Metal clinked against wood and whispers grated upon silence. Those who dared to speak did it with reluctance. Those who breathed did it only out of necessity. The only sound freely permissible was that of the crackling fire, coupled with ring of whetstone upon blade.

Blood would be spilled tonight.

Eru, I prayed it would not be our own.

A shuffle came from my right. I hardly needed to glance over to know that Forven had joined me.

He crouched beside me, surveying the warriors from our perch in the rafters above it all. From overhead, we could see the entirety room—hear every whisper, the sound of metal and fire.

I cast Forven a sidelong glance. "You shouldn't be climbing up here with that wound still in your side." One gained for my sake. One that could have been avoided if I had already faced the threat that sought to take form as my own kin.

"And leave you to brood alone? I would be lax in my duties if I allowed something so foul to occur. Besides, I could hear you thinking," he said.

I offered a tight smile, head falling against the wood behind me. "Could you?"

His arm knocked against mine. "You worry, as you should. By dawn tomorrow you fear the forest will be tainted with things worse than the darkness that sickens it. That by the end of this battle, the smoke rising from this fortress will be as thick as the fires that will burn outside it."

"Morinaur said the forest would burn."

"He's a liar."

"We can't know that."

"I can. Because I know you, and you won't let it." Forven pushed my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. "And wherever you fight, I'll join you. And so will a hundred other warriors, just at your word. This kingdom will remain standing."

"Yes. It will." My knuckled rapped against the wood rhythmically. "It has to."

The sounds below were growing distant, smothered by the roaring of my thoughts.

"There's more," Forven said, "isn't there?"

"Something about Iaewneth. The things she said." That look in her eyes, halfway between terror and conviction.

Forven scoffed. "As if anything she speaks can be trusted."

"No, and that is where the issue lies. How can we know what to trust, and what to discard as lie?"

How can we know what to trust at all, if those among us have turned away toward the shadow? Elves who might have once defended these eaves now spread upon it like festering infection.

"One day your obstinance is going to lead you into a dangerous place."

"Perhaps. But it will only be because I followed you there."

I threw him a sidelong glance but couldn't find the heart to respond. Not tonight, when so many of the warriors around me may not see the sunrise. Hope could only be molded as a façade for long, and I would save it for those who needed to see it most.

Amid the rippling clatter, a low song rose to gain shape. The tune was familiar, words even more so. The melody had become something of creed of the warriors. At some point, it had become tradition to sing before the battle had chance to consume every waking and sleeping thought.

Its melody floated on the fringes of my hearing as my thoughts continued to spiral in never ending circles. A thousand possibilities—endless outcomes. There was no way to prepare for them all.

"Sidh, gwador," Forven said. "We have weathered storms far worse than the one that looms, and we will endure through many more to come."

Conviction embodied Forven's every word. The only hesitancy to be found was in the deepest coloring of his eye, where light was hard pressed to reach.

I straddled the wooden beam, clasping Forven's shoulder. "You speak as if you have gleaned the gift of foresight from Lord Elrond himself. Should I be concerned?"

Forven's hand fell upon my shoulder. "Nay, not foresight. Only trust."

I had always said that Forven would be better suited in a position far higher in the army's ranks—somewhere with more dominance than the position at my right allowed. He firmly refused to even breech the topic.

Somewhere within me, I knew that one day the forest would darken so hideously that he would have no choice but to assume responsibilities that pulled him further from my right hand. That would come in its due time. Today, enough of a threat reared its head.

Gradually, the song faded to a low hum. As their voices faded away, my gaze caught on a movement in one of the darkest reaches of the room. I could feel no threat upon the air—and none of the warriors had reacted to the new presence.

Still, the shadow unsettled me.

I let one leg fall over the beam's edge as one hand wandered to knock against Forven's shoulder.

He seemed to sense the tension that had come over me, leaning closer to my side and searching for where my gaze lie. "What do you see?"

"The corner," I said. "I don't recognize them."

Forven's eyes narrowed. I watched his face, lest his expression betray his thoughts sooner than his words do.

