Hi y'all! So I am super excited for you to read this next chapter. It's probably my favorite one yet, and I hope it's yours too! Two quick things: one, the last chapter really sets up this chapter, so I would recommend just skimming through Chapter 10 a bit, before reading this. Also, on an exciting note, I move into University next week! I'm very excited and nervous at the same time! However because of this, I have absolutely no clue when the next chapter will be out. I don't know what my class schedule will be like, and I mean it's college! I mean, I wanna live! So that's that, like I said, I'm notoriously a slow writer anyway, but I have no promise of another chapter coming soon. I'm NOT stopping this story, I promise! I'm really enjoying myself writing this, and it's great to do in my down time. It's just that I don't believe there will be a lot of down time in the next 2-4 weeks! It really makes me so happy to see people reviewing, following, and favoriting! Please do so!

Thanks for being so supportive and great over the journey of this story! I thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

~feltetteluvtomfelton

At a terrifying speed, both cave trolls ascended to their feet as they dashed in Amitiel's direction. He felt the vibrations of their steps through the roots of the tree as they transcended into his hands and feet, echoing in his chest. Pinning his ears back to the threat and bracing himself, Amitiel held on adamantly to a vigorously enforced branch. Predictably, he lurched forward and slammed back as the cave trolls in turn pushed and pulled the tree in an attempt to fling the Princeling from his perch. The tree groaned in the unnatural motion but refused to crack. The cave trolls bellowed in frustration at not making progress; looking down, Amitiel could see the hunger in their stony eyes. Showing unusual intelligence for notoriously having small brains, together they grabbed at the base of the tree and made corkscrew-like motions. It was as if opening a bottle of vintage wine, as they twisted it's foundation. All at once a heartbreaking melody of clapping and splintering deafened the night air, and then an enormous pop! Like pulling a carrot from the stubborn earth, the tree was entirely uprooted. Lifted up to the moon effortlessly, Amitiel could almost taste stardust he was up so high. Victorious gargling noises erupted from the orcs, Uriel meanwhile had eyes the size of saucers watching his friend hanging by the heavens' doorstep.

All at once, the cave-trolls in a one fallen swoop dropped the grand tree altogether. The spruce wailed in protest, almost in disbelief that it being over a hundred years old would die this night. The pull of gravity from such a soaring pinnacle was terrifying, but Amitiel saw that he would be remiss to ignore an opportunity like this. With a sword in each hand, he dropped from his branch as he sprinting downward along the tree's trunk. Branches whipped his cheeks as he felt his speed immensely increase with each stride. In one last step, Amitiel pushed with the ball of his foot off the trunk; lunging, he found himself rolling forward as his back made contact with the massive cave troll's shoulders, falling feet first and parallel to the beast's back. To break his fall and lessen his speed, he stabbed outward. The blade punctured the beast's hide and ran down the entire length of his back. Outraged, the cave troll growled viciously. In an attempt to get the elfing off his sliced backside, he quickly seized backwards and reached behind hoping to swat away the pest. Amitiel made a less than graceful tumble into the ground as he watched the enormous monster flail in pain. In his clumsiness and convulsions of agony, the cave troll's heel was caught by the fallen and uprooted spruce as he tripped backwards. The Princeling felt the ground tremble underneath from the powerful collision of monster and earth.

Popping back to his feet, Amitiel moved quickly as he climbed upon the giant collapsed beast. Frustrated beyond measure, the cave troll tried to get up but before he could make any progress, the Princeling promptly took out his bow. Knocking three arrows, he pushed the cave trolls chin backwards with his foot, exposing his neck. Everyone is vulnerable at the neck. If you can't get a clear shot at the heart, the neck is always second best. His father's century-old advice rattled his head as he released and the beast exhaled it's last breath.

There was no time to take a small victory respite for him to collect any thought.

"Look out!" Uriel beseeched anxiously. Before Amitiel could turn his head to even look for the other cave troll, the creature curved his hand. Knuckles the size of chandeliers slammed into the Princeling's whole body; to the cave troll, it was as insignificant as backhanding a fly. Uriel's mouth was gaping, a shiver ran down his spine watching Amitiel's whole body shudder from the impact. Resembling a rock being skipped across water, Amitiel's body flung violently as he twirled and tumbled unnaturally from air to ground to air again. What stopped this vaulting catastrophe was the mercy of being slammed into the trunk of an oak. The wind was knocked out of him; he contorted on the forest's floor in agony. In that moment, every muscle was screaming and every bone felt shattered beyond repair.

Shazog smiled in composed delight to himself,

"Bring him." As soon as his words penetrated the air, three orcs in a frenzied glee ripped through the crowd towards the young Amitiel, whom could not even get up on his knees to save his life. He felt like he was about to expel everything from his stomach or pass out or both as he grinded his forehead into the cold dirt trying to keep his mind off the pain.

"Get up! For the love of Iluvatar, stand up!" Uriel was gruffly kicked in the ribs to silence him. Amitiel heard his friend's plea, and pushed up with his hand as his shoulders ascended for only a second until he yielded to his body and crumpled to the ground once more. But Uriel couldn't stand to see Amitiel like this, the beloved fallen and wounded Princeling. It was more than that though, this was his best friend. His best friend was strong, enduring, and stubborn above all; he'd refuse to die like this. The three orcs were getting closer to the folded body.

"Get up! You've never walked away from anything in your entire life! You've fought your whole life and that's what has made you strong!" Again, Uriel was severely kicked in the chest with uncompromising force.

