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It was a dark and windy night, quickly growing darker. A thin crescent moon escaped the tendrils of cloud cover every once in a while, casting a wane glow over the ridged hilltops. A mountain stood silhouetted against the midnight sky, a jagged and forlorn peak known to most as Mount Gundabad. It was in the shadow of this mountain that small party of elves had made camp for the night.

Cloak drawn tightly about her shoulders and hood up, Anthelísse sat facing the embers of a low campfire. She knew her guards were standing alert in the darkness nearby. Still, this place had all her senses on edge. There was something about these lands, a subtle feeling that bespoke of evil. Or perhaps that was her worry for Thranduil speaking. Either way, Anthelísse knew she would find no peace in reverie tonight.

A rustle came from the edge of the firelight. Turning over on her sleeping pallet, Aislinn opened her indigo eyes. The loyal handmaiden had insisted on accompanying Anthelísse even all the way to Lake Evendim.

"Can you not rest, Anthelísse?" She asked, sitting up and shifting closer toward the fire. The shadows from the flames played across her face and cast dark hollows beneath her cheeks.

Anthelísse shook her head, drawing her cloak tighter against the chill of the November night air. "I will take no ease in this place. Were it not for the missive from the army, I could never believe that this road is the safest path open to us."

Scooting up beside the queen, Aislinn followed Anthelísse's gaze into the glowing embers. "This is the fastest road though, is it not? All the better for us to reach the king's side as soon as possible."

"Yes..." Anthelísse let out a long breath and touched her forehead to her knees. "Oh Aislinn, it pains me beyond bearing to know that Thranduil is suffering so far away. If I could run the rest of the way and be there by tomorrow's eve I would do it!" She turned her head to smile ruefully at her oldest friend and most faithful servant. "And I am missing Legolas."

Aislinn reached out to wrap an arm around Anthelísse's shoulders. The warmth of the two elf women helped to keep the chill of night at bay somewhat.

"I will wager every piece of jewelry I own that Legolas is even now being spoiled by Galion and Daeris with too many sweets from the kitchens. And I imagine he is playing with his dogs, and begging Daerchon for just one more story before bed."

Anthelísse managed a wane smile. She was not the carefree maiden Aislinn had accompanied from Nargothrond all those years ago. There was less of Finduilas's easy humour in her bearing and more of Gil-Galad's refined poise. Anthelísse was a now fully ripened into her full potential as a queen, as a wife and as a mother, Aislinn realized. The realization made her wonder just how much she herself had changed over the centuries. Unlike mortals, the Eldar wore their ages in their hearts rather than on their faces.

The tone of the crickets chirping changed suddenly, and Aislinn saw one of their guards stiffen. The elf reached for his knives...but never made it; the black dart in his neck prevented any such heroics. Another guard managed to cry out before being jumped by two dark figures from the brush.

"Yrch!" (Orcs!)

From all sides, orcs poured into the campsite. Their horrid squeals and growls shattered the night. It was too chaotic to be sure, but it looked like they outnumbered the elves by four to one at least.

"Lady Anthelísse, flee!" One of the guards cried just as he was stabbed from behind. The orc struck again and hooted with malicious glee as the elf crumpled forward onto the cold ground.

Hearts hammering in their ears, Anthelísse and Aislinn needed no further prompting. Leaving everything where it lay, they dashed away from the campfire to the spot where they had left their horses. The shrieking of orcs was all around, and they half expected to be attacked at any moment. The real horror awaited at the end of the trail though; the orcs had slaughtered the horses, leaving the poor animals to die slowly in the darkness.

"We must hide!" Aislinn cried, casting about in desperation for any thick patch of nature. Even the nocturnal orcs could not hope to find elves concealed in the wild.

They never got the chance though. Anthelísse turned to lead the way into a thicket...and was pulled up short by a gnarled hand grasping at the back of her long golden hair. Aislinn screamed as an orc burst out of the thicket in front of them, brandishing a notched sword wet with blood...

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Many hundreds of leagues away, Thranduil lay lost in a drugged sleep, powerful doses of Siroth's herbs keeping him from awaking. His dreams were strange and winding, but one in particular ensnared his pain-wracked mind.

He was alone, wandering in some dark and endless place. Over and over he called out, but never was there an answer. Thranduil knew he ought to be somewhere, that someone needed him. No matter how he tried though, he could not free himself from this maze without walls.

"Thranduil..."

Now Thranduil could hear a voice, Anthelísse's voice. He couldn't be sure though; she sounded muffled and terribly far away. And so he wandered in his waking nightmare, calling out over and over for his beloved whom he could not find.

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Anthelísse was running, running in the dark with the enemy hard on her heels. She could hear their horrible cackles all around, echoing off the stone walls and growing in volume. Were the orcs upon her, about to seize her again at any moment? Surely they could smell the terror rolling off her flesh in panicked waves.

The orcs had brought herself and Aislinn back to their lair inside Mount Gundabad, crudely bound with coarse rope. They hadn't killed the two elf women, but had abused them at every turn. Anthelísse's arms and shoulders ached with unnumbered bloody scratches they'd received from filthy orcish talons. That hadn't been the worst of it though. The orcs had leered at Anthelísse and Aislinn the whole way to the mountain, hissing promises of cruel torment that made their very souls shudder.

When Anthelísse had gotten the very first opportunity to escape, she had taken it. Their captors had gotten careless for a split second, leaving an arm's length of distance between themselves and their new playthings. Anthelísse had writhed her slim hands free of the rope, setting both herself and Aislinn free in an instant. The two of them had bolted away down the dark tunnels of the mountain, the enraged orcs close behind.

That had been ages ago it seemed. Anthelísse and Aislinn had gotten separated in the gloom, and Anthelísse had no way of knowing whether the handmaiden was still alive or dead. All she knew was that she was running out of strength, and by all measures seemed only to be getting more lost within the depths of Gundabad.

Then, a glimpse of light. Nearly sobbing with relief, Anthelísse dashed along the rocky ledge she found herself on. A pale shaft of light illuminated the dark ahead; an opening in the mountainside. To her right opened a gaping chasm of such pure shadow as to swallow even that feeble ray of light. If she could just reach the far side, Anthelísse promised herself that she would find some way to reach that opening to freedom.

She had not counted on the tunnel that opened behind the light though. The ray of hope Anthelísse raced toward was suddenly broken by a hoard of orcs barreling out toward her. Their red eyes gleamed evilly, promising her worst imaginable fears. Now she was trapped, with orcs both ahead and behind. There was no escape.

Or was there? The darkness of that great chasm yawned before Anthelísse, a maw of earth offering to swallow her whole. She did not want to die; she had so much to live for in Thranduil and Legolas. Their faces came to her then, there alone in the dark. She saw Thranduil as she had that first day in Emyn Duir when he had stood framed by morning sunlight as he waited for her. She saw Legolas smiling and laughing as he reached out his little arms for one more hug. Then she saw the orcs reaching for her...and closed her eyes.

One step...another...a leap...and she was free falling. Her hair and cloak fluttering behind her like the tail of a falling star, Anthelísse streaked down through the darkness and was gone. The light of the last elf-queen of Arda passed from the world, leaving in its wake a void the likes of which shall be lamented even unto the ending of all things.

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