When a shadow entered his gaze, I knew my suspicions were correct.

"Because they're not a warrior—not yet at least."

Novices weren't to remain in the warrior halls before a battle. And this novice—ai, my own cynicism could have gone a millenia without seeing him again. "Earandur."

"Do we trust him?" Forven said.

Earandur claimed ignorance. But to his own sister's schemes?

"Not yet," I said. "Wait here." I stood, sliding along one beam to spring to the next.

Forven followed as if I hadn't said a word.

Duvainor's voice came echoing back in my mind. You will stumble. The forest will fall. Hope will die.

Forven muttered a curse as we came to a halt. "He shouldn't be in here, hên-gwarth."

"Earandur has done nothing to betray this kingdom yet. Don't let his kin taint his standing in your mind."

I leapt from the beam, landing soundlessly in front of Earandur. He didn't startle, though I shouldn't have been surprised. He had always struggled to maintain a close lookout in training, but even the most untried warriors learned early on that anyone might avoid the chaos of the ground for the clear path of above.

"Earandur," I said. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted awkwardly and for a moment I thought he might even kneel. "Caun-nin," he said. "I know my place is not here, but I needed to speak with you."

I leveled a nod at him. "Then speak."

In the short days since Iaewneth had been discovered, Earandur looked to have aged to match his years. There was a new posture to his shoulders—a stronger set to his jaw.

"I know that what she has done is unforgivable, and in no way do I believe she was right, but I beg of you to speak to her again."

"Why should we," Forven bit from clenched teeth, "when all she will speak of is destruction greater than what she has brought upon herself?"

Earandur stepped forward and a fire reflected brazenly in his eyes. "She may be traitor, but she is not without reason. I cannot leave my sister to ruin, no matter what path led her there."

I tried to interject, but Forven's tongue had always been quicker than mine. "Without reason? You beg for a life that—" he scoffed and tossed a look over his shoulder. "

"Sidh," I muttered. "here is not the place for this."

His gaze swiveled to mine, and the anger within it was roaring. "He begs for forgiveness of one whose has sought to bring death upon us all—here is a place as good any."

"Not forgiveness," Earandur said, familiar unsurety slithering back into his voice. "Only a second consideration."

"As if that's any better."

"Enough," I said, slipping into a dialect of Silvan that Forven would know, but Earandur assuredly would not. "He is not his sister—their shared blood does not carry treachery within it."

"You can't be sure of that—none of us can."

"Does that mean that I can be trusted no more than Duvainor himself? That I am no better than his twisted conspiracy?"

It was a cruel blow. In a more peaceful time, I would not have deigned to voice it.

"You know that is not what I mean." A long shadow fell over Forven's face, and the anger within him fell to a simmer. "Speak to him if you must. I will see to the preparations."

I knew he wouldn't go far. If he considered Earandur a threat, he would stay near enough to take action should the novice attack. The set of his shoulders clearly said that we would speak of this again later. Fine. Now I needed Earandur to speak.

"Speak, Earandur," I said, "and quickly. Though you may not be responsible for them, your sister's actions have come near to bringing ruin rapidly upon us."

"I know, caun-nin, and I wish that I could change that—which is why I've come to speak with you. I was there when my sister spoke to the King and..."

The pause he took was almost as loud as the drums of war my mind conjured into being.

"And?" I said.

It was a battle of wills between Earandur's nature, and a new one that begged to gain shape. Finally, determination flared and his face rose to face the light. "I know my sister. When we were young, we learned to spot each other's tricks. She has not told you everything she knows."

His words only confirmed the conspiracy that had been nagging at the back of my mind. "Has she told you?"

"No. We haven't spoken. Forgiving her—disregarding all the deaths she's caused—I can't find it within me to do so, sister or not."

"Do you think she can be persuaded to speak?"

Earandur's face flushed even more than it already had. "She's always been the stronger willed of us. Her passions are entirely of her own command. But... I would like to believe there is still some good in her."

