A/N: This is a little chapter but I hope it sates my readers and gets my wheels turning again. Life is slowing down again so I can actually write more often. A great thank you to Adeleihdis for giving me some great inspiration. Some bits of the first paragraph were written by her.

Elrond stood back for a moment and gazed over the sea of silver and gold armour before him. The elves now under his command were assembled at the gate in an impressive display of power. They were not a great number, far less than that which had marched on the Black Lands those long years ago.

Elves stood arrayed in orderly rows numbering into the hundreds. Grimy armour had been cleaned as best as the short notice had arrived. They were marching for a king after all…

Every last one of the trainer soldiers had fought arduously these past years. It had always been an uncertain battle, yet they had endured. The scars of those brutal struggles were etched into each individual face. The emotional toll of the siege and these accursed lands was hidden deep within their bright eyes. And yet, they stood now with pride and stern determination on their faces, for their king, their countries, and their lives. The sheer power of the warrior's many lit fëa was almost untouchable. Even the smell coming off the men, one of rich leather, ashen dust, and freshly worked iron, was like a wave buffering the soldiers. Though Elrond was certain the sight and smell would deter no orc, it seemed the combined demonstration was keeping the wild creatures at bay.

And for that, the peredhel was glad. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he surveyed the land about him. They would have at least a whole night to march. In the darkness, the army would be hidden from enemy sight, but the feral creatures could prove to be dangerous. Elrond did not forget the Warg attack that had occurred yesterday. He squinted into the grey dimness of twilight. No movement was noted, and his scouts had reported the land clear.

"Are your men ready, commander?" A husky voice spoke from behind Elrond.

The dark Noldo turned to face the newcomer. He wasn't surprised that the voice belonged to the High King, Gil-Galad. Elrond gave a gentle nod and replied, "Yes, my lord. We are ready to depart at your word."

Gil-Galad's face remained impassive. His icy blue eyes flickered towards the Sindarin king standing a couple meters away before responding. "I wish you the best luck, my friend," he said quietly. A small smile lit his eyes ever so slightly.

Elron gave another nod to conceal his suppressed grin. His nerves were rising as the hour drew near. Soon, he would be on his own with more than a hundred lives depending on him for guidance. It was a heavy burden to bear. "Thank you," he said. His own grey eyes roamed over his men.

The warriors reminded Elrond of the war hounds in the Far North which Halvorn had told him about. The energy they carried was loaded and ready. Not all of it was eagerness. Some of the soldiers were quaking, visibly shuffling in their armour to distract their minds from the coming trek. Elrond could imagine (and indeed he shared) a few of the thoughts that ran through their minds. What threats will this night mount? What devils lie at the end of this road? Will we be too late to save the Sindar? When will this end?

The king interrupted Elrond's silent musings. "They will fight well. All will be well in the end. Surely, you have foreseen it," Gil-Galad said encouragingly, but a distinct layer of tiredness laced the words.

It was true. Interspersed between his many nightmares, Elrond had seen some shards of what he assumed was foresight. His fathers had always told him he had long vision. Yet, the half-elf was loath to trust the faint glimmers he had seen so infrequently. "They will have to. I do not know for certain what we will find in Gash." Elrond shifted his weight uneasily and met his king's gaze, looking for some assurance or direction.

Gil-Galad took in a deep breath and crossed his arms. His voice rasped lowly, "I do not believe you find a full-fledged dragon, but perhaps a drake. Just be ready, Elrond. You must leave soon and whatever you find on your path, lead on." He placed a gentle hand on the commander's shoulder. "I would not have placed you in this position had I not trusted you. Now, you must learn to trust yourself."

XxX

Fourteen hours later

The king's steadfast, azure gaze was so full of purpose and hope in that moment… As Elrond thought back to that sunset he pondered the things he should have said. Now, he had not the chance, and part of him wondered if he would ever get another opportunity to say the words he now thought of...

His horse stumbled and jolted Elrond out of the thoughts he had been slipping into. The ellon looked around in sudden alert. The grey landscape was still dim and dark even at midmorning. As the garrison moved ever northward, it also seemed that there was a significant increase in the amount of ash falling. It was a constant flutter that obscured the ellon's vision and clung annoyingly to his hair. The stony landscape was difficult enough for their scouts to cover without the blanket drifting downwards. Occasionally, the men would march past a dark pit filled with the stuff. Elrond wrinkled his nose as a dark thought came upon him, wondering if the pits were not natural and perhaps burning ditches for the dead.

He shook the thoughts away from him and glanced at Thranduil. The tall, regal elf lord looked grossly out of place in the arid wastes. His exotic silver hair was dulled with the small, clinging specks of ash. Yet, he rode straight and proud, a symbol for his troops to rally behind. Elrond found himself unconsciously mirroring the other ellon. It was difficult not to mimic the Sindarin king. Words from his foster father surfaced from memory.

Never be afraid to emulate another elf. Always learn, but never give up your own ways in the process. Be your own master and surpass in the end.

Elrond snorted at the shard of memory. Maedhros had been speaking to Elrond and his twin about sports, but the small subject held so much more value. The ellon saw that now since he was older.

Elrond found himself pondering his deceased brother. The usual slew of thoughts pecked at him while his horse trudged on and the heavy sound of hundreds of boots marched on the hard-packed dirt. The final moments he had spent with Elros were almost too painful to dredge up. It seemed in the desolate landscape, they held more potent feelings of loss and sadness. He shook his feelings away. Focus, he chastised himself.

It was difficult to focus on such long journeys, especially moving so slowly in procession over the narrow passes, but time would fare quicker if he actually had something to do…

His horse reared its chestnut head back suddenly with a fear-filled whinny. Elrond crushed his legs deep into the animal's side in an effort to stay atop his mount. His silver eyes darted back and forth over the silent landscape. Others beside him had halted, warily surveying the area around them with the same look of fear in Elrond's eyes. Anything could be lurking out there. His gaze dashed to Thranduil's "What do you think?" He asked, keeping a sharp vigil of his surroundings.

The king sat still on his horse for a moment, contemplating, weighing his decision. "We must press on until we meet this threat." He raised his voice from the low whisper he had adopted. "Perhaps we will merely pass it by," he said obviously more to the men then Elrond.

It was at that moment that the elf's words were upturned.

A raucous snarl sliced through the thick air. A chorus of growls and bone-chilling howls followed it. Then the screams started. "Wargs!"

Elrond pulled his horse about, facing the pandemonium behind him as the ranks of elves mobilised into a wall of spears and shields. A pack of a dozen of the creatures were now being hacked down by the wall of ellyn.

The animals were larger than Elrond was accustomed, almost as large as the ones that had attacked the camp the day before yesterday. He scanned the horizon for more of the dangerous pack, but the sounds of battle were now dying. He was glad to see that no one had become injured in the small foray. A small flame of pride at the quick movements of his soldiers flickered in the Noldo.

"How odd they attack us," Thranduil commented as his commanders now bellowed for a return to formation among the adrenaline-pumped soldiers. The flummoxed warriors hesitantly moved back into their ranks, resisting the adrenaline pumping through their veins. Thranduil flicked his gaze indifferently back towards the road. His presence glazing over with ice and he moved on as if nothing had occurred. "Come, let us keep marching."

Elrond nodded and kicked his horse into a trot. He only looked back to call for a change of pace. His mind, however, wondered on the oddities of these past few days…