Udûn strode into the ironworks cavern, Erashnâk chasing at his heels.  The two were inspecting the ancient fortifications of the stronghold and noting areas that needed attention.  The dark lord motioned toward the vats of boiling and bubbling metal, and the bone-weary humans laboring at the forges.

          “Get all the slaves working on these reinforcements.  All of them, do you hear, even the females and brats below.”  Udûn whirled around to face the uruk-hai.  “The dragon will return.  We must be prepared.”

          “Yes, lord,” the captain answered as he struggled to keep pace with his master.

          “What of the army approaching from the Ered Mithrin?”

          “They are nearing the valley where we fought the dragon,” Erashnâk replied.  “They will see your warning as they enter the gorge.”

          Udûn laughed cruelly.  “Yes.  That dangling Elf should dampen their spirits and give them cause to re-think their purpose.”  He turned back to the uruk warrior, his musings set aside.  “Hurry.  I want these shields in place before nightfall and the metal plating along the entranceways.  Get those slaves moving.”

          “At once, my lord.”

          As Erashnâk hastened to do his lord’s bidding, the demon moved on into the foundry, inspecting the work being done there and nodding his approval.  What he did not observe was the subtle exchange of words between the two slaves working at the nearby forges.  The taller and brawnier of the two men had overheard much of the demon’s conversation with the foul uruk-hai and now passed this news on to the others in his work crew in hurried whispers.  They must remain alert.  An army was near; perhaps their salvation was close at hand.          

////////////////////////////////////// 

          Elladan silently watched as the rider approached.   Knowing it was his younger brother and eager to hear what Elrohir had learned from the scouts sent ahead days earlier, he narrowed his eyes against the brightening sunlight and patiently waited for his twin’s arrival.  As he calmly sat atop his horse, he took note of Lomyr riding up from the lines behind to join him.  The dark ranger was an old friend and had ridden with the Sons of Elrond in many a skirmish, but none quite as unusual as this expedition.  Never before had any of them joined ranks with a dragon in common purpose.

          As they made their way along the trails north of the Ettenmoors yesterday, the warriors had watched in fear and awe as the dragon passed over the mountain peaks and circled above them; they had also seen one Legolas Greenleaf riding upon the monster’s broad back.   Even now, Elladan was not entirely sure what to make of that incredible vision.

          What in the name of the Valar was Legolas doing riding that dragon? he wondered, but he had no more time to indulge in idle reflections as Elrohir skidded to a jouncing stop at his side.  The horse was wild-eyed and prancing, but finally settled enough so that his brother could bring him around to stand beside the others at the forefront of the lines.

          “Gundabad has been sighted upon the horizon,” he reported.  “But it seems Estel has started this war without us,” Elrohir grinned.

          “How so?” asked the elder twin.

          “The scouts say the valley below the mountain is scorched and yrch lay in burning piles.  It can only be the work of the dragon.  Estel and the Mirkwood forces are camped just south of the stronghold.  I have sent runners to the camp to let him know we approach.”

          “Good.  What do they say about the dragon?” asked Elladan.

          Elrohir laughed.  “Apparently all is as Mithrandir wrote to Ada in his letter seeking our aid.  The dragon appears to be aiding them with the assault upon the mountain.”  He nodded, anticipating Elladan’s next question.  “And, yes, it seems our friend the prince has somehow coaxed this beast into allowing him to ride atop it.”

          “Amazing,” the elder twin mused.  Then his thoughts turned to more pertinent issues.  “What of the orc activity within the mountain?”

          “They took quite a beating from the dragon’s attack, as the razed valley will attest; however, we’ll still have plenty to deal with, as well as the dark lord.  No one knows for sure how many farmers and settlers have been enslaved within.  I only hope we can get them out without too many casualties.”  Elrohir turned to the ranger.  “Do you have any estimate of the numbers missing?”

          The older warrior shook his head sadly.  “Not really.  I’d guess between four and five hundred men, women and children.”  He waved his arm to encompass the northern plains.  “All the villages north of the Ettenmoors were raided.”

          Lomyr stretched within his saddle and turned back to face the Elven warriors.  “The rangers are rested and prepared to ride hard if need be, Elladan,” said Lomyr.  “If we don’t stop during the night, we should be able to join up with Strider by dawn tomorrow.”

          Elladan nodded slightly.  “Very well, Lomyr.  Let us make haste.  I am very much interested in learning what our younger brother and Legolas have been up to this time.”

          Lomyr turned his horse about.  “I’ll pass the word along.”

          As the ranger rode away, Elladan glanced at his brother.  “Well, what are we waiting for?  Do you want Estel to claim all the glory?”

          With a widening grin, the younger twin raised his arm and signaled the Elven army to action.  The riders moved forward as one and began the last leg of their journey to Gundabad.  

////////////////////////////////// 

          Gandalf sat down beside the recovering prince and placed a hand upon the Elf’s forearm.  “It is good to see you alive and well my dear Legolas,” he smiled fondly.  “You gave us all quite a start, seeing you hanging there upon the cliff side.”

          Legolas returned a rueful smile as he rose up to a seated position.  “Aye, Mithrandir,” he murmured.  “It was definitely not by choice.”

          The Elf’s slight grin faded as he watched the dragon lift off and wing her way toward the mountain tops.  “Where is she going?”

          The wizard followed the prince’s gaze and replied.  “To consider what I have told her I should think.”

          “And what did you tell her?”

