Once upon a time when the world was not as it is today, there were lands blessed by the grace of the Valar with magical realms governed by beings of such light, wisdom and beauty that mere men were stunned if ever they chanced to spy them. The mortals called these fair folk elves or faeries and bespoke of them in both awe and dread, for they were immortal and possessed of strange powers to read the hearts and minds of men, devices for seeing the future, and magic rings that gathered the Music of the Valar as protection for their fair lands.

Now in these days were many majestic realms of the elves and most glorious of all was the land of Lothlorien. It was a garden world, settled beneath the mightiest and noblest of the trees, the Mallorn. O, the Mellyrn's trunks were as thick as a river's course, said the mortals, and their tops soared so far into the heights that the canopy could not be seen from below. The bark of the wood was as silver, pale and smooth and pure, while the foliage of the broad, oval leaves was golden as the light of the sun at dawn. In springtime the trees bloomed with yellow flowers and released the gilded leaves to carpet the forest floor, a soft cushion for care-worn feet to tread beneath the lustrous shade.

In every season these trees gave off a fine and shimmering luminescence that kept the forest in soft splendour even at night. Some say it was due to the elves that dwelt there, for it is well known that the fair folk are radiant in their own way, emitting a trace of the stardust of which their very souls are made. The elven folk of Lothlorien were called the Galadhrim, the people of the trees, and their Lord and Lady were Celeborn, Wise among the Wisest First-born, and Galadriel, Lady of Light, most beautiful and cunning among all the remaining elves of the world.

True, some among mortal kind called Galadriel the Elf Witch-Queen, but that was due to a simple misunderstanding caused in TA 2080 by misdirection of one of her telepathic messages, intended for Lord Elrond of Imladris, to Mardil, Steward of Gondor. Apparently, the vision displayed within the helpless Steward's mind presented the Lady of Light in the guise of an immense and frightening figure with the head of a lion and the body of a female elf, bearing a huge orb of blazing golden light upon her head and a Staff of Power in her left hand. Within her right was clasped an arcane symbol of life and the might of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, gleamed upon her index finger.

This horrifying entity pointed the staff at the Steward and the lion's voice roared out: "Ye shall not dishonour my daughter by taking pleasure with the new minstrel of thy court, lest ye feel the fullness of my Staff of Power within thy entrails. I, Galadriel, Lady of Light, Keeper of Nenya, Daughter of Finarfin, and Queen of Lothlorien, will be watching!" upon which she vanished. Mardil's screams roused his entire household, the healers sought to calm him to no avail, and he repeated over and over: "The Witch-Queen of Lothlorien has cursed me!" He died of heart-failure within the hour. The Lady of Light has stated, for the record, that it was due to Sauron's interference that the message was transmitted to the wrong person.

Forgive me, dear readers, for I digress.

All manner of forest animals made their homes within the Golden Wood, and some of the magic of the fair place filled them when they drank from the pure waters of the Nimrodel and the Celebrant, or nibbled upon the clover and thistle and symbelmynë sprouting in the glades and meadows. This gentle enchantment was manifest in the higher capability of thought such creatures produced, and among their own kind and with the elves they could speak and communicate. Many creatures came to dwell in Lothlorien, knowing the Lord and Lady would not turn away any refugee seeking solace from the harsh cruelties of the world outside the elves' influence. For the borders or Lothlorien were guarded by the most intrepid of warriors among the fair folk, the Wardens of the Galadhrim, and among these worthy watchers were three brothers. This story is about these very Galadhrim and mostly about the youngest.

Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil were as noble in bearing and as chivalrous in spirit as any among the High Elves living far from Middle-earth in the Undying Lands. So greatly were they respected and so lofty was their renown among their kin that they were likened as the sons of the Lord and Lady, though in truth they were not of that bloodline. Haldir was eldest and held the highest rank, being an archer of fine distinction and a leader much loved by his troops. He feared nothing and was terrifying in manner to any who dared pose a threat to his beloved home and people, yet his heart was gentle and good. Orophin was second eldest and he was considered the cleverest tracker ever to follow an Orc's trail. It was said that Orophin could tell you all the places the fell creature had been before setting foot on fair Lothlorien's soil, how many people it had killed and how long ago was its last dark deed, all from the scent on the leaves and the wind and the water. Rumil was the youngest and as all the Galadhrim he was gifted with the bow yet was no more exceptional in this than others of his age and experience. He had not discovered a means to stand forth from the broad shadow cast by his brothers' fame and glory.

