Gerithor stretched as he awoke from sleep. It was the first time in what felt like ages that he had gotten a good night's rest. It seemed that whenever he stayed at Rivendell (which was rare), he slept well. Perhaps it was the peaceful atmosphere of the place... Or maybe elven magic kept evil things of all sorts away from the valley, including nightmares. Regardless the reason, Gerithor was happy for it.

He stayed in bed later than usual, reluctant to leave the comfort of his room. He also didn't look forward to the Council. It would be boring and full of petty disputes, of that he was certain. Such was the case whenever dwarves, elves, and men gathered together in the same place.

The sun shone brightly through his window, and after several moments of internal debate he finally decided to get up. He stood and meandered over to the window, glancing out at the elven sanctuary. Elves wandered around, either on errands or just admiring the beautiful day. It seemed strange to the ranger that this place was so peaceful, when just outside its gates darkness lurked. It was as though Rivendell was somehow untouched by the outside world, remaining pure while all around it Middle Earth was deteriorating into shadow.

The ranger stretched and yawned before turning towards his wardrobe. Several different sets of clothes had been put inside it that Gelon said fit his size measurements perfectly. As Gerithor looked them over though, he scrunched his nose in annoyance. They looked far too elegant for his tastes. He would have preferred to wear his own clothes, for they were worn and comfortable.

He threw his undershirt on and mulled over the clothes, debating which would be the least uncomfortable. He finally settled on a dark green tunic that went down to his knees, along with a set of black trousers that were made of a soft velvet material. He put both on, and to his surprise they fit him well. They weren't too tight, nor were they too loose.

After he was done getting dressed he ate a quick meal of bread and cheese left over from the night before, then he opened the door and left his room. On his way out he practically tripped over Edhael, who standing in the hallway and absentmindedly staring at the ground.

"What seems to be the matter?" Gerithor asked. Edhael jumped as if he had seen a ghost, surprised at Gerithor's voice.

"Oh! You gave me a bit of a fright! I seem to have lost something... But I forgot what it was." He scratched his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "You didn't happen to see anything out of place, did you?"

Gerithor raised an eyebrow. "No... And it'd help if you knew what you were looking for."

Edhael snapped his fingers. "Wouldn't it? I wish I knew... Wait." He reached down towards his waist, before laughing at his own forgetfulness. "My belt! That's it!" He disappeared back into his room and returned tightening a silver belt around his waist. "That should do it! Though we're both hours late to the Council! Did you oversleep?"

"I did. Intentionally," Gerithor said with a yawn. "I'd rather only be at the important parts of this council. I doubt either of us missed anything useful."

"Perhaps you're right..." Edhael replied absently as he began to walk down the corridor. "Perhaps Taliel can fill us in afterwards, she was there for the entire meeting."

"Or Caledorn," Gerithor said as he fell in step beside the blonde elf. "I'm sure he knew everything they're talking about before the Council even began."

"True, he seems like the type that would sneak around and listen in on people's secret conversations," Edhael said with a slight grimace. "He's more like a Man than an elf in that respect."

"What are you trying to say?" Gerithor said, raising his eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing! Nothing at all!" Edhael said while letting out a nervous laugh. "I forgot that you are a Man for a moment there... You remind me more of an elf."

"Thanks... I think." Gerithor said, shaking his head slightly. He was unsure if that had been meant as a compliment or not. Either way, he decided to let it go.

As they made their way through the guest house, Gerithor noticed that most of the rooms were empty. The doors were open and the entire building was silent.

"Seems as though everyone was here for the Council," Gerithor murmured, more to himself than Edhael.

"Indeed they were! Such a Council as this has not happened in many years! It will most likely be immortalized in stories and song! It's a prime subject for a ballad, or perhaps a sonnet."

"I suppose you'll be writing one yourself...?" Gerithor asked in response.

"That's the entire reason I'm here, my friend!" Edhael laughed. "What better chance than this to document historical happenings?"

"I'm not surprised, to be honest," Gerithor replied. "You don't seem like the type who'd be here under normal circumstances."

"And I wouldn't be! But when I heard about such an auspicious event happening, I had to-" The elf suddenly raised his hand up for silence as soon as they left the building. "I can hear them from here. It sounds like quite a heated debate!"

"Should we wait?" Gerithor asked as he strained to hear. All he could make out was unintelligible shouting, and Gandalf's raised voice.

"Are you daft?? Of course not! This could be rather interesting!" Edhael whispered as he continued onward.

They soon came upon the door that led into the courtyard where the Council was taking place. Two guards stood stoically on either side of the door, not moving from their defensive stances when Edhael and Gerithor approached.

"State your names," One of them said with an air of authority. The other remained silent.

"I am Edhael, and this is Gerithor," the blonde elf replied. "We are both on the guest list, I assure you."

Without looking at a paper, or even checking with his companion, the guard stepped away from the door.

"Indeed you are, sirs," He said, not changing his tone of voice. "You may enter."

==========================================

"And so we now come to speak of the North in more detail," Elrond said as the two newcomers silently took their seats. It seemed as though the Council had just finished discussing a tense subject, for several of the members were either sweating nervously or frowning at other members. "As Gloin stated previously, The Enemy has been seeking allies." He motioned towards a red-bearded dwarf who sat on the opposite side of the room, his hands in his lap. "You did not go into detail, however, on the messenger's words, aside from him saying that Sauron was seeking Bilbo. Tell us now what else he said!"

Gloin slowly rose from his seat, coughing slightly as he pulled his small wood pipe away from his lips.

"The messenger visited us thrice overall, each time more impatient and insistent than the last. The third time he rode with another. A woman. She was clad all in black and a raven was upon her shoulder. She did not speak but the messenger said that from Dol Guldur she came, and that she was the mistress of that dark citadel. The messenger also said that should we not side with Sauron, she would unleash untold destruction upon our kingdom."