"It doesn't matter if you have all the strength in the world if you are first and foremost a coward." Shazog explained as Uriel sneered in disgust. He couldn't believe that this was the orc that killed the princess a year ago; Celdanine was a second mother to him. She deserved a longer life and a painless death. He observed his awful, disfigured face with eyebrow piercings and an emotionless blind eye. Insects infested his sickening, infected wounds which gouged the entirety of his body, resembling a marbled cake. He could see why Amitiel refused to sleep when this entity intruded the mind nightly.

Gruffly taken from his shoulders by the orcs, Amitiel gasped through his teeth vigorously due to his body's protest. For the first time in his life, the Princeling felt betrayed by it. His body always surrendered to his mind's every whim, and now it was like they were entirely separate, only held together by his soul. His bow and swords were sprawled along every which way, his only remaining weapon was his mother's long knife worn across his back. His feet dragged behind him as he was led closer and closer to Shazog. Uriel held saddened eye contact, but the Princeling refused to see his friend's disappointed look so he averted his gaze.

Is this really how this is going to end? He thought to himself. My mother died for this? For me to die by her own murderer? My best friend who has stayed by my side for decades is going to die...because of me? His mother and father will fade to grief...because of me? The guilt was staggering.

Thrown down into the inflexible earth, Amitiel had only a view of Shazog's revolting feet.

"Bowing to me? Now that flatters me beyond words, Princeling."

"I bow to no one in my own realm except for my King." Amitiel could barely whisper through the pain. Between the gap of Shazog's calloused heels, he saw his great-grandfather's river. Diminished as it was, it was lapping almost excitedly, begging Amitiel to release the incantation. Maybe it's not over yet, he thought, still a drop of hope running through his heart. Not even three Sindarin words fell from his bruised lips,

"Bind and gag him!" Shazog barked frantically, "Do not let that foul language reach the river!" Immediately, an orc pulled a thick, bristly rope to Amitiel's mouth and tied it firmly at the back of his head as another orc tethered his wrists together. The constrictions were so taut and binding that they were breaking skin; his blood dribbled lazily. The old laceration upon his cheek that he had received a year ago reopened. His ears pricked to Shazog's unnerving laughter.

"What a big, responsible elfing you are!" He mused in utmost sarcasm, "Trying to hide behind Oropher's river, taking down a whole cave troll by yourself...but-" he made a tut tut kind of noise that a mother might do so that her children do not bite their fingernails, "it would appear that you miscalculated. You see...I am not like other orcs, Princeling." Shazog enraptured the entire company of orcs at this statement, almost begging to hear the further explanation of this all over again.

"You see, I was the first of my kind to drink from an immortal...to feel the power of Eldar light. The second your dear mother's blood reached my lips, I felt a force so potent that I needed to share it with the rest of my kin." Amitiel gnawed at the rope in anger; the fact that his mother was fodder for this monstrosity was macabre at best.

"No one can know the power of immortality until it is given...or rather taken. Which is why you and your kin are the perfect vessels. First the wild Greenwood elves shall go, then Lothlorien and Imladris high elves will follow."

"You'd have to get past King Thranduil first." Uriel bellowed, "There's a higher chance of Mount Doom becoming a glacier, than that happening. Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond will have your heads on spikes if you so much take a breath of their air." Shazog towered over him, enjoying his flinching to predictable punishment for his outburst.

"You're forgetting, there's nothing Thranduil wouldn't give us with his precious grandson hanging in the balance." The Princeling's fight with the ropes lessened when he mentioned his grandfather. He still remembered being pulled into his study when his father had ridden away to Rivendell.

(FLASHBACK)

"I need to be utmost clear and honest with you, Amitiel." He begun as he shared a gaze with Celdanine. Not another soul was present in this room, even the guard that would've been right outside the door had been asked to go down the corridor further still. It was obvious that this was going to be an important conversation. "Your life and welfare has always been vital to this Greenwood, now more than ever with your father away." Amitiel had at first been nervous to know what his grandfather was trying to say. His face was still raw with tears from his father's emotionally draining departure. Thranduil sighed as he took a step closer to the youngling and placed his hands on his shoulders, allowing Amitiel to marvel at his seemingly colossal and intimidating height.

"You must understand this," Thranduil spoke making sure his eyes were piercing and communicating with Amitiel's, "there is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe. I quite honestly been nothing. Do not put me in that position. If it is your life that should be bargained for, do not think for a moment the price that could be paid wouldn't be enormous."

"No," Amitiel spoke blazingly, "you can't risk everything because of my life! Our people...you're telling me you'd sacrifice them if some bastard pressed a knife to my back? You can't mean that!" Thranduil and Celdanine both admired his ability to speak up when he didn't like what he heard.

"Amitiel, some of my most loyal captain of the guards would have no hesitation to cut my head clean off if it meant their children would be safe. It's an understanding we all have being elves, and it's far different from men. Elflings are preciously conceived and raised in times of prosperity and peace; how rare it is to have one of both, much less both. They are the sole priority of all elves. You are the last born of true Sindarin lineage in our small family, and beyond that you are my only grandson. An absolute treasure you are in my eyes, whether you know it or not."

"Sweetheart," his mother spoke with a voice as melodic as rain, "you will understand this when you have children of your own someday. You would do everything in your power to protect them, to ensure their safety."

"She's right, anything and everything." Thranduil agreed.

"Everything? That's funny considering you sent your heir and only son to war!" Irately, Amitiel escaped Thranduil's grasp and stormed out of the study.

"Amitiel!" Celdanine scolded in disbelief as the Princeling slammed the door behind him. Slumping into an armchair by the fire, Thranduil put his head in his hands in pure exhaustion. Celdanine in worriment hurriedly kneeled in front of him and placed her hands on his knees to comfort,

"Thranduil," her voice was breaking and crippled by tears, "please. He's so angry and confused with Legolas gone. He didn't mean it, I swear by it." Thranduil looked up from his hands and took Celdanine's soft and warm ones in his,

"I know he didn't, but he's right. I did send Legolas off to war." Tears too began to gather in his eyes, "But how could I deny him his right to do anything and everything to protect his own child."