Rumil was reckoned young among his folk, being but a small elfling when Durin's Bain ravaged the protected Golden Wood and murdered his parents. His elder siblings tended to be rather protective of their brother thereafter and thus it was not until the War of the Ring that the youngest of Lorien's Wardens was able to distinguish himself in valour and honour upon the field of battle. Then he slew a horrid goblin who had pinned the noble Lord Celeborn against a Mallorn and was choking him with gruesome glee. To get at the creature, Rumil had to leave the safety of his high flet, from which he had been sniping the beasts with his bow, for the goblin wore armour such that his arrows could not pierce it. With no sword, Rumil used his dagger, stabbing the vile demon in the neck. Before it bled to death, it managed to slash at the elven youth with its cruel sabre, wounding Rumil badly. Even as he lay in convalescence, the archer was pleased, thinking that at last he would be entrusted greater responsibilities and a promotion in rank, awarded perhaps a troop of his own to lead along the borders of the Golden Wood.

Indeed, these wishes were granted, for the Lord and Lady were grateful and proud of their foster-son. Yet for Rumil little changed. True, he had his warriors to command and everyday he would issue his orders and send them forth to patrol the forest's borders. It would have all been most satisfactory except that there was nothing to guard the borders against. All the fell creatures were destroyed when the One Ring was unmade. There were no more Balrogs or Ring-Wraiths, no Orcs or Uruk Hai, no goblins or trolls, no dragons or wargs, no dastardly Wizards, no hideous tentacled Watchers or ugly, hairy, giant spiders, not even any barrow-wights, evil ghosts, or sneaky crebain. There was nothing for the warriors to do. There was no incentive to remain vigilant at their assigned posts when others among their friends were singing and dancing, holding feasts and f�tes, swimming in the sparkling waters of the Nimrodel, and frolicking amid the branches of the mighty Mellyrn. Alas, it was now incredibly boring to be a warrior and no one wanted the job any more.

So it came to pass that Haldir was appointed the Vizier to the Lord and Lady, assisting in all matters of State and arranging diplomatic meetings and summits, engaging in serious dialogue with important emissaries and dignitaries from realms far and wide across the vastness of the free world. He travelled extensively and hobnobbed with Kings in Gondor and Rohan, Pashas in Harad and Rh�n, Princes in Ithilien and Dol Amroth, and Lords in Aglarond and Erebor. He was esteemed in the Shire and all the lands of Eriador, welcomed in Lindon and Belfalas, and even respected in the court of Eryn Lasgalen. Trade agreements, treaties, and alliances with Lothlorien depended upon his approval and his power was greater even than Lord Erestor of Imladris. Indeed, the two soon became friendly adversaries and whenever they met at any diplomatic affair their were sure to be sparks aplenty. Haldir relished his new role in the governance of the Golden Wood.

Orophin went into business, first establishing a chain of franchised plumbing establishments to meet the growing needs of the population as the retreat of the Shadow allowed the light of knowledge to bloom and LO! indoor flush toilets were invented. He invested some of his profits from that venture in a new and mysterious product, partnering with a brilliant young elleth, one Selldhuin Thranduiliel (yes, the daughter of King Thranduil.) from Eryn Lasgalen, who discovered a means to mass produce the Mirror of Galadriel in solid form. The technology was quickly patented and a new era in open communication was born, linking the scattered realms of Arda via transmitted images and sound visible within the small, round magic mirrors. They were an instant hit, for everyone wanted to be able to see the future, but it was quickly discovered that at some point in the solidification process the magic water ceased to have the power of foresight, showing instead pictures of random happenings throughout Arda where ever another mirror happened to be activated at the same time.

