The council's tone had changed now, for what was once a council of desperation had turned into one of war. A map had been placed upon the center pedestal and all but those directly involved in the planning had left the courtyard. Now the only members remaining were gathered around the map in earnest discussion.

"First, we must send aid to the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. If we can defeat this dragon they speak of, perhaps they will send warriors with you to Erebor," Elrond said as his finger landed on the Blue Mountains.

"We do not have enough men to help them," Gerithor replied, shaking his head. "Three warriors will not be able to defeat a dragon, no matter how great of warriors they may be."

"Four warriors," Caledorn said. "One of whom has already defeated a dragon." At this he rose his eyebrow wryly.

"Five warriors," Taliel said, moving to stand beside Caledorn.

"Five warriors... And a bard!" Edhael added, laughing lightly. "After all, someone will need to document your deeds of valor!"

"Well then... Five warriors and a bard will make little difference, even be they all stout of heart," Gerithor replied, smiling slightly at the last words. "We would need at least ten times that to be effective."

"Then I shall send Halbarad and the rest of the Grey Company with you," Aragorn said, motioning to the older ranger that stood a few yards away. Hearing his name spoken he moved to his chieftain's side.

"We would be more than happy to accompany you all on this quest," Halbarad said, dipping his head. "I have fifty good men at my back, they shall prepare to depart at once."

Elrond nodded slowly, approving of the decision. "Very well. Your company will need to move quickly and quietly, for if the Enemy catches wind of your presence they shall make short work of you. As at least the Rangers among us know, Fornost has fallen to the Enemy. But retaking it shall be left to others. Your quest will be to hasten to the Blue Mountains by the fastest, stealthiest route. Draw no attention to yourselves. Once there, defeat the dragon and enlist the aid of the dwarves."

"Easier said than done..." Glorfindel said skeptically. "Once the immediate threat is gone they will have little reason to aid us."

"What're ya tryin' to say lad??" Gloin exclaimed. "They're good lads, those Blue Mountain boys. Reliable as a dwarfling to supper they are. Their table manners are atrocious though."

Edhael raised his eyebrow in amusement. "Well then, their table manners must be terrible if even another dwarf thinks so!"

At the bard's words Gloin turned red, and looked as though he were about to say something foul. Glorfindel spoke up first however, averting disaster.

"Regardless their manners, all dwarves have one thing in common: They're selfish. They're not likely to help us."

Gloin tapped his finger to his nose and winked. "Ah, but ya forget! You've got a dwarf with ya! He'll tell em what's what!"

"Indeed, I only hope that they listen to you..." Elrond said as he circled the pedestal. "Otherwise we will have wasted valuable time."

"Aye, they'll listen. I have friends in high places there," Gloin said as he crossed his arms confidently. Elrond frowned, but nobody attempted to argue with the stubborn dwarf.

"Now that that's settled, what of the sorceress?" Taliel asked after a moment, drawing all eyes in the room to her.

"The sorceress is the least of our concerns at the moment," Elrond replied. "Though perhaps she will reveal herself and her true nature at the Lonely Mountain. I do not doubt that she will lead the attack, or at least help lead if she is truly as powerful as some of you have said. Unless Sauron requires her aid in the south, she will most likely accompany the Easterlings. Either way, her mystery is not yet known. Perhaps you will discover it."

"I'd just as soon not," Gloin said, shaking his head. "She's evil, and we should steer clear of her."

"I do not think we have much choice in the matter," Gerithor replied. "I was reluctant to mention this until now, for fear that I wouldn't be believed, but I have seen her in my dreams. I know not what this means but I have a feeling that it doesn't bode well."

"Nonsense, dreams mean nothing!" Gloin said with a laugh.

"Do not speak until you know what you speak of, Gloin of Erebor. Gerithor has the gift of foresight, a power that no other living Dunedan possesses. His dreams are not mere dreams, rather they foretell events of the future. Some come to pass, while others are merely branching paths of what could take place," Elrond explained. Gloin narrowed his eyes, attempting to make sense of the elven lord's words.

"Perhaps I shall see more of her in my visions that will help us," Gerithor asserted, attempting to reassure his companions. Edhael nodded in agreement, while the rest looked unconvinced.

"Listen, it's not that I don't trust your visions..." Halbarad began carefully. "But I don't think we should rely on them. It's better to rely on instinct and experience rather than dreams."

To the surprise of all, Gerithor nodded quickly in agreement. "You're right. They're often unpredictable, and they don't always show what will happen, just what could. And I hope for all of our sakes that we won't have to encounter this sorceress at all."

"Do not take your gift lightly, Lastborn," Elrond reprimanded. "It may prove more valuable than any of you yet realize."

Gerithor frowned, but did not debate the point. After all, his visions had aided him in the past. His eyes moved to Glorfindel as the tall elven warrior began to speak once more.

"Before we finish, we should discuss this "ally in the East" that you mentioned before Caledorn. Who exactly is he, and can we rely on his aid?"

All eyes turned to the dark clad elf that had until now remained unusually quiet.

"He is a prince among the Easterlings, of one of the northern Rhunic tribes. He holds sway over many of the other tribes, and he commands a substantial force of Haradrim mercenaries. If he isn't first defeated by the new Khan's forces, then we can be assured that he will ride to our assistance." Caledorn crossed his arms and said no more, confident that he had said all that needed to be said.

"Very well then. Once you reach Mirkwood Caledorn will split off and make for Rhun. With luck, he will be able to reach this Easterling in time," Elrond said. "The rest of you will enlist the aid of Thranduil and make for Erebor with all due haste. Hopefully, that will be enough."

There was silence after his words, and it was then that the magnitude of their quest sank in. If they did not succeed, the North would fall. If the North fell, it would only be a matter of time before all of Middle Earth would be destroyed, and all that was good in the world would be bathed in fire and ash. As these thoughts filled Gerithor's mind, it seemed as though a shadow crept over the courtyard, and even the beauty of the statues and trees seemed quelled by it. Is this what it would be like? Gerithor thought to himself as a cold wind blew through, causing him to shiver and put his arms around himself. What a dark world it would be indeed if the Shadow quenched the light of Rivendell.

After a moment Elrond opened the doors to the courtyard, and the darkness seemed to strangely lift, as though it were merely a figment of Gerithor's imagination. But it couldn't have been, for the others had been affected by it as well. Gloin was frowning, as was Glorfindel.

"We must leave as soon as possible," the silver haired elf said as he glanced up at the clear sky. "I fear that we have little enough time as it is."

"You must stay here in Rivendell for a time," Elrond replied. "For the Fellowship of the Ring must leave before you, so as not to stir the gaze of the forces of evil. By then supplies will be prepared for you and you can go on your way."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Gerithor said as he bowed. As he left a nagging thought filled his mind: Would it be enough?
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As the shadow lifted, a lone raven ascended from the branch of a nearby tree. Unnoticed by the Council, and even by the eagle-eyed elven sentries, the raven flew off into the forest. It flew on until it came to a dark clearing among the trees, where a single rider stood waiting. Clad in black, the rider looked like a shadowy wraith atop its charcoal steed.

As the raven approached the rider lifted a pale, delicate hand. The raven landed on the rider's arm and let out a series of caws that echoed through the forest. Dark mist began to gather around the horse's feet as the rider nodded, seemingly in response to the raven. A quiet female voice, fair yet fell at the same time, uttered an elvish phrase into the dusk air.

"Duath cova. Duath nurta. Duath tamma."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things should start picking up from here!

The phrase the woman spoke roughly translates to:

"Darkness gathers. Darkness hides. Darkness strikes."