the aid they needed. Still, a part of her understood that Thengel was given very few options.

The horse rider regarded the yellowing map with a careful eye. Before her, Thorongil and Thengel were doing the same.

"It is a gamble to travel to Orthanc," Areth said finally. "We would have to go through the entire southern portion of the Mark, and I'm easily recognized. Were we to successfully reach the tower, I rather doubt that the White Wizard would give us aid. He seems reluctant to dabble into our conflicts."

"We'd have better luck talking to the Grey Wizard," said Thorongil in agreement.

"But we must at least try," Gildhel murmured. He eyed the position of the wizard's tower. "Saruman the White is reasonable—he would not dismiss our situation without a proper exchange."

"If it is your command," Areth sighed. Smoothening the edges of the map, she carefully regarded the expanse of land. "Which route would be the best?" she asked. Knowing that he was most knowledgeable in this matter, her question was directed to Thorongil.

Thorongil's finger touched the inked lines of their location before tracing a path towards the Tower. He then said, "This would be the most direct route. But the necessary caution would make the journey almost three to four week's time."

"That won't do," said Areth, shaking her head slightly. Bringing a curled finger to her lips, she murmured, "We'd be wasting too much time. It isn't guaranteed that the Wizard will lend us his hand."

"Perhaps taking a detour would be best," Thorongil offered. Tracing his fingers downwards, he said, "South of the Mark lies majority of the smaller dwellings of the Rohirrim." Meeting Lord Thengel's eyes, he said, "I'm certain that these would be the places where the people are most against Fengel King's rule."

"Indeed. His negligence would by now have cost him their allegiance."

"Fine," said Gildhel firmly. "Do it. Keep by the borders, but do not linger any more than you have to. You cannot be recognized."

"Sire, if that is so, then would it not be wiser to send another? Perhaps Cirion would be more adequate."

"It would do you well to stop pestering me about this, Areth," he almost snapped. "I will not change my mind."

Areth's light brow rose in surprise. Thengel's patience could only stretch so thin, apparently. Her head dropped slightly in compliance, and she said no more regarding the matter.

Thengel sighed. After taking a deep breath to regain his composure, his finger traced the outer areas around Riddermark's borders. "Make your presence around these villages…"

But Areth was only half listening. Thengel made a point to reiterate every detail of the plan. She took a glance at Thorongil.

As if feeling her eyes on him, Thorongil met Areth's gaze and offered her a small smile.

It seemed as if he was more prepared for this expedition than she was.

"It seems you will have to bear with me for a while again, my friend," said Areth. In her voice was surprisingly a bit of light humor. She secured a leather strap around the horse's middle, and her eyes twinkled as she said, "I promise I won't be so brooding this time around."

Thorongil chuckled lightly. He felt a bit of relief. Areth seemed to be in better spirits, which was a great contrast from the early morning. As he fixed the necessary proportions of food and water in a leather bag, he discretely regarded his companion. The change in her attitude piqued his curiosity.

"You seem rather cheerful," he observed casually.

Areth paused.

"Yes, I… I supposed so," she said. With a light laugh, she said with more confidence, "I am. After such a long time, I'm finally returning home. With everything going on, I never thought that there would be anything left for me to look forward to, but I find myself wanting to return to the Mark." When she paused again, the brightness in her viridescent eyes seemed to diminish. "Though I confess that it feels wrong to smile at such a time… when so many people are dying."

Thorongil's eyes lingered on the woman. He was quiet for a moment.

"I believe that is precisely the reason why we must smile," he said gently. "War makes us aware of our mortality. Any day could be our last. We must cherish the things that brings us happiness."

Thorongil wondered if this mindset was what made her appear so outwardly aloof.

"And what is it that brings you happiness?" she asked suddenly.

Thorongil felt a sense of surprise. Areth, after all, was not usually quick to inquire, especially about anything so personal.

"Many things."

He needn't have said anything else. Areth understood. Just by the small tug on his lips, she could tell that his thoughts were on the one who had a hold of his heart.

Thorongil secured the clasp. His eyes were drawn to his work. "You must only remember to cherish them."

Areth paused momentarily. She took a second to simply look at her companion. In her eyes, Thorongil suddenly seemed much wiser than his physical age suggested. With a small inclination of her head, she uttered quietly, "Always."

Grasping the reigns of the horse, Thorongil led the steed to the front of the stables.

Areth lingered behind and ensured that everything she needed was in the satchel. Digging deeper, she searched for the familiar touch of her dagger's sheath. However, her fingers came upon the softest of silk.

Grasping the cloth, she pulled it out. Areth already knew what she would find. She regarded the slight glimmer of the Elven-made cloak with sadness in her viridescent eyes. She recalled how it fit perfectly around his broad shoulders. She recalled how he had draped it about her own shoulders.

She shook her head. Now was not the time. Throwing the cloak around her, she secured the clasp around her neck and pulled the hood over her head. She caught up with the ranger.