This seemed at first to signal the end of Orophin's business enterprise, but the wily Galadhrim was nothing if not resourceful. Honing in on the fact that mirrors could be tuned to a transmission from another mirror far, far away, he began producing programs and events to keep people interested and watching. In no time at all folks all over the world were activating their Tuning Mirrors (TM) to see what was being presented on Lothlorien's Transmitting Mirror (TRM). Thus was established the Lorien Broadcasting Company (LBC) of which Orophin was the president and Selldhuin the creative director. She was also LBC's chief news correspondent with a talent for getting to the bottom of a story and exposing the Truth at the core of any rumour, no matter how ugly or rotten it might be. Orophin and Selldhuin married, becoming the most prosperous couple in all the elven realms, and only Aragorn and Arwen were richer.

Alas, Rumil again found himself unable to shine within the garish glare of his brothers' successes. He tried running one of Orophin's franchises for a time, but truly disliked the nature of the work as it mainly involved unclogging pipe works that were jammed with the most disgusting sort of refuse imaginable. Then he joined the diplomatic corps under Haldir's guidance and began learning the craft of State. Rumil discovered that he quite loathed politics, finding the use of words for weapons both confusing and just shy of dishonourable. Should not one's word be sacrosanct? Should not one speak truthfully and say what one means instead of rambling all around the issue without ever committing to one course of action or another? Plus, the long-winded speeches and endless conferences and committees were even more dull than sitting in a flet all day and night scanning the terrain for non-existent enemies.

Though he knew it was wrong and felt terribly guilty about it, Rumil secretly missed the Orcs and hoary old Sauron stirring up trouble and trying to take over the world. At least when the Eye was still open there was always something to do and a purpose behind doing it. Somehow, negotiating import tariffs and establishing the protocol for a unified monetary system was not quite the same as smiting a club-wielding cave troll or slaying a rampaging warg and its ghoulish rider. Rumil felt that if he had to listen to one more self-serving lobbyist expound upon the merits of awarding the mineral rights of the formerly Orc-infested Misty Mountains to this or that Confederation of Free People he would surely go mad.

Some say he did go mad and that explains what happened. Yet if so then it was surely a case of temporary insanity, for Rumil needed all his wits about him to survive the aftermath of that momentary lapse in judgement. It was such a small thing, really, and Rumil never thought the repercussions would be so extreme. Besides, it was Legolas who actually sent the transmissions; the Galadhrim intern merely helped write the script and provided a few sound and lighting effects.

According to reliable sources, meaning Vizier Haldir and Lady Selldhuin, who happens to be Legolas' sister, the two archers were both in attendance at the annual International Summit on Transportation and Byways Development being held in Rh�n. During a presentation by one Mim, dwarven specialist in paving and road building, on the merits of pea-sized granitic gravel versus that of congealed tar when used as a surfacing medium in the construction of above ground streets, Legolas began doodling on his sheaf of parchment provided for note-taking, making clever yet mildly insulting caricatures of the attending delegates. As Rumil was seated next to him, the two were soon passing the paper back and forth, snickering and giggling as they embellished the drawings with all manner of juvenile depictions of various carnal acts between various combinations of delegates. They were causing a very rude commotion during the dwarven engineer's speech that did not go unremarked.

When the first break time arrived, Prince Faramir's Under-Vizier roundly scolded the Lord of Ithilien and the intern from Lothlorien, remonstrating them for endangering diplomatic ties between the newly allied territories of East Rh�n and Outer Angrendor. Well, Legolas was the son of the King of Eryn Lasgalen and a Lord in his own right. He was not about to be spoken to in that manner by some human upstart who had just been appointed to Prince Faramir's staff a year previous. Legolas swept from the room in a fury, promising to have the Under-Vizier fired, not only from his job but also from one of the rusty old catapults still stationed around the outer walls of Osgiliath. He dragged Rumil out with him.

They returned to Legolas' rooms, which were far superior to Rumil's, and compared notes over several bottles of Thranduil's finest vintage, discovering they shared the same view on diplomatic gatherings and politics in general. Each complained of lack of meaning to their lives and admitted longing for a real enemy that could be fought and conquered. After that they activated the TM and bemoaned the rubbish that was transmitted when what one wanted was some excitement and action. Legolas asserted that he could think up a thousand things more fascinating to broadcast, without even trying hard. It was not a long jump from that to deciding a change was in order, and off they went to take over the local LBC studio to provide something truly entertaining. With Rumil's connections and Legolas' father's wealth, it was not too hard to convince the local employees to play along.

