"Already the hour had struck, and at his great Master's bidding he must march with war into the West." ― J.R.R. Tolkien

Arrai sank heavily into a flat marble slab hissing as Astaldar peeled off the bandages. "Easy there." Another grimace escaped his lips as Astaldar ran a light finger over the bruises now a dark blue color.

"You should have been more careful…" Astaldar would have added in, and have come to me sooner, but they both new this was not possible. Astaldar had been busy all evening tending to the wounded and though there were not as many as he had initially thought there was still quite a number. Similarly Arrai had been preoccupied with the patrols and burials and getting word to the families of their losses. It had been a harrowing night for the both of them. And Astaldar though far more experienced in his area was still taxed by the sheer amount of grave wounds that needed tending and while Arrai would never speak freely of the things that weighed his mind Astaldar could tell that this battle had taken quite a toll on the younger elf one far too young for such deaths and burdens.

The younger elf leaned his head against the wall in the halls of healing eyes unfocused as they gazed at the moon in the distance. Astaldar sighed as he broke the stems of several flowers his eyes breathing in the scent of the gardens wafting in from open windows. Here and their elves slept fitfully for although this was the wing of the palace designated as the royal halls of healing the other hall had been full and it was deemed necessary to move more patients here.

A hand pressed to the younger elves forehead and his eyes snapped to Astaldar wary then relaxing seeming to have drifted off for a moment there. And Astaldar couldn't blame him, he himself was tired and that was saying much.

"You should rest…" The younger elf muttered shifting under his scrutinizing gaze, he chuckled at the reminiscence of Glorfindel in his expressions for though he the elf had Thranduil's features several of his expressions were pure Glorfindel and it amused him to no end to see them.

"I will." Glorfindel nodded as the younger elf closed his eyes. Well at least he was a better patient then Legolas, he sighed his heart heavy. Another death had passed before his eyes, another light extinguished. And he lived on where others did not. Why did he live on where many died? He did not know and yet at times he wondered why things were the way they were. Decades passed then centuries and still no answer. His eyes lingered on the younger elf. Ingwe, she had been quite the conversationalist. Old in some ways, but very young in others, she too had passed on and now he was left, alone. He sighed washing his hands in bowl of water then drying his hands and calling for the bowl to be replaced, he still had much to do compresses to place bandages to change…and yet at times he wondered…what would it have been like if he had ceased to live or sailed? But he was a healer and his skills were needed here among the living and here where there was war and not eternal peace. So with a heavy and yet understanding heart he moved to look over Orek's arm. Now that one was a lousy patient with a terrible bedside manner.

"Muindor." Tauriel's face emerged between the grate of the cell it had been several hours and she had cleaned herself up and changed from the blood of battle. At the far corner a form stirred. "Gwethil?"

Tulien rose standing before his sister frown tugging at his lips. "I heard there was a battle." She nodded. His darkened brow furrowed further as she gripped the bars trying to get a better look. "There were legions of them…so much darkness."

Tulien muttered several curses under his breath a hand tearing through his ankle length hair. "And he did not take me with him?"

"He said he would not…" Tulien's eyes widened. "You spoke with him?" He all but yelled. "I wanted to ask after your life Muindor! I thought he'd have you killed!"

"I wish he had!"

"Tulien!"

"No Gwethil how could you! It's because of you that I was left here to rot."

Tauriel snarled under her breath. "It is because of yourself Tulien! Why do you let your hatred blind you! He is no orc! I have spoken with him! I have seen him!"

"And did you bed him as well!"

"How could you bring yourself to say those words!" She snapped her face livid at the bars as she glared down her brother eyes alight in a fire of fury.

"I know you loved him."

"But he loved his Adar more!"

"And now he's dead! Dead Gwethil! Dead! He was my friend I vowed to protect him! And he slipped away! He slipped away!" An involuntary sob escaped him but he bit his lower lip to prevent another such unmanly display of pain and grief.

"I know! And I grieve to! But why do you take out your anger on others? Why the other Lieutenants why the elves under you? Why this prince Muindor answer me!"

His lips twisted into a snarl. "Because he's an orc!"

"He's an orc simply because you deem him so!"

