Disclaimer: I do not own the LotRs, only my character.

Yes, finally I have part of the sequel up. For those who are new, this is the sequel to my first fanfic 'Deorwynn'. This will be focusing on Deorwynn and Legolas' conflict with the sass king Thranduil. Enjoy this little teaser for now.

"I would take a single lifetime shared with you than a millennium regretting it."

"Do you really think it could be real?"

A promise was made there and then.

The wind howled through the ancient trees, their bare branches swayed and groaned in protest. I could feel the storm's icy grasp reaching out for me and Fanor as we rode back to Minas Tirith, staying one step ahead to the oncoming rain. The black steed snorted loudly and increased his pace without my prompting, so all I had to do was keep low and not let go of the reigns. I had them wrapped around my hands so tight I could feel them cutting into my riding gloves.

I found the stinging sensation of breathing in the icy wind both painful and yet pleasant. Perhaps I soat the pain to distract my thoughts.

It was almost two years to the day Aragorn ascended the throne, and needless to say it had not been the smoothest of paths. Conflicts in the East and South were still a daily concern, and forging and reforging alliances involved a lot more than mere promises.

In fact I had spent the last two weeks in the midst of another political fight amongst the members of the council, trying my best to keep peace between rival factions and arrange everything else in between. Aragorn was working just as hard as I, perhaps even more so due to the campaigns north of Ithilien. There was still so much work to be accomplished before 'true peace' can be declared.

My daily rides were my distraction, and at this point I truly needed a moment's respite from the headaches. I had seen the dark clouds gathering in the south but still risked the chance to ride out. There was no way I would deny myself my weekly pleasure.

As I had been told once before, I was as stubborn as my father and as tough as a Proudfoot, whatever that actually meant.

Fanor slowed until he came to a complete stop just as the forest's edge was in sight. The proud beast's ears flicked back and forth and he circled back round. He stamped the ground in anger, as if to ward off an unseen foe. Something had gotten him riled up. I weaved a hand though his mane and gripped the thick muscle underneath. "Easy boy, easy." I calmly muttered, "What is it?"

The thunder drowned out all but the sound of the Fanor's panting, so I had to rely on my sight to determine the cause of the horse's discomfort. At first all I saw was the skinny trunks, twisting across one another.

'What can you see that I can not?'

A gust of wind hit me and sent my cape flying, revealing the bow strapped to my saddle. The thick blue material of my gown protected all but my face from the intense chill. I started to feel the scars on my arms pulsating painfully and I knew there was indeed something out there. My suspicious were confirmed when I saw movement between the trees. Without taking my eyes off it I unclipped the bow. I knew for a fact that nothing larger than a fox inhabited this forest and the way it moved did not seem human.

There was more movement out of the corner of my eye, it was closer than the one ahead on me. An ambush? No, the threat did not feel that great.

Wary of both targets, I removed two slim arrows from the quiver I had modified for my saddle. I held one between my teeth and cocked the other, resting the tip on the smooth handle of the bow. I wished that I had removed my gloves beforehand, I felt more in control of the bow when I could feel the stress of the weapon when I drew the string back. The muscles in my shoulder clenched automatically before I relaxed them.

I aimed my weapon straight ahead, kept my eyesight elsewhere. Fanor pawed the ground again. I squeezed my legs tightly and he stilled himself. My own heart raced in anticipation, a sensation I never grew tired of. It heightened my senses and aided in battle, and it also aided me now. I heard not the howl of the wind, but the combined sound of the air escaping between my teeth, Fanor's snorting and the ragged breaths of the enemy. It was a sound I had grown all too familiar with.

To my left.

I redirected my aim and let loose the arrow. It hit the oncoming target with such force it was like it had been thrown back two feet. I was just as I had suspected.

Orcs.

It let out an ear piercing shriek as it writhed about in the dirt, which was echoed by another orc. I notched the second arrow and shot into the forest. The arrow disappeared into the trees, but I heard the short outcry of the retreating orc.

I spurred Fanor towards the fallen creature as it bled out over the gnarly roots. It had tried to pull out the arrow but had only broken off the end. It was the sickliest looking orc I had seen. Its was skinny to the point of being a skeleton, covered with dark skin that was riddled with calloused scars and diseased mumps of sorts. White form gathered at the corners of its mouth as it snapped profanities at me in the Black Speech before succumbing to its fate.

This was troubling. Orcs east of the Anduin was not a good sign, considering the Rangers had spent the last six months driving them south of Ithilien. Even if it was only two, who knew how many of the foul creatures were lurking the lifeless forest. The stinging of my scars started to go down but did not completely fade.

I hooked the back onto the saddle and urged Fanor back onto our path, flicking the reigns to encourage him to gallop.

I would have to tell Aragorn of this.