Amitiel could only stare at the moon from his perch in a beech tree for so long until night fell and he had to return to the fortress. Guilt had hindered Amitiel's ability to think clearly, it weighed heavily upon him as he strutted throughout the caverns. Unreservedly, he entered the imperial study with his King still in his favorite armchair next to the fire well into his 10th bottle of wine. Startled by his abrupt presence, Thranduil stood.

"Oh it's you. What's wrong? You should be in bed." Falling to his knees, and then bending down with forearms and forehead placed on the cold stone in a deep bow, Amitiel heaved,

"I beg for your forgiveness. My words were poison and I never meant to hurt you. I didn't mean it, I spoke in frustration. I-" Thranduil didn't allow Amitiel to continue as he pulled his grandson up from his knees to his feet into a crushing embrace. Hearing his grandfather's heartbeat gave the Princeling much comfort. Closing his eyes, tears escaped and trailed down his cheeks,

"I don't know what I'm going to do without him." Amitiel spoke.

"Our fears are very much alike." Thranduil spoke kindly.

"I don't know what I would do without you." Amitiel spoke again as he buried his head more into the velvet robes. Thranduil smiled,

"You'd have one less person nagging you." This rendered both of them a fit of laughter that was very much welcomed after such a solemn day.

(BACK TO AMITIEL)

Amitiel closed his eyes for only a moment, allowing his Eldar light begin to heal and rejuvenate him. He felt his bones repairing, his muscles relaxing, but the unbridled rage was all the more present. The shards made themselves known as they traveled through his veins, a thirst for demolition and savagery.

The blood from his cheek still dribbled and began to make it's way down Amitiel's neck. Shazog watched zealously, as if it were honey trickling from a lemon cake. Taking his disgusting middle and index fingers, Shazog traced the cut as he brought the sampling to his lips. The Princeling didn't look away, he willingly watched this creature assess his blood like frosting. A satisfied grumble resonated within the orc. All at once, Amitiel felt every platinum-gold follicle from his scalp being pulled upwards as he was forced to his knees. He refused to release any noise, that would only gratify his mother's murderer even more. Instead in the solitude of his mind, he cursed the damned locks that had caused nothing but trouble this day. Shazog grasped the fine hair like a dog's neck; he crouched to be at eye level with the Princeling. The odor from this creature masked all other smells, their faces a mere arrowhead apart. Shazog took the Princeling's jaw,

"Our encounter, while inevitable, is premature. You are an invaluable part of this grand plan, and you are playing it perfectly." In a menacing manner, Shazog then turned hungrily towards poor, nervous Uriel. "However," Shazog continued, still all the more examining him intently like a chunk of meat, "he is fit to consume-"

All of a sudden, Shazog released an outburst of pain as he released Amitiel all at once. His captive collapsed to the ground with a thud. Quickly, Amitiel craned his neck up to look at whatever caused the unexpected tantrum. The grisly hand that once held the back of Amitiel's hair had been punctured by the blue glow of a knife; his black blood began to ooze like tree sap.

"My feared Shazog! The cloaked knife-dancer! He's back!" The orc with scared lips beckoned hysterically in fear for his life. Amitiel couldn't see what they were talking about with his back against it, but could feel the presence of something not orc kind. Uriel couldn't see anything either due to the dense darkness, but watched wide-eyed as orc in threes and fours began to silently fall dead with not an utterance of complaint. Then, as though a phantom that treaded upon hallowed ground, the supposed "knife-dancer" dressed in a regal, indigo cloak appeared from mist and shadow with glimmering blades resting in his hands, ready to be thrown.

"Form ranks, you stupid cretins!" Shazog howled, cradling his hand as he and the rest of his company rushed to fight off this cloaked figure. It was obvious there was a history with this person, he was a well-known threat. Taking advantage of the discord, Uriel crawled over to his friend and freed him of his ropes. Popping up immediately, Amitiel ripped the gag from his mouth and bellowed,

"SHAZOG!" The Princeling gathered his mother's long knife from his back. Uriel extended his arm outward to stop him.

"Amitiel, enough of this. We are leaving now! Before anyone sees us!"

"I'M DONE HIDING FROM THIS, URIEL!" Amitiel exploded, "I WILL END THIS WITH OR WITHOUT YOU! I COULDN'T CARE LESS! STAY OUT OF MY WAY!" With that he shoved his friend away roughly and began his need for revenge. Running in a blinding rage, he slashed the knife back and forth cutting down the hellions as they came. The morgul shards within him were making him stronger, giving more devastating wounds, offering no mercy. The cloaked "knife dancer" fought gracefully; his blades pierced every foe to come up against him. Piercing swishing noises penetrated the night air as the knives effortlessly took life in reams. Amitiel and the stranger were back to back offering coverage to the other as they slowly went in circles. His face was completely concealed by the indigo hood, but his attitude when fighting was detectable. It was obvious that he had a score to settle. Perfect, Amitiel thought to himself as he cut an orc's neck so deeply in one slash that the head was almost clean off. Behind this fallen foe was none other than Shazog who had a fatal arrow notched in an equally fatal bow aimed at the "knife dancer."

"LOOK OUT!" Amitiel yelled taking the cloaked man by his surprisingly small waist and tumbledto the ground, evading the arrow as it whizzed over their heads and plummeted into a nearby tree.