Once, I might have believed that all this time, Earandur had been acting as a fool to maintain an air of secrecy as he wandered freely through our halls. Since Iawneth's discovery—I might almost believe that it had taken tragedy to ignite a righteous anger inside him.

"I will speak to her," I said.

The King was not alone in the tricks he knew to play.

_________________________________________________

Elros was hesitant to allow me into the dungeons without one of my ever vigilant followers, but with a quiet word and grave look, I slipped past him.

Time spent in the dungeons had dulled the deepness of black upon her hair, and hints of lighter colors could be seen through the fading tint. It had been a disguise well suited to the role she aimed to play. I had been foolish not to see through it.

We all had. And how many would die because of it?

I stood in front of Iaewneth's cell. The darkness inside was heavy, but her form was clear enough to my eyes. Hunched over, back turned, and posture as rigid as a spider's dying scream.

Time was paralyzed, refusing

"Have you come to gawk at me?" Iaewneth said. "Am I to be another prize of your endless war, buried beneath root and stone?"

There. The first crack in her exterior had emerged.

I grabbed the key from my built. Elros may have missed my taking of it—or maybe he had decided it wasn't worth the dissidence that questioning me on it would cause. "You're coming with me," I said, key scraping against metal as the cell door swung open.

Enough weapons covered my person that should Iaewneth make any menacing move, she would be easily incapacitated. Apparently, she decided it wasn't worth the effort, and, with chains around her wrists, slouched out of her cell.

"Where are we going? Am I to face my doom?"

From her tone, I thought she might prefer death to be her destination.

"No," I said. The halls were blessedly empty. Though the palace was on high alert, the heart of it need not be protected over its fringes.

We wandered between wood and stone, nearer to the warrior's halls. Before entering, I pulled my hood up and gave Iaewneth a warning word to remain silent. Most warriors would have taken to the common room, but we didn't need to face the confusion that an undue encounter would cause. Finally, we reached the doors that I had been directing us towards.

I stopped and faced Iaewneth. "You had the freedom to wander these halls at your leisure for days, so thick was your deception."

Her eyes glinted in the dim fire light.

"Here is one scene I know you never saw."

The doors moaned as they swung open, and I pushed Iaewneth between them, following behind her. This balcony overlooked the warriors and was hardly meant my intentions. Today it had to be. We wouldn't be seen up here unless someone new to look for us. Forven might, but he seemed deep enough in his own thoughts and planning not to—or he might climb into the rafters to put Iaewneth back in her cell himself.

He and I had not parted on good terms. I had spoken harshly, and he in kind. Come the time of battle, we would fall back into our expected roles—we would have to. I planned to speak to him before then.

My warriors were positioned much the same as when I left them. A false joy exchanged between them, they sat as near to the fire as they could bear with the threats that lay against the forest pressing heavily upon the air.

"These warriors will leave the halls tonight with no assurance—some with no hope—of ever setting foot back in them," I said.

Her gaze glinted against the dim light. "They made a choice, didn't they?"

"Aye. They did."

"Then why resent that which they chose for themselves?"

My hands itched to shake sense into her, but instead gripped the banister til it might have cracked. "You may as well ask me why I do not begrudge them the air they breathe."

There was a careful set to the way she would not let her eyes meet mine.

I pointed below us. "Every one of these warriors was aware of what they would face should they choose to fight for this kingdom. Not one was forced to, and every weapon taken up is under their own will."

Iaewneth nearly spat, "Then again I ask, why be so furious that they march into the war they sought for themselves?"

I stepped close to her. Near enough that I could see the chill that ran through her. "Because I tell you this now, not one of these warriors ever suspected they'd be betrayed by their own. Least of all your own brother."

Anger broiled in my veins. I gestured below us. Despite my warnings, Earandur had remained in the halls. His intentions were obvious to all that saw him.

All but Iaewneth.

"Earandur waits in the room below us. Did you know he has not even attempted his warrior trials? That when he came here, we all doubted his resilience—assumed he would never progress past the first stage of his training. But he has withstood it. His competency may lack in some things—some things he may never learn. But I believe his reason for coming here is what keeps him going. Do you know what it is?"