"I know that you are ready to return home, but I only want to remind you that it may not be the same," Thorongil said. His voice was gentle, bit it was neither condescending nor pitying.

Though he did not see, Areth nodded. She knew well enough.

Halting right by the gate of the stable, Thorongil's eyes wandered. Not finding what he was looking for, he looked to his companion.

"Where is Sirdal?"

"Oh. Well, you see…" Thorongil was surprised to see that Areth actually looked sheepish. "I set him free."

His brow rose. "You… set him free?" he repeated slowly.

"I'm sorry." She did not seem sorry. As she folded a blanket over the saddle, she said, "He reminded me of my horse."

"Surely you realize that you will have to ride with me until we reach the next village."

"Yes, of course."

Areth stroked the horse's mane in apology. He would have a burden to carry until then.

Mounting the steed, Thorongil offered a hand to his companion and helped her settle comfortably behind him. Securing her bow over her shoulders, she placed her arms around his waist.

"It should take us only a few leagues to reach Celduin. We'll make camp when night falls."

Thorongil felt his companion nod.

"Whenever you are ready," she whispered.

Areth soon felt the breath of the wind as they set off towards the land of the horse riders.

Thranduil's sapphire eyes looked blankly to the darkening sky. It would be night soon. Still, he did not want to return to an empty study. He would only remain idle, waiting for… something. Perhaps he would wait for the stars. At least then, he would be rewarded with sure content.

Licking his dry lips, he touched the petal of a golden flower in his palm.

He missed her terribly.

It was a frightening thing to realize that he did not know whether she was dead or alive. As of late, Thranduil had made the state of Rohan his concern. He took comfort in the fact that should Areth have found herself caught, the vile king of theirs would have wasted no time in spreading the knowledge around the lands. Ernil bore no ill news of the sort.

His eyes glanced to his forest. What he hoped to see, he did not know. Perhaps he had an illogical wish of catching a glimpse of her.

But when he did not look away from the shadows, a flash of faint gold caught his sharp eyes. He knew instantly that someone was watching him.

The tenderness in his blue gaze fell away, replaced by a severe, icy frost. He stood tall, staring straight ahead at the shadowy, unmoving figure. The figure seemed to be staring at him, as well.

"This is rather bold of you," King Thranduil uttered clearly. His voice echoed with such frightening calm. "You've been quite a nuisance to me as of late."

Despite the shadow of the forest, he could see the slight tilt of the figure's head. Thranduil's eyes narrowed, and no longer did he maintain the cool calm of his mask. The ferocity could be seen through his glare alone. The fire burned even more when he realized that the figure was mocking him. He took a step forward.

The stranger recognized the dangerous glint in the Elf's eyes. His figure visibly took a careful step backwards, preparing a retreat.

With no further warning, the Elven King unsheathed the sword that hid beneath his cloak and lunged forward to the hooded figure. The silhouette in the shadows anticipated an attack and spared only a second before running in the opposite direction. King Thranduil was vigilant, and he was tired of waiting. He followed close behind the stranger.

The hooded figure was at a disadvantage, however. King Thranduil knew his domain well. There was no turn he took that the Sindar did not know of. Every move he made to end the pursuit was fruitless.

Seeming to have realized the futility of shaking his pursuer, the figure stopped and pointed the tip of his dagger to the Elven King. King Thranduil's smile turned feral, and his hard eyes became even fiercer. Glaring at his enemy through narrowed eyes, he shifted his sword to fix on the enemy.

And then, they crossed blades.

The heavy clanking of metal disturbed the eerie silence of the forest. And though the stranger was a fair fighter, great in skill, he could not match the ferocity of the Elven King. All the anger, the sorrow, seemed to flow through his blade. The hooded figure was unfortunate enough to be the one to feel the burn of the fire.

There was a momentary lapse, but it had been enough to give Thranduil the opening he needed. Striking the side of his head with the hilt of the sword, the Sindar King kicked the enemy's knees forcibly enough to end him kneeling on the ground. The force had been enough to loosen his grip on the weapon.

Sheathing his sword once again, the Elven King perched himself before the enemy on one knee. He looked at him through half-lidded eyes, and he regarded the stranger as he would filth.

He grasped at the stranger's hood and forcibly pulled it from his head.

"You dare-"

But when he saw the forest green of his eyes, the gold of his long hair, Thranduil froze. His thick brows furrowed, and all the anger he felt was replaced by the staggering realization that he knew very little about the present situation.

But that face.

The man had quickly risen and despite his injury, he had the will to grab at his hidden knife and throw it at his pursuer. He staggered towards the darkness.

"Hir nin!"

Before the blade could go anywhere near him, an arrow hit the blade and sent it off course. Thranduil could vaguely see his hunters pursue the man in the cloak.

"My Lord, are you injured?" his captain whispered with such urgency.

But Thranduil did not look away. The cloaked figure had gone, but his hard, sapphire eyes could not stray.

That face looked too much like Areth's.