"Get off me! What are you doing? You're trying to get us all killed!" He voiced angrily as he immediately shot up on the offensive again. Amitiel lay stunned for a moment still on the ground,

"You're welcome," He spoke kicking a truculent orc in the chest as the miserable creature sprawled backwards and fell in the fire.

"I believe you are the greenest being in this entire forest." The man declared dangerously; there was something just not right about his voice. It was entirely a chest voice, a forced one to speak in a lower octave.

Amitiel had done immense damage, ten folds the amount due to the morgul wound. It was almost as though the shards ran up and down his body to deliver the destructive blows; in a sense, it wasn't even Amitiel fighting. It was as if all his fears, heartaches, and shortcomings became his advantage as they fueled his ruinous flame for retaliation. The "knife dancer" moved in breathtaking spiral coiling and uncoiling movements to wind up his throws as the knives extended to their targets. Where he met resistance, he simply twirled the other way, his feet barely skimming the ground. Thrown back to reality, Amitiel was lifted off his feet by the buckles of his breast plate only to be tossed towards the fire. Arching his back, the flames only licked at his backside and slightly singed the ends of his hair. His hand made contact with the ground as he sprung himself backward to land on his feet on the other side of the blaze next to the spike bomb. Shazog watched through the flame as he began to advance. Use your environment always, Amitiel. Manipulate it to save your life. Again for the umpteenth time, the Princeling heard his father echoing through him as if from the deepest chamber of his memory. Widening his stance, Amitiel forced himself to be patient as Shazog got all the more closer. As soon as he saw that indifferent blind eye reflected by the flame, Amitiel in a swoop of his leg kicked up the embers as they flailed to Shazog's face. In a furious state, the orc snarled, brushing the embers away frantically. While he was stunned, it was now or never to deliver the final blow. Instinctively, Amitiel reached back for his bow to only feel his empty backside and only a lonesome quiver of arrows. His eyes frantically searched the clearing but there was no sign of it in the deafening chaos. As fast as Shazog had become stunned, he quickly regained focus. Striking Amitiel in the temple with his meaty hand, the Princeling crumbled to his hands and knees in a confused daze. He desperately tried to stand but his equilibrium was faulty, so he just stared up at the aggressor with fuzzy vision and seeing double.

"You rely on that bow of yours too much. I will see you again, Princeling. Don't you worry." Shazog growled as he turned on his heel towards the pack of gurgling wargs. A fury like none before whipped through Amitiel, he refused not to end this right here...right now. A whole year of sleepless nights and paralyzing guilt because of this damned demon that walked this earth. His mother was innocent, the most virtuous creature who above everything loved her son.

"SHAZOG!" Amitiel roared, still struggling with his vision but even he could see that Shazog stopped in his tracks to hear what he had to say, "Amitiel..." He breathed, the single word resonated as wind.

"What did you say?" Shazog implored, still his back to the Princeling but his head turned to hear better. Slamming his fist into the ground, Amitiel forced himself to stand as wobbly as he was, and beckoned,

"AMITIEL! MY NAME IS AMITIEL! REMEMBER IT, BECAUSE IT WILL BE THE LAST WORD ON YOUR LIPS! AND BEFORE THE FUCKING SEA CALLS MY NAME TO VALINOR, I WILL OFFER YOU NO MERCY AS MY ARROW TUNNELS INTO YOUR THROAT AND THE MAGGOTS FEED ON YOUR BODY!" Amitiel bent down on his knee as he brushed his mother's blade Numen against the silky grass and weed, cleaning it of the orc's blood. Shazog turned all the way to watch in curiosity. Now standing in a strong baring, Amitiel extended his hand with the palm up. Not taking his eyes off of Shazog's, he ran the knife down in a diagonal across the palm. Blood trickled as he grasped his hand in an uncompromising fist.

"Before Iluvatar, and all that is good in this world, I pledge this promise: That I, Amitiel Legolasion, do solemnly swear by my heart and soul that I will not rest until every orc is nothing but ash and a forgotten memory." His Eldar light seeped into his hand. Opening his fist, the cut was no longer. His chest heaved from the outburst followed by his intense, solemn, spiritual vow, as he watched the ashy orc stand perfectly still. There was seemingly silence through the chaos, until Shazog offered a chuckle and uttered,

"Well Amitiel, I look forward to our next meeting. It's a shame that my foolish scout cut your neck with that morgul blade, I would've liked to have done it myself, to be the cause of your demise." He began walking though the carnage as he mounted his silvery, hideous warg,

"RETREAT!" At once, all remaining orcs followed suit as they convoyed behind their leader out of the clearing and into the woods, being still pursued by the stranger's knives. Some went West whilst others separated and went South. Amitiel observed even through the darkness, that Shazog had made the point to offer a repugnant, bestial smile before departing.

"No rest for the wicked!" The stranger beckoned as he evaded nimbly the grabbing hands of the last remaining cave troll, whom had every intention of picking him up as a ragdoll to devour for a future meal. Amitiel ran to help, his vision still not all too clear. As a maniac might do, he waved his arms around and began jumping up and down to get the troll's attention,

"Hey! Down here!" The cave troll followed the sound of Amitiel's voice, but it took him several different views until he finally found the bouncing blonde. "Stupid beyond measure" was how they were generally described, and Amitiel found this to be accurate in every way. "I would make fun of you but you wouldn't understand it!" Amitiel shouted as the troll's eyes darted in anger at the Princeling. The ground rumbled as the cave troll began to give chase as Amitiel lured him away from the helpful stranger, only for the youngling to quickly turn around and run through the giant's legs behind him. Moaning in disorientation, the cave troll clearly hated to change direction at a whim's notice. Together, Amitiel and the stranger sprinted back into the coverage of the woods where Uriel was waiting. They slid behind tree trunks, exposed roots, and boulders as they watched the frustrated cave troll desperately try to find them.

