Shapes in the distance enveloped the sunlight and splayed sooty fingers over the valley. The sky darkened as far-away lightening crackled. A mist of rain fell in the distance, like an inky blanket covering the valley as the storm unfurled. The late summer thunderstorm was gathering its dark forces over the edge of the usually sunny dale.

Carelessly through the valley under the storm - over hillock and through the meadows - a once well-traveled roadway wound, up the Mountains of Mirkwood. A few yards from both sides of this passage ran two short walls of moss-covered stacked rock, crumbling and in disarray. On the road, patches of green grass pushed through cracked stones and worn gravel to welcome the spell of rain.


Years had passed since men had walked the stones of that ancient road. Greater and nobler men than now had laid it - stone by stone in long lost times. It was once a proud way traveled by Elves, Dwarves, even Men, during the Lem-Noran, the Days of Light, in the years that followed the destruction of the One Ring and the ruin of the foul servant of Morgoth.

The High King of Nùmenor, his great-grandsons now long passed and his dictates near forgotten, had once graced its seamless cobbleways. The roadway now lay lonely through the lush valley, a silent reminder of a grander age of grander men.

And now its course was quiet. Rarely did any save bird or beast walk upon it. But today, as greyness swallowed the sun’s warmth, a lone figure trudged over its stones.


She walked southward on the road. She was garbed in a dark green cloak, stained and tattered in places, and her hair was a brownish black; dark and rich with curls that hung about her face wildly. She held a long bow in her left hand, and a quiver of arrows hung across her back. She wore black riding boots to her knees, and worn breeches. A long knife was strapped to her leg. As she walked, three times she stopped in mid-step, crouched to the ground, and peered this way and that, surveying the road.

Something was off. Different. She felt as though another presence was near--yet could see or hear no one. The Mirkwoos Mountains were seldom travelled on by any. The cloak of her hood was up as the rain came down--causing her clothing to dampen and cling.

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Cape on; hood up. Legolas Greenleaf walked the treacherous paths of the Mirkwood Mountains. He mubbled under his breath. 'Why did father send ME to get her...why couldn't her FATHER bring her back...' He rambled on until his blue eyes saw another presence. That must be her..oh joy.., he thought. His boot clad feet made little noise as he walked over the snow. Elves were light, and came from the earth. They could communicate with nature. They were also known for walking on snow. His feet made hardly any foot prints, leaving it hard to track him.

He walked out of the mountain pass and onto the road. He smiled triumphantly, yet kicking himself mentally for having to actually GET her. With light and speed he ran up to her and grabbed her arm firmly. A quiver of Mirkwood fill with arrows were upon his back. Accompanying this were his two whote elven long knives, and a dark longbow of Mirkwood. His attire of teh Silvan folk blended him well in teh surrounding elements of the woods.

"Stop!" He said firmly. "I was sent to bring you back to your father. Come with me now and I won't have to do things the difficult way." He warned her sternly. His face and expression serious. Deadly. Absolute hostility.

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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'Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow...an Elf.'

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