Another careful avoidance kept the fury inside me from colliding with her painful indifference.

"That he fights for you. For your family. That the Shadow came too close for him to sit idly by, and conscience would not let him sit by and watch it grow—the Shadow which you now aid."

"Earandur is naive. If you cannot admit that then you do not know him as you think. Just like the rest of you, he does not see the futility in this fight."

"Futility?" I said. "When has fighting for the good of this world ever been futile?"

"Since this guise of goodness has kept these people from seeing light for far too long. Duvainor is not the dark lord you think him to be. Can you be so arrogant as to think that no one will see the evil you bring upon this forest?"

Do you truly believe so much of this kingdom could be so deceived?"

A moment of silence fell between us. This had gone on long enough.

I pointed. "Below us, in the right corner of the room. That is Bronwe. He is one of the eldest and most experienced in the ranks of us. The moment the shadow crept upon this forest, he brought up his sword to fend it back and has never let it fall."

A laugh brought my attention to beside the fire. "And there—that's Andaer. A company of warriors saved him from a spider's nest that he had wandered into as a child. He soon came with a want to fight with them—and he has done far more than prove his worth."

"I don't question these warrior's skill."

"But you question their character."

"I question nothing but that which I know—that ruin will be brought down upon them all, if the king's reign is allowed to continue."

"Thousands have pledged their allegiance to that very king—and that king has done more than you know to protect them. These warriors know what they face, and they will fight because they have seen far too much evil for them not too."

"You are ignorant to your kingdom. You know nothing that the people outside these walls face.

"I know enough," I said. "Forven—my lieutenant who your master is so intent upon bringing down with me and this kingdom—his settlement was raided by a band of orch before he had seen his first century. His family was killed before him as his home burnt down around him. We don't know how many days he spent alone before someone found him, but it was long enough for fury to take to his blood."

Iaewneth's hair fell as a veil over her face. Something made her hands tremble.

"The next week he was a ward of the crown, and since I met him, I have not seen a day that the past has not haunted his eyes."

"We all have demons," she said, but surety was gone.

"Some of us choose to fight against them. Not for them. Come this way."

I pulled her with me, back down the hall. This area always had guards on duty, but they would have to trust me in this."

We turned a corner and I kept a tight hand on Iaewneth.

The guards stiffened as we approached, and I waved a hand before they could protest. "Edro I fen," I commanded.

A wary look, jangling of keys, and our path was opened to us. Warmth fell on my face as I walked forward motioning for the guards to close the doors behind us.

Once they closed, I faced the room. Candles filled thin tables around the room. They offered the only light in the room, casting a dim glow and creating distant shadows.

"Do you know what this room is?" I said.

"I Sam en Aglar," she said. "A candle lit for every warrior in service to the crown."

I nodded, continuing into the room. "And a candle left unlit for every one of them that falls to the shadow."

This was a room I often came to, as a reminder of the number of warriors who depended upon my resilience. When initiated into a company, warriors would make their own candle and place it in this room, a symbol of the light that they brought into the forest with them. And when they fell—

—their candle would be put out and left amid the others. Most cases, single candles would be missing amid a grouping. Others, long spread sections had lost their light, lucky to have even one standing amid it.

"Up there," I said, "on the windowsill, is the candle that was my naneth's. Many feared my adar's grief would cause his own to go out."

Iaewneth was silent.

"Does that surprise you?" I said. "I imagine Duvainor told you the same story he told me. That the queen's blood sits upon the king's blade—that that is his proof of why the king must fall."

"Do you believe he loved her?"

I leveled a glare upon her. "She was my mother. I have no doubt in my mind of it, and you should not dare to suggest otherwise."

The candles crackled in the stiff air.

"I wonder how many will be unlit after tonight," I said. "My warriors are skilled, but they are not impervious to death."

My knuckles knocked against empty spaces on the tables.

"I especially wonder about Earandur. He has never faced a battle as vast as this."

"But he is a novice. He will not be fighting on the front."