"Let's go! He won't be able to find us!" Uriel pleaded to his friend, seemingly oblivious to the stranger in the indigo cloak who watched the troll intently and hardly paid any attention to the elves he helped save. Amitiel gave a good hard look at Uriel, with his chest still heaving from all the violence and drama that had occurred,

"Uriel, that creature won't stop until he has picked his teeth with us. Then he will just follow his nose and rip down the fortress stone by stone and layer by layer until he has done exactly what Shazog ordered him to do. We have to stop him here." Amitiel couldn't help but grasp his wounded neck, that had become painful and tight once more.

"Alright, so just release that incantation again on the river! Then let's get out of here!" Uriel spoke in desperation, but Amitiel knew he didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

"It's too weak to take the monster down all together. I don't know what those orcs did, but they've crippled it...Hang on." Amitiel took a gander at the middle of the clearing where the fire was still going, and couldn't help but notice that the cloaked stranger saw it too. "The spike bomb...why would they have left that?"

"Does it matter? Let's use it to our advantage." The stranger spoke as he turned towards Uriel and Amitiel, "Any ideas?" Amitiel took the other side of the tree trunk, the cave troll continued to get closer. Time was of the utmost importance. He glanced at the river, then the fire, then the spike bomb again. On the far side of the clearing, he could just make out the shimmer of his dual blades by the enormous oak tree, where he knew his bow was bound to be as well.

"Alright," Amitiel spoke in a whisper as the three of them huddled up to hear the plan, "if the two of you could distract him and lead him by the spike bomb and then get in the river, I could shoot an arrow through the fire at the bomb. The fletching with catch the flame and detonate it all together."

"Wait! That's crazy!" Uriel barked, only to be shushed by the other two for being too loud. Rolling his emerald eyes, Uriel whispered, "There's no telling how powerful that bomb is going to be. The powder measurements could be astronomical. We could be blasted into oblivion!"

"That's why we will get completely submerged in the river. It may not be able to take down a cave troll, but it will protect us from the explosion." Amitiel explained but it was no use, Uriel was shaking his head in disbelief of what they were about to do. How could he ever explain to his mother that he had to detonate a spike bomb to obliterate a cave troll?

"Sure, fine, whatever," the stranger intervened with sarcasm, "but listen oh sagely whiz, you don't have a bow to take the shot." Amitiel furrowed his eyebrows to the mockery,

"Wisecrack, it's over there on the edge of the other side of the clearing."

"But how would you get there quickly enough? This has to be fast, by the time your friend and I have lead that thing over to the bomb, you would've just gotten to it." The mystery knife thrower explained. The Princeling didn't speak, but instead released a soft whistle, to which the stranger thought he was cagier still. The tone of the whistle told his elk to tread quietly and carefully. In little time, the familiar rack of antlers came out of the woods and came faithfully to Amitiel. He brayed faintly, nuzzling his master's cheek tenderly as Amitiel scratched his nose in return.

"What is that thing?!" The stranger demanded, slightly scared to be so close to such a wildly unbroken, only slightly tamed animal.

"Valan," Amitiel whispered getting up to his feet. He grappled the animal's neck as the elk offered his master his curled foot to use as a ladder rung. With ease, Amitiel mounted the enormous creature. Although the stranger's face was concealed, Amitiel could tell that he was somewhat unconvinced,

"Are you sure you can even take the shot? I hope you have a better aim than you do with melee." The stranger's voice had changed dramatically, no longer did it boom in the chest. It was the disapproving tone of a fearless woman.

"Who exactly are you? What are you even doing here?" Amitiel had to ask as he tried to decipher characteristics in the face but couldn't.

"I could ask you the same," she spoke, " but then we would just be wasting time we don't have." Uriel rubbed his eyes in annoyance,

"Alright, enough! Let's get this over with. Strange lady in the cloak, you'll just have to trust him. I can assure you that his bowmanship excels for his age and a thousand years older." The 'strange lady in the cloak' that Uriel accurately and reasonably depicted, crossed her arms as a defense mechanism,

"Neither of you have earned my trust." Amitiel could definitely respect that, as he had said something of that exact ilk to Radagast earlier in the day. It was precisely his nature to not trust immediately as his grandfather had always shown him whether consciously or not.

"I understand-" Amitiel had begun.

"Besides, this is the same guy that just sliced open his own hand on purpose." She finished, and officially began antagonizing Amitiel. He began,

"I was making a sacred vow to-"

"That's it!" Uriel hissed, "Let's just get this over with and kill this damned troll! Amitiel, are you ready?" Amitiel was all the more inquisitive of whom this mystery woman could be...was she even a woman or was she an elleth? Whatever or whoever she was, her knife throwing was something to behold. He decided to put these thoughts aside as he took a hold of Valan's fur and tightened his knees around his ribcage. Nodding, he took a final look at Uriel and the cloaked stranger. It was now or never, the troll was about to reach a hand into their hiding spot like reaching into a beehive.

Squeezing Valan's sides, the elk sprung forward as they jumped into the clearing much to the troll's surprise. About to chase after the Princeling on the elk, the troll growled as the earth thundered beneath his iron footing. That is until he felt faint but sharp inflictions upon his backside. Turning, he found the stranger in the indigo cloak unreservedly throwing knife after knife at him with Uriel brandishing a long sword. Since days of elfhood, Uriel had always been more adept with a sword than a bow. Although a commonplace weapon for any warrior, to Uriel it was superior to anything else. Biting back immense fear, he rushed to the troll's foot as he stabbed at the webbing between the two largest toes. The cave troll howled in anger as he attempted to stomp upon the green-eyed elf. But Uriel simply sidestepped and as soon as the troll's foot contacted the ground once more, he slashed at the ankle.