"He's an orc because of his accursed linage! He's an orc because I see the way you look at him!" Her own lips twisted as he gripped the bars.

"I can look at any elf in any way I want Muindor! Adar is dead Naneth is dead I am my own woman, and no one dictates my life."

"No one you say? What of Legolas? I saw the way he pursued you, why did you reject his advances! I thought you loved him!"

"I did not pursue him because of Thranduil! I told you of this countless times or have you forgotten? Why do you seek to open old wounds why did you insist on that love I wish for no longer? I thought you obeyed Thranduil's every word!"

"If you would he would have allowed the love you bore the prince."

"He judges too harshly and you know it Muindor! We all know how much you wanted an Adar after ours died. It's a shame isn't it?"

"What are we even arguing about Gwethil! I want out! Let me speak to the prince have him release me!"

"Why would he do so Muindor when all you do is threaten him?"

Tulien hissed under his breath himself gripping at the bars. "Death is better than this Tauriel do you understand? While the orcs cut down our brethren I am left here to rot!"

Tauriel frowned her face still livid from the fight with her brother. "Fine I will ask of him but he is no Legolas nor Thranduil, he will not forgive you on anyone's account but your own he has made that clear. If you can't curb your hate I cannot help you and neither will any elf, if you held any respect for Thranduil as you claim you would make room in your heart for acceptance. He may be from a cursed line but he's Legolas's brother as well. I just hope you can find it in your heart to see it." She turned on her heel to be the last to have a word in this only to have her brother slam at the door in finality as she made her way to her chambers. It had been a harrowing day and she needed sleep. She just prayed that while her brother hated all orcs he would not allow false perceptions to cloud his judgement as it at times did. Closing her eyes she slept fitfully that night dreaming of trees a moon and flowers where Legolas stood with the crown of Mirkwood on his head and her hand in his as they wed under the darkened starry sky.

Elsewhere in the dark recess of the North Undeeps, Gulrazob stood hissing in agony as more acid was added to the stump that was now his arm. Cursing at the elves and all that they stood for, the Nazgûl emerged as a chunk of metal was driven into his flesh another arm grafted on connected by oaths of darkness.

"I am disappointed with your failure." It raged its voice a echoing like shadows of the walls. "It was my understanding from your judgment that elves are weak and easy to slay and that taking them alive would be no hard task! Why have I given you Legions my Legions when you couldn't even sack Mirkwood properly! Of what use are you to me brute?"

Gulrazob snarled under his breath. "De'y would have been blood and flesh for de feasting if not for one. I will fin'd an kill him." The brute smashed at the wooden table breaking it in two and then kicked one of the grafters of his arm into the black rock of the furnace.

"Who is this elf! Why do I keep hearing of an elf standing up to my Commanders!" Its rage was unrelenting cold as ice as it seethed within itself. An elf what elf? He had the little princling of the elves who else could stand up against him? Who could turn the terrible Shelob from her terrible path of devouring all light? Even his own master had pause to fear her and yet on elf had her cowering in fear? One elf had shorn of the arm of one of his generals? Caused his legions to flee? This…this was unacceptable. Something had to be done and something would be. He smiled thinly at the ring upon his finger, lovingly almost causing the orcs in the room to look sickeningly on as Gurazob himself did as the Nazgûl spoke to its master. "Don't worry my Lord I will take care of this nuisance, this little insect who thinks he can stand up to your great might. And after I am done with him the elves will fall to your might and I will turn them and twist them in your name!"

The ring licked at the walls the dark speech whispering back. "Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."

Smiles of pure cruelty graced the orcs as they looked on at the glowing ring of the Nazgûl. Khamûl himself satisfied at the reassurance of his master's return ceased his own whispers in the black speech. It was time to pay Mirkwood a visit. But first to deal with an incompetent General, his hand stroked a face that was no longer their, unfathomable eyes boring holes into the General who stared back snarling as he did so at the pain the agony making him care little for the Nazgûl or its devices. A dark chuckle enveloped the room…yes…that would do nicely…he could use harrowing tactics to exhaust the elves in the accursed Lothlórien while sending one of his own to his death. Yes that would do quite well indeed.

"You have failed me once General, for that your new destination is Fangorn. Do not return until you have brought me the head of the white witch."