"Won't he?" I spun on my heel to face her. "It seems doubtful that he will be persuaded from it. I imagine he seeks to make reparations for the sins of his sister."

"You cannot let him."

"And I don't mean to—but no matter what I say, he will do what he feels right. Just as you have."

It was cruel what I did now, but if Earandur was right, this was necessary.

"Everyone fights for what they believe in, don't they? I aim to keep the darkness at bay. Duvainor seeks the king's death. He seeks to bring this forest down around us. Succumbing to the Shadow would bring power, I cannot deny it. The cost, though, is yet to be seen. The risk has always been too great for me to fathom."

The dawning of comprehension was visible in Iaewneth's eyes as they roamed over the candles. Of her own accord, she wandered deeper between the candles.

"Duvainor promised us that within destruction we would find hope. That the innocent would be spared. I never..." she trailed away, and I did not press her. Her thoughts were not hard to perceive.

Who did Duvainor consider innocent? And what if her brother did not meet his standards?

I had done all I could.

"Now you know what you have brought upon this kingdom," I said. "When this is over, consider if you feel as sure of your choices."

The candles whispered. My heart beat slowly. Her back remained turned to me.

Gentle and hesitant, broken and fragile, Iaewneth spoke. "The tunnels."

The ran beneath the stronghold. We rarely ventured there. The darkness within was not something that we sought. Few even knew of their existence.

I stepped closer. "What of them?"

"You know I was sent as a spy. To find weaknesses—those none would expect."

My heart beat faster.

The tunnels came to my attention. I told Duvainor of them."

"Did you open them?" I said.

They had to be opened from the inside. They were meant as an escape, should the need ever arise.

Movements halted, Iaewneth turned. Finally, her eyes met mine and her steely glare gave way to the nearest look she could ever have to innocence.

"Yes," she said. "They come within this night."

The floor might as well have dropped from within me. If that were so, they had already taken to the tunnels. Our only hope was to stop them before they breached the heart of the stronghold.

Earandur was right. And Mirkwood may yet burn for his sister's insolence.

There was no longer time for civility. I grabbed Iaewneth by the arm and pulled her out of the room. She had no place among its radiance.

The guards jolted to awareness. I shoved Iaewneth between them. "Bring her back to the dungeons," I said, "and prepare yourselves. Blood may yet be spilled within the hour."

It was all I could do to keep myself from running down the hall. As long as I could be seen, composure needed to be kept.

"Wait." Iaewneth's voice kept me from continuing.

I turned back. "Something else you failed to mention?"

Her breath was heavy as she remained between the guard, their weapons crossed in front of her. "Let me fight," she said. "Nothing is as I thought. I cannot watch these people die."

"This is your doing," I said. "Every death this night will have your hand upon it."

"No. No—I can help. I have heard Duvainor's plans—know what he aims to do. I beg you, let me fight."

Traitors could not be trusted. Her lies were innumerable—the consequences of them unknown.

But the darkness had left her eyes. I might have even seen a spark of rebellion in them.

I came closer to her, letting every step echo between the walls. "You have betrayed this kingdom. Thrown my warriors into turmoil. Tried to kill my family. If you think you can do so again and live, you will quickly find how mistaken you are."

I nodded to the guards. Admonition in their movement but trust in their action, they released her.

She opened her mouth—and stopped as I shook my head.

"Do not thank me," I said. "Prepare yourself. When the sun rises, it will find a changed people beneath it."

My fists clenched as I left her in the hall. I needed to find the king. Tonight, many would lose their innocence.

Many more would remember why they chose to forfeit it.

sidh, gwador : peace, (sworn) brother

hên-gwarth : traitorous child

Edro I fen : open the doors

I Sam en Aglar : the Room of Lights

A big thank you to all of you who have stuck with this story through it's long hiatus. I hope to update more frequently, but can't make any promises. Just know I am trying my hardest to keep this story alive. I'm also very nervous to actually be posting again...

Good? Terrible? Much worse than you remember? Would love to hear what you thought!