Valan galloped towards the other side of the clearing as Amitiel quickly flung himself off the elk as he collected his dual swords and sheathed them in their scabbards. Crouching, he swiped his arms in fan-like motions through the grass trying to feel for his longbow. In the darkness, and so far away from the only light of the fire, Amitiel had small hope of finding it at all. Tilting his head slightly up, as if a predestined miracle, the bow was resting upon the trunk of the gargantuan oak tree in an eerie manner. It was almost as if the forest was fighting with him, and desperately wanted him to succeed. The Elven fiber that strung the bow offered a glint of incandescence. Scrambling, Amitiel grabbed the longbow like being reunited with an old friend, as he hopped back on Valan.

"I've got it! Get to the river!" By his master's will, Valan gave a hiccup of a bolt before returning to his usual, patterned leaps as they began to ride towards the glimmer of Oropher's decreased river.

As soon as Uriel and the stranger had lured the cave troll near the fire and spike bomb, they obeyed Amitiel as they both retreated to the river. It went against every sense in Uriel to stand motionless, knee deep in the once so dangerous river, against a cave troll. But beyond all that, he trusted his stubborn friend more than anything. It went further against any sensibility the stranger had even more as she stood there wondering what in the world she was thinking to go through with this crazy idea, with people she didn't know in the slightest. The cave troll was about to take a step toward the river, but Amitiel steered Valan to fly straight through the gap in it's legs. It greatly startled the beast as it growled in an outburst of bewilderment. Charging, Valan jumped into the river as Amitiel quickly launched himself in the water, bow in hand. Knocking an arrow from his quiver, he took aim at the fire, waiting to see the spikes from the bomb through the flame.

"Now!" The stranger shrieked, not able to take this suspense any longer and thoroughly horrified that she had no throwing knives left. She was defenseless except for this ludicrous idea. Amitiel ignored her outcry, and breathed, pulling the fletching to his cheek.

"May Oropher's river protect us and the Greenwood from this impending inferno." The Sindarin plea fell from Amitiel's lips. Uriel and the stranger watched in amazement as the river appeared to move in unnatural convulsions around Amitiel's legs. In a sense, it was the greatest comfort the Princeling could have had. The cave troll bellowed a bone pulsating roar as he began to charge right towards them. Finding his mark through the blaze, Amitiel without a second thought released. The arrow shredded through the air as it punctured the fire and gored the spike bomb diligently.

An ear-splitting explosion defiled the tranquility of the forest. Horrified, the three of them watched as the bomb opened to a composition of scarlet, saffron, amber, and an icy cyan of fire that was about to consume everything in it's path. The heat was instantaneous, and the light was garishly aglow. Instinctive reflexes showing, Uriel and the stranger shielded their faces with their arms from the inescapable demolition. Valan released an alarmed whinny as he reared up on his hind legs in terror. Although this was only the second time Amitiel had ever summoned the river, his trust in it was apparent as he did nothing to protect himself. Instead, he stood tall and firm as if meeting his maker boldly without fear or agitation. Before the oil painting of fire reached the tip of Amitiel's narrow nose, he felt the true power of the river beneath him. It climbed his legs as it leapt outwards from his chest and then hurriedly whipped around, encircling the three of them in addition to Valan. The water created a protective orb that whirled and pivoted outward and grew rapidly. Amitiel couldn't even make out where the cave troll was, as plumes of steam invaded the air with the water extinguishing the fire. Sound was muted for a moment in the secured barrier, although the vibrations of the explosion were still transcending through the ground at a tremendous magnitude. When Uriel and the stranger discovered that they were not turned to ash and rubble, they removed their arms as they watched Oropher's river, even in it's weakest state, doing the unbelievable to defend them. Even Valan calmed down when he realized that he was still breathing and standing. The steam was beginning to dissipate and Amitiel began to see trees, and the night sky once more. Resonations within the earth were no longer present, the threat was over. It was a good thing too, because the fire had completely incinerated whatever water was left of the orb. Amitiel felt as though he had swallowed a stone when he looked down at his feet. The riverbed was bone dry, not a single drop was left. Slowly walking up and out of the ditch, the Princeling observed the charred, unrecognizable corpse of the cave troll. The entirety of the clearing was scalded to onyx soot; once silky grass was now obliterated. However the river had done precisely what the Princeling had pleaded. All the trees that surrounded the expanse were untouched, and soaked by the river so that the fire wouldn't spread to the rest of the Greenwood. Looking up to the starry night, ash began to fall as snow. It was the most told sign of battle.

Uriel didn't speak as he and Amitiel gazed at each other. In one moment, everything changed as Uriel was trying to keep his composure. He could see why Amitiel had to do what he did, for if he hadn't acted immediately...this clearing would have resembled the fortress. The purity of this shock trembled within Uriel as he had to sit down for just a moment with his knees gathered in his arms. Amitiel wanted to comfort his friend, but he knew not how. There was no way of sugarcoating the severity of this situation. This was the first time his friend had ever seen battle or even an orc for that matter, whereas Amitiel had done this twice before already. It no longer impacted his psyche, because once you've seen your mother murdered, as far as he was concerned he had seen everything.

Interrupting Amitiel's thoughts were the stranger's boots creeping towards him, coming back from recollecting her throwing knives from the corpses. He had stunned her with the river incantation, and he knew it.