          Gandalf turned back to face Legolas.  “That she can defeat Udûn and be free of Shadow.”

          The woodland being lowered his eyes and clasped his elegant hands together in his lap.  “Her young are dead,” he murmured sadly.

          Gandalf looked away and nodded thoughtfully.  “Ah, I feared as much when first I saw you chained upon the mountain.”  He turned back to the Elf.  “The dragon does not know?”

          Legolas shook his head and his blond hair wavered about his shoulders.  “No.”  He gazed at the wizard with sorrowful, pained eyes.  “I cannot bear to tell her.”

          Gandalf stared intently at the prince.  “But you must.  I fear what might happen if she learns of this from any other.”  He reached out and gently squeezed the Elf’s shoulder.  “You must help to heal her and strengthen her for what she must do.”

          Legolas turned a confused frown upon the Istari.  “I do not understand, Mithrandir.”

          The wizard smiled warmly and slowly rose to his feet.  Looking down at the golden Elf, he said.  “You will, Legolas, for you are the light.”

          Gandalf muttered something to himself as he wandered away, leaving Legolas to brood over his cryptic remarks.   His parting words, however, only served to perplex the Elf anew, but before Legolas could question the Istari further, Strider approached and dropped down at his side.  The ranger was carrying a plate of food, a flagon and several cups, and a rolled bundle under his arm.  He handed the Elf the plate and began pouring out a mug of warm tea.

          “Are you up to some nourishment?  If so, the meat is fresh not dried,” Strider smiled.

          Legolas turned from the ranger to follow the wizard’s retreating back.  “I, wait, Gandalf,” he glanced at Strider as if for assistance to recall the grey pilgrim, but upon turning back found the maiar had already disappeared amid the rising tents.

          The tone of the Elf’s words gave Aragorn cause for concern.  “Legolas?  What is it?”

          “Nothing,” the Elf demurred.  “It was just something Gandalf said.”  He smiled at his friend and looked down at the plate of steaming venison.  “This smells wonderful.  I am hungry.”

          Strider knew the Elf was avoiding the question and adroitly attempting to steer the conversation away from his words with the wizard.  Knowing, too, that he would never draw anything out of Legolas that he did not wish to share, he decided to let the matter drop for now.  Instead he handed Legolas the bundle of clothing he had wedged under his arm.

          “You might want to rid yourself of that soiled and shredded tunic,” he smiled.  “I need to check your arrow wound anyway.”

          Legolas nodded as he set the plate of food upon the ground and unbuckled his belt, allowing the bloodied outer tunic to fall away from his body.  Strider helped pull the torn garment from his shoulders and slid the ripped and bloody inner shirt over his head.  As he did so, he could not help but notice the Elf’s back and how quickly the welts were healing.  The angry red streaks had faded to thin pink lines and appeared almost healed.

          “I should dearly like to know what compound is in that dragon’s spit that causes wounds to heal this swiftly,” he stated, giving Legolas a sidelong grin.  “I don’t even think my father has this kind of healing power.”

          The prince grimaced and hastily pulled on the clean shirt, covering his back and shoulders.  “You need not remind me,” he grumbled and glared intently at the ranger.  “And if you even so much as mention this to your brothers…”

          Strider threw his hands up in surrender, laughing merrily.  “You have my promise.  Not a word.”

          Legolas’ eyes narrowed as he studied the ranger, not quite sure that this incident would be so easily forgotten.  As Strider worked on his shoulder wound, Legolas continued in a whisper.  “I could always tell the twins about the time you disturbed that sleeping skunk…”

          The human leaned back on his heels, eyes wide and mouth agape.  “You wouldn’t!”

          Legolas grinned.  “Good. Then I think we understand each other.”

          Before Strider could reply, Tharel, accompanied by several Elven warriors from Imladris by the look of their attire, approached the pair.  Tharel nodded and gestured at the trio of Elves.  “Runners from the western troops.  They have news for you, Strider.”

          The ranger stood and then bowed formally to the Elves as they in turn greeted him.  “I bear greetings from the sons of Lord Elrond to their younger brother, Estel,” the scout began.  “The combined forces of Imladris and the northern rangers ride to Gundabad and will join with you at dawn.”

          Shrugging into the fresh tunic and refastening his belt, Legolas also stood and took up a position behind Aragorn.  He bowed to the Elven soldiers and they saluted him as well.

          “Prince Legolas,” the envoy acknowledged.  “I bring you greetings from Lord Elrond.  He wishes you to know that your strength and power are your allies, and your ability to commune with the dragon will determine the outcome of this battle.”

          Legolas stiffened at the startling portent and nodded his understanding to the warrior.  Strider glanced meaningfully at his friend and wondered if this message from his father was similar to what the Elf had been discussing with Gandalf.  And if so, just what was he supposed to do?  He slowly turned his attention back to the runners and gestured them toward the cook fires.

          “I thank you for your information.  Come.  Take your rest.  I would hear more news of my brothers,” he smiled as he led the Elves away.

          Legolas looked up toward the towering mountains and tried to spot the dragon’s roost, but could not see any evidence of the beast.  He knew what he must do, but first, he needed to replace his lost weapons.  Alas, his cherished long knives were gone, but perhaps he could find adequate replacements until they defeated the dark lord and he could search Gundabad for his own.  For he could feel the power growing within him, the tingling within the air, the anticipation of battle.  The days ahead would see an end to the rule of Udûn.