[maikafanawen]

"Scout the area...." Ihwesta mused then nodded. "Good. Arië!" she called softly. "Let's go!" The two trackers made their way around the edge of the forest that thinned as it moved down towards the valley surrounding the hill. Using the bare trees as cover, the elves moved swiftly and undetected closer and closer, searching around for answers to unasked questions. How long had they been there? What was their ultimate goal? And what could be done to stop them?

The hill was mostly of dirt and rock. Only haphazard tuffs of grass remained underneath bristly shrubbery that was long dead. The barren waste ran about forty-five yards up the side of the hill all around except for a steep stone staircase that ran up the Southern side of the hill. On the Northern side there were layered turrets and climbed up the side of the hill all the way to the tower. The way it was built, one could not simply walk a circle around the tower without walking the perimeter of the outer wall.

Ihwesta crept closer, in a crouching-walk, her hands testing the ground before her as if though it would cave under her should too much weight be distributed incorrectly. She risked getting closer and actually crouched behind the very last tree that stood closest to the battlements. She was no longer intimidated so much by its size but by its origin. What devilry held enough power for such a fortress to be built, and who would have located it in such a place as Greenwood? Dear Greenwood the Great!

Ihwesta backed way up into the woods and located a climbable tree that would enable her a descent view of the inside of the wall. What she saw didn't exactly thrill her. Inside was a dreadful sight of instruments and machinery that baffled the mind. At each "station" stood no less than ten orcs worked it with rough unfeeling hands. It wasn't skill that drove their ways but necessity. They were needed to work the equipment so they did. And regrettably they did it fast and flawless.

As the tracker scanned over the area inside she noticed for the first time structures made of both iron and wood that appeared to be some sort of cage. There were living things inside. Living, but unmoving. She squinted her eyes giving her already enhanced vision an extra hundred yards or so of sight. What she saw then took her breath away and she nearly fell from the tree. They were elves! Elves of Greenwood! They were the missing, about two-dozen or so. Their clothes were soiled and their expressions unresponsive. It tore at her heart to look. She watched painfully as a goblin unlocked the cage and threw another exhausted elf roughly inside as though he were no more than a sack of flour or wheat. After the goblin had walked away, a she-elf stood and walked over to the new addition. She lifted him carefully and brought him to the back of the prison where she turned her back on Ihwesta's eyes and began to work on the comatose elf's wounds.

It was too much.

The tracker began to make her way so that she could face the entrance again. She met Arië standing there already. "Seven hundred and thirty-two," said the Younger.

"Seven hundred and thirty-two what?" Ihwesta asked. "Stairs," Arië answered. The Elder rolled her eyes. "And why did you count the stairs?" she asked. The Younger shrugged. "Have you ever seen that many stairs leading up to one thing before?" she interrogated. Ihwesta looked again and imagined orcs in perfect succession walking up to the gate that was being opened by footmen of the Most Wicked who lived there and a large black banner flying from the ramparts. It was a lurid thought. "If they stood side by side in groups of three," she began, "the orcs I mean, almost two and a half thousand of them could set at hand." She sighed, and then lowered her voice for some reason. "Come on, let's go back."

The trackers made it back to the other elves and told them what they'd discovered about the layout of the castle: its weaknesses and strengths—the latter unfortunately outnumbering the former. Ceros rubbed his forehead and glanced nervously over his shoulder even though they were well out of sight of the stronghold.

Ihwesta hadn't mentioned the elves yet. She wasn't sure how. She didn't want to tell them all. Especially those whose family members were among the Missing.

"Ceros," she said quietly as the others talked. "May I have a word?"

"Of course." The two moved off, away from the group and out of earshot. Ihwesta turned to tell him about the elves and looked into his eyes. It was a mistake. The moment their gazes met she forgot her purpose. It was terrible. She was needed to help keep the company together and see this madness through to the victorious end! But now she was unaware of the fellowship off in the clearing just beyond the handful of trees and even worse, she was unaware of the tower atop that malicious hill in that immoral glen.

She shook her head slightly, and blinked. "There was something else," she whispered and Ceros leaned closer so that he might here her words. "I saw...." her voice began to break. "I saw...." a tear fell down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. No, don't cry now. "I saw the Missing," she breathed. "They were in cages only fit for rabid dogs. And they looked frightened and full of hopelessness." Tears streamed down her face again and she looked pleadingly into Ceros's face. "We've got to help them." Then she began to cry openly and the elf held her against him, stroking her hair.

Ihwesta needed to cry, but hated to. It was not a good time for tears but as she thought on it, the more the misery filled her and she sobbed on. Soon it felt as though the blackness of despair had taken over her and the tears subsided. A part of her screamed and tried to tell her that the tears were needed. They are a shield against the anguish that consumes you! the voice pleaded. Shaken, the she-elf allowed them to flow once again and the silvery drops seemed to clear away the darkness.

After what seemed like a long time that in truth was but five minutes, Ihwesta shivered once more and the tears of sadness stopped. The misery was replaced with a vague feeling of optimism that had lighted like a candle in the night. The arms of Ceros wrapped comfortingly around her softened her and only out of modesty for the situation did she pull away. The tracker wiped her moistened eyes and looked shamefully at the ground, her gaze glued to the many blades of grass around her feet.

Then Ceros placed his hand under chin and lifted her head so that she looked at him. Emotions threatened to devour her in a lovely way. Then he spoke.

"We must tell the others. We'll think of something." He gave her another reassuring hug and they made their way back to the clearing. Ihwesta blinked her eyes rapidly. She didn't want them to know she was crying. Her efforts were fruitless and they came again to the elves.

To save Ihwesta the pain, Ceros relayed her story and after he'd finished, there was a mournful silence as the she-elves cried softly. Ihwesta kept her tranquility and prayed that those who cried wouldn't let the despair fill them as it almost did her. She opened her eyes somewhat suddenly as she felt Ceros take her hand. He put a finger to his lips and placed his other hand on the back of her head pulling her forward so that their foreheads touched. "We'll both pray." And so they did as the elves comforted the silently weeping Taurëwen, Arië and Eruwen.

When the tears had subsided for the most part, Ainemetion's eyes grew dark with hatred and he looked at Ceros with heroic determination.

"We've got to do something." Faces turned towards the elf to hear what he had to say. "We've got to get them out of there."

"But how?" Ihwesta asked, sitting cross-legged now. "It won't be too difficult getting in there. All we do is shout a bit. Wave our arms around enough and they'll open the gates and escort us right to them." Scowling, Ainemetion sat back on his feet and furrowed his brow, trying to think of something else.

"We'd have to sneak in," Gilbereth suggested. "Free them, and sneak back out." He shook his head even as he spoke the words. No one knew the condition of the elves. They could be brainwashed for all the fellowship knew.

"Well," Ihwesta said. "What should we do then?"

"You should come with me," said a grotesquely hollow voice. Swords were drawn and arrows were notched in seconds, flying at orcs and slicing into goblins but it was fruitless. They were quickly surrounded and overtaken. Ihwesta struggled against the impossible strength of her captors who quickly bound and gagged her. "Just in case you have any sort of eloquence," the voice said. "You understand." Out from the shadows stepped a man, no, an orc— He laughed at the confused terror on their faces.

"Rhtalk the Half-orc," he said with revolting pride. "We're a delicate breed, and a valuable one." The goblins snarled and Rhtalk's face fell. "Bring them to Amon Lanc," he ordered. The orcs pushed and pulled on the ropes binding the fellowship and dragged them through the forest towards the fortress.