"You saw them split, right?" She enquired, still concealed by her hood, but there was a shudder in her voice, "One pack went South, towards Dol Guldor and the other went West." She swallowed and took a deep breath, the shudder was gone and again she was hopelessly fearless. "I'll take the ones South, then I will head back West. I think it's best if the two of you go home. This is not playing soldier. You'll both be killed by first light if you continue." Amitiel was irritated once more by this mystery woman,

"Who do you think you are? I've had decades of training and studying strategy." She put her hands on her hips,

"Don't we all? What you lack is experience and restraint. If it weren't for me, your friend would've been EATEN." Uriel's eyes were blank, he was speechless. She continued, "And whatever motive you have to settle your score with Shazog, I think it best for you to abandon it. Raw revenge won't get you far in a fight-"

"You know nothing." Amitiel grumbled. She exhaled as she turned on her foot and began walking South, calling from behind her shoulder she said,

"Like I said, go home if you know what's best for you." Like that, she disappeared into the thicket as quickly as a fawn. There were so many questions, Amitiel still had about her. The only thing he knew for sure...she was an elleth. It was the way she carried herself, and the way she spoke...mostly it was the way she fought. No mortal could fight like that, having such grace and fluidity that took centuries to master. But she was still young with that rebelliousness in her. He hoped she would be ok; he wished he had taken the opportunity to say thank you before she left. But somehow...he knew he would see that knife dancer again.

Looking back at Uriel, Amitiel saw that tears from his bruised eyes were falling silently down his cheeks. Striding to his side, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder,

"Uriel, you need to go home. Your duties lie with your family, your future. You won't become a Captain of the Guard out here, you could die...I couldn't live with myself if that happened." His friend took a deep breath as he hastily wiped his face with his sleeve. Standing up, he faced the Princeling,

"That's where you are wrong. My duty is to see that you come home safely, whatever that means. I refuse to go back."

"That's noble and selfless of you, mellon, but I have no guarantee of what will happen, where we may go, or how long that could be." Amitiel explained. Uriel shrugged his soldiers,

"Then I guess that means we are going on an adventure."

"A dangerous one," Amitiel corrected solemnly, "one that I believe will take us far from home." Crossing his legs, Amitiel sat down next to Uriel as they remained in companionable silence. The sun was just coming up, the long night was over...with surely longer nights to come.

(BACK TO LEGOLAS)

*Only moments before*

Finally they were in the tranquil Greenwood. Gimli was half asleep as he bobbed up and down on the tireless Arod, behind the equally if not more tireless elf. Legolas didn't bother with the winding, infamous path that eventually led to the fortress. This timber was recognizable by every tree and root, which made for a far superior shortcut. Being back in this wood was in every sense strange to the elf. It felt like home and at the same time he knew it would never be the same without his beloved Celdanine. 13 months away...he was anxious to know whether anything could be even just slightly normal again.

All of a sudden with no warning, a bastardly explosion penetrated the air as much as thundered along the ground. Arod startled as he neighed an outcry of distress.

"Easy," Legolas although just as surprised remained calm as he tried to control the animal. The detonation scared Arod so badly that he over extended his gallop and as a result tripped the tip of his hoof against an upturned, exposed root. The poor horse bleated in terrified discomfort as the animal flipped over all together, throwing Legolas and Gimli over the saddle and neck. They slammed into the rumbling earth, which at this point finally awoke the dwarf,

"What in the world of mead and ale-" Gimli shouted in outrage as he clutched the back of his head to stop the throbbing.

"Are you ok?" Legolas mustered as he got on his hands and knees, clenching the left side of his ribcage. Elf or not, being thrown from a moving animal was a painful experience.

"You forgot to mention that your people like to practice with bombs late in the night and early in the damned morning, laddy! Not only that, but that beast of yours wants to kill me in my sleep!"

"Arod!" Legolas exclaimed. Springing up, he ran over to the poor stallion. Arod stood, but was suspending his front foot, where his hoof snagged on the root. Taking the leg, Legolas rubbed his hands down it, feeling the muscles, tendons and bone. All felt fine until he reached the ankle; the slightest touch made Arod whinny in pained displeasure.

"Nothing feels broken, but he definitely sprained his ankle. Looks like it's walking from here." Legolas explained; Gimli began on his usually tangent of how unpredictable horses were, but Legolas couldn't help but drown it out with his thoughts.

That explosion...he couldn't help but feel an intense stomach churn when thinking if Amitiel had been anywhere near it. His memory was whirl winded back to Helm's Deep, when Uruk-Hai had broken through the outer wall. The noise, and vibrations were identical...it must've been a spike bomb. Such a weapon would never have been forged in his father's kingdom. Gimli had stopped talking when seeing Legolas deep in thought once more, obviously about the youngling.

"You don't think-" He began.

"I haven't a clue," Legolas interjected, not wanted Gimli to finish that thought out loud, "but I'm not waiting to find out." Removing his longbow over his shoulder, he offered it to Gimli. "Take this, it has my father's crest on it. Show it to anyone you can. I need you to follow the path, lead Arod to the fortress, and explain to anyone who will listen what has happened. Say I'm your friend." Gimli was flabbergasted as he clumsily took it,

"You can't be serious! They'll kill me before they see the whites of my eyes!"

"I knew you'd understand," Legolas spoke as he rapidly took off sprinting toward the sound of the explosion. "Oh! Don't eat the blue mushrooms!" He called over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll probably end up finding you before others!"

Gimli sighed, feeling silly holding an Elven longbow that was well over three feet taller than him. He glanced at Arod, who nudged his arm.

"You just had to get spooked, didn't you?" He asked; Arod snorted almost in a comedic way at Gimli's misfortune. "Alright," he grasped the reins, "let's do this. Let's go and have a chat to dear, old King Thrandyboy."