Gulrazob snarled at this for he had wanted to return to Mirkwood and finish what he had started, but it was not to be. Slamming away another goblin that skittered away underfoot bowing as it did so he rose to his full height towering over the shadow of darkness. "I will do as ye say, but I sha'l retur'n and then Mirkwood wil be mine own."

Khamul chuckled to himself as Gulrazob stormed out of the rooms of the fortress. "Go General, think as you wish. For Lord Sauron has no need of maggots such as you. And neither do I." Placating himself with the thought of Gulzarob's head flying off his brutish shoulders he made his way to the chambers below, first to check upon a certain experiment on his, and then to mount his flying beast to dispose of a certain recurring problem in the form of an elf.

Thranduil's face was drawn as he gazed out the window. It was sunset…another day had passed…the smell of sweet burnt flowers filled the air…there had been many burials this day. The smell was pungent as if every elf had come to pay their respects for the fallen…as they had that day…She had died…and he was left alone…his fair haired queen a mere whisper of memory…he only had his son of her…they had wanted more children…more ion nin she had wished for a daughter as well…to play dress up she had even saved several of her necklaces for a daughter…but that day never came…they had no more children…and then she passed on suddenly unexpectedly and he non the wiser had set nonchalantly in council when the messenger arrived…

That had been a dark day…but he had had Legolas…his sun his ion nin…he loved him dearly… some even thought he was too harsh to overprotective but he had to be to protect what was his. If his Adar hadn't taken command of the elves when he did who knows what would have happened. When the news came of a fallen and corrupted queen many turned to panic, but not his Adar…he collected the elves who had lived on their own, in the woods and fields hunting and living life to defend against the darkness that was to come…he did it to protect his own as Thranduil did now…

He did not deny his methods could be painful but his ways brought results…and yet now they failed him…he had turned to soft given his son leave… and yet his son was not a prisoner…not of his own home…never had he purposely instilled fear as he did days ago in the elf…the one who claimed to be his ion nin…and he knew that is was so for it was her eyes and yet like his Adar's eyes and the raw fear in them…broken…the elf was broken…even if he himself did not realize it for though his methods bore down on one they revealed many a time the inner nature of the one before him…and he had feared what he saw and hated himself for it for this was a son he sired yet did not raise…created but did not protect…he had been shocked of what had occurred for to create an elven child it is common that both parents know of the occurrence yet he did not…was he so mired in matters of the state so desperate to return his sons good graces to himself after his marriage that he did not realize this…

And yet what did he care…another ion nin another death…he hated the younger elf…hated him for the amount of his father he saw in him…and her…the Lady Ingwe…she had been that which he lost…not fair haired but fair in speech and a beauty to behold…he had sworn never to love again and yet he did…and though he thought not much of it those of his council spoke to him of marriage…even Galion…they had been worried for his health for he had been in his lowest when he met her…and she made him feel young again…and then the lie…he could not bear lies! His Adar had gave his word to live and he had lied…his faired haired Queen had sworn at the altar forever to the Undying land and beyond and she had died…and Ingwe had lied…she was not who she claimed and now he had a son he had never known of…but he had seen him once before…the memory was sharp because of the eyes…dark blue as hers had been and yet he had thought nothing of it for his Adar's eyes were of a similar shade and a thought had crossed him that perhaps this color was more common than he had thought yet it was not so…and he had hurt him…without even meaning to and yet…he did not wish to live…did not wish more pain for every breath without his ion nin was like poison…his chest tightening as he thought of him…there had been no body only mangled flesh…why had he no ring? Why was Mirkwood not protected? They lived in the heart of darkness and yet they were the least protected of the elven realms! He cursed at Elrond and at Galadriel at the Grey Wizard whose elven ring should have been his! He gripped the windows sill as he gazed at the brilliant setting of the sun alighting the trees in fiery glows. "They do not know…" They do not know that I have no more light left in me to give he whispered the words of his father ringing in his mind…Adar…why were we cursed…what had the elves ever done to Valar to Eru? His eyes beseeched an answer but there was none and with a heavy heart and with tears flowing down his face he sighed heavily his mind once more weighted by his memories…

This was more of a connecting chapter so not that much happening.

Read and Review! Well laters, till next time!