Elrond frowned at these words, and paced for a moment before replying.

"And you said that your chieftains did not give response?"

"Aye," Gloin said with a grim nod. "And the messenger said that he would return one final time. If we did not respond then, he said, it would be taken as a declaration of war."

"It seems that your people have little choice in the matter," Elrond said slowly, letting each word sink in. "For even if you side with Sauron your destruction is nigh. Once his task is accomplished, he would have no further use for you, and your people would be enslaved."

"So our chieftains thought. And Prince Brand of Dale said that he would sooner die than serve Sauron."

Elrond began to slowly pace back and forth. "Then you have the aid of Dale at the very least. What of your kin in the Iron Hills?"

"They have already sent most of their warriors to Erebor. Dain sent for them when the messenger first came."

"That is good. The dwarves, at least, are mostly united in cause. Did Dain send word to the dwarves of the Blue Mountains as well?"

"Aye," Gloin said, his expression darkening. "But they have troubles of their own. A dragon has taken over their homes, and they will not send aid until it is dealt with."

"Then perhaps we should look to assist them. But that is best left for later." Elrond turned to face Legolas, who was sitting with several other elves. "Would your father send aid to the Lonely Mountain?"

"I cannot say," The elf replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps once he realizes that he has no other choice he would."

"He has no other choice," Taliel said forcefully. It was the first time she had spoken, and Gerithor hadn't even noticed her until then. "The woman Gloin speaks of is no mere servant, if the rumors are true. They say that a sorceress has taken up residence in the darkest, most forsaken parts of Mirkwood. They say that she bends the will of the creatures there and sends them forth at her bidding, which is why of late the spiders have been so aggressive."

"Pah!" Gloin said with a derisive snort. "Those are just stories, there is no such woman!"

At the dwarf's words Legolas rose quickly from his seat. "There is! I have seen her!"

Suddenly there was silence, and all eyes focused on the young elf. Even Gloin sat quietly back down to listen.

"In appearance, she is alike to a beautiful elven maiden. Her hair is long, and raven-black. She strides along the little known paths that my people make as if she is one of us. But no-one has yet spoken with her, for she disappears in a dark cloud if she becomes aware of our presence. One year past I led a band of scouts in pursuit of her, and her trail ended at the steps of Dul Guldur itself. We dismissed her at the time as a wight of sorts, a ghost long dead of that dark fortress, and took no further interest. But the words I have heard here lead me to believe that she is more than that."

It was quiet as all present attempted to make sense of the news. Gerithor was intrigued, and somewhat frightened. For several times now he had dreamed of a woman in black, standing atop the ramparts of a ruined fortress. But the dream had made little sense until now. He decided not to mention it however, as many in the Council would not believe him.

He focused once more as Elrond began to speak.

"In my mind, there is only one possibility. This woman is a powerful sorceress, perhaps of Elven descent. Such dark arts are rare, but not entirely unknown. It would, however, take many years to master them, and it would be unlikely for a mortal to accomplish such a mastery of them at all. If this is true, we have an incredibly powerful adversary."

Gloin stood once more, a questioning expression on his face. "What should we do then? Even gates of Mithril couldn't keep a sorceress out for long."

Suddenly, a dark figure leapt down from a nearby ledge and landed nimbly on the pedestal in the middle of the courtyard. He dropped to the ground and rose slowly up from a crouching position. The entire council gasped collectively, and some reached for their weapons. Elrond, however, merely nodded to acknowledge the newcomer. Gerithor immediately recognized Caledorn's piercing green eyes, and his initial surprise faded away. He had expected the elf to make a dramatic entrance.

"And a sorceress may well be the least of your worries," The dark clad elf said in a deep, authoritative voice. "For in the East an army is massing, one greater than any that Rhun has yet mustered. And they will be joined by Haradrim from the south. Most of the tribes have sworn allegiance to Sauron, and as we speak they march northwards."

At his grim words even Elrond seemed surprised. "When last we spoke, you claimed that one friendly to our cause had kept Rhun out of the War. What changed?"

"The Khan was assassinated by a servant of Sauron. The new Khan is wholly loyal to him, and he is advised by one of the Nine. Our ally has withdrawn to the north of Rhun, and is attempting to gather what forces he can to aid us. But his men alone will not be enough. We shall need more, much more."

Elrond put a hand to his head, deep in thought. Gerithor knew that their options were limited, and what options they did have weren't very good.

"There is only one choice, in my mind," Elrond said finally, his voice weary. "We must send what men we can to Mirkwood. They will convince Thranduil to aid Erebor, and together they will stave off whatever attack Sauron makes. Only together can the people of the North hope to defeat this darkness."

Gloin nodded, as did several other members of the Council. "It's as good an idea as any other," Gloin said, stroking his beard in thought.

"We will need leaders for this quest. One leader to represent each race, for only that will show Thranduil that such an alliance is possible."

"I shall go on behalf of our people," Glorfindel, who had been silently observing, said as he took a step forward. Gloin glanced at the tall elf and moved to his side.

"I'll represent the dwarves," he said proudly. Elrond looked around the room slowly, until his eyes landed on Gerithor.

"Lastborn, you have proven yourself a strong leader in the past. Will you stand up for Men?" He asked.

Gerithor rose slowly, uncertain as to whether he was making the right choice. "I will," He said slowly. He saw Aragorn nod approvingly, as well as the Gondorian Boromir. Both seemed happy with the choice.

"Very well," Elrond said. "One warrior for each race. Stand together, or fall alone. You will prove whether or not our people can stand as allies... And more importantly, the decisions you make on this journey will shape the fate of the North."