Legolas ripped through the forest, his legs pounding out the demanding sprint. Remembering in long times pass, that before he joined the Fellowship, before he so much was a Captain of the Guard, he used to firstly be a scout. A foot scout to be more clear. Instead of taking a horse or an elk, he would dash through the Greenwood to patrol the surrounding area. Not only that, but he too acted as a messenger. He would run and deliver reports all day long. Although he didn't appreciate it in his younger centuries, Legolas was immensely grateful for that training now. It's this type of grueling practice that could save his son. All he hoped for...he wanted his son soundly asleep in his bed right now. Full from the feast and drunk from the wine...he wanted Amitiel to be safe. His impending feeling of dread however...told him an entirely different story. I'm coming for you. Hang on. We're under the same sky...always.

(BACK TO THRANDUIL)

*Only moments before*

"I'm going to make that elfling wish he was never begotten when I get through with him. How dare he just run off like this?!" Thranduil growled as he continued his infuriated pace.

"I'd be happy to knock him around some." Elladan offered gleefully as he threw his closed fist into the palm of his other hand.

"I think some brawling would give him a much needed lesson." Elrohir chimed in as he popped his knuckles.

"You ellons are always the same," Galadriel mused from her chair, tongue-in-cheek, "always thinking violence is the answer."

"It's not?" Elladan asked.

"It's not like Uriel to run off either," Urytheyl spoke, "with the war over, our foolish elflings must think that they are untouchable. But that is far from the case."

To almost prove Uriel's father's point, the explosion shook the entirety of the fortress. Chandeliers swung unnaturally from the ceilings, books tumbled to the ground, and everyone's face in the imperial study had that look of immediately planning the next move. Thranduil's eyes darted as he strutted out on his balcony where he saw a mushroom shaped cloud raid the night sky, a shiver ran cold through him. Urytheyl followed him closely as he too saw it,

"Orders, my lord?" Although it was a question, Thranduil heard the begging request for action, and he was more than happy to oblige.

"Get a company ready of one hundred, as we do not yet know what is out there. Every other Captain of the Guard is to stay here protecting the fortress, whether woodland or high elf, I don't care. We ride within the hour; the Lady Galadriel is to act in my stead while I'm away." Thranduil faced the Lady of Light, "That is of course only if she agrees." Galadriel stood and offered a curtsy,

"I'd be happy to, mellon." Soon she ended the formality as she strode over to the distressed Elvenking and wrapped her arms around him, "Be careful out there." Thranduil unreservedly returned the hug, beyond grateful that she was willing to help when he had spoken some truly awful things to her. But Galadriel knew he was still too proud and manic to apologize quite yet, but she forgave him nonetheless.

"I'm going too, I've been cooped up in Imladris for too long." Elladan demanded.

"Besides, that elfling needs a good smack in the jaw to set him straight." Elrohir added.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, not too pleased that one, much less both wild twins decided to come. But both were well seasoned in battle and had been taught by their father, Lord Elrond, himself in healing, so he agreed. He glanced at the mushroom cloud once more, he thought of the young elfling that may have been right in the core of it all. You're too young for this. I won't stop until you are home where you belong.

(BACK TO AMITIEL)

"What are you doing?" Uriel had to ask while mounting his own white-tailed red elk, Laro, that he had whistled from the woods. He and Valan almost always got along, despite quarrels every now and again which involved rutting antlers. Amitiel stood by the once campfire that was slightly alive with hot cinders; Numen was in his hand as he observed the dainty blade. Looking down, he saw the ends of his hair singed. But he would be doing far more than a trim.

"Whether or not it's going to be an adventure, I'm still in exile, Uriel."

In days long pass when fathers who were kings weren't as close to their sons, and they were callously banished from kingdoms, it was traditional to cut the majority of the hair. Although Amitiel wasn't callously banished, leaving his homeland like this was abandoning his people. A crime so severe that would call for the cutting of the hair. Amitiel remembered watching Legolas, before he left for Imladris. He had hair like Thranduil's, it went all the back to his lower back. Legolas had cut up to a foot of it, so that it wouldn't interfere with battle. This made sense to Amitiel, because in just the past 2 days, his hair had hindered much. If it hadn't been for it, Amitiel wouldn't have been cut by a morgul shaft, Shazog wouldn't have smelled lavender from him up in the spruce, and Shazog wouldn't have pulled him up to his knees by it. Quite frankly, it was time for it to mostly go.

Pulling all his hair back to the crown of his head, he took the knife as he began slicing back and forth. Uriel watched sadly. Although it was just hair and it would grow back, when an elf did such a drastic thing as this, it told of the magnitude of turmoil within them. In one final stroke, the hair was severed completely. Amitiel looked at the body of long platinum locks in his hand and felt his scalp. The style just went a little ways above his neck; he felt that he could move his head freely as no weight was holding him down. To consummate this ritual, Amitiel dropped the hair over the hot, red cinders. It burned fast in a spasm of blue fire, and then quickly turned back to cinders once more. Now Yrren really won't be able to braid it, Amitiel thought to himself. Taking a deep breath before facing Uriel, he turned and began walking across the ashy clearing towards the elk. Uriel watched him do so. The hair was cut like a man's; in fact it covered his pointed ears, making him look mortal were it not for the eyes and Greenwood armor. Amitiel almost had a different baring. He resembled a phoenix, born of the fire and ash around him. Mounting Valan, Uriel looked at him, the exiled Princeling,

"So...we head West? We follow the company that Shazog lead." He asked, as Amitiel nodded,

"This is only the beginning." He squeezed Valan's sides with his inner knees as he began trotting in that general direction. Uriel and Laro followed closely,

"I was worried you were going to say something like that."

**Love it? Hate it? Who's your fav LOTR character? What do you think of Amitiel in general? Please please please please review! It'll take 2.5 seconds max! Thanks y'all!