At precisely 2 hours after ann�n Gondorian Standard Time, 5 hours past ann�n by Shire reckoning, and 8 hours past ann�n in Far Harad, all regular programming was interrupted with a harrowing image of Legolas fighting for his life, struggling to free himself from the clutches of two gigantic sabre-toothed primeval hares. The local news announcer explained in appropriate tones of restrained horror and controlled dread that Lord Legolas of Ithilien had been captured by a warren of prehistoric carnivorous hares thought to be extinct. The former Fellowship member's health and well being were unknown at the time. The only witness to the attack had apparently been devoured on the spot, with the signal collector still activated, for the next images on the TM involved a good deal of high pitched shrieking and screen shaking followed by an off-kilter ground shot of naught but a pool of congealing blood with a severed hand in it. Finally, a blurred silhouette of a hulking creature with distinctly long ears and equally lengthy fangs appeared, demanding in garbled Westron for an end to all hunting of Rabbit-kind throughout the known realms. The leaders of the Free Peoples were given one day to respond or Legolas would meet the same gruesome fate as the celebrity-stalking signal collector that had been following him.

Legolas and Rumil thought it was a spectacular joke, right up until Galadriel sent a telepathic order for Rumil to return home immediately and conveyed King Thranduil's demand for Legolas to present himself in Eryn Lasgalen for chastisement. It was all smoothed over, of course, for Thranduil had plenty of gold and jewels, and Orophin had even more, with which to appease the outraged leaders in Rh�n and Angrendor. They were not pleased with the loss of foreign trade they were certain to suffer nor were they happy about the panicked exodus of one third of the population due to the alleged presence of the rampaging prehistoric hares in their lands.

Legolas' behaviour was attributed to an acute attack of sea-longing while Rumil's actual participation was suppressed from public knowledge. The Lord of Ithilien agreed to transmit a public apology and did so, but all the while he was making nervous, jerky hand movements. It turns out they were really words in dwarven hand-speak. He was signing over and over: "Gimli, save me from this cruel torment, I beg you." Gimli thought it was a grand joke.

Thus Rumil found himself once more guarding the borders of fair Lothlorien, finding it preferable to the life of a diplomat. He learned to appreciate the fine arts of cloud gazing by day and star gazing by night, pursued while reclining on the soft grass of a lovely meadow. He found that the various animals and trees had much more interesting things to talk about than the diplomats ever did. He began practising more diligently with his bow, for he wished to compete in the archery competition during the annual Summer Solstice/Mordor Gras festival commemorating both the defeat of Sauron and the longest day of the year. Lothlorien would be hosting the event this year and he wished to make a good showing. Of course he knew he would never win, for Legolas was sure to compete and no one could ever beat him, but Rumil felt second place was well within his reach. He was looking forward to meeting up with the Lord of Ithilien again and found that a large number of the clouds he observed seemed to bear surprising resemblance to Legolas' fair attrubutes.

As it happened, a large colony of rabbit folk inhabited the gentle green meadow filled with daisies and dandelions and sweet grass and clover where Rumil preferred to practice his archery. There a great warren was delved beneath the ground in the rich warm earth and large families of bunnies of all colours and sizes lived happily beneath the trees. They knew they could count upon the Lord and Lady to protect them from hunters' snares, for the Galadhrim did not eat flesh and made their clothing from cloth woven of wool and flax and silk rather than tanned leather or fur. The hares were happy in Lothlorien, frolicking in the sun, dancing amid the gently falling rain, and singing in their funny, chirpy voices with the birds and the elves. They were organised and fair minded rabbits, for the most part, and welcomed new-comers that found their way to the Golden Wood. Among the Rabbit Colony, Cadbury was the Prime Minister and Fluffy was the Lord of the Warrens.

There were, however, some among these good hares that wished to make the rest of the world safe for bunnies, removing the threat of snares and traps that claimed so many of their kin. These bunnies were angry with both elves and mortals that dared to make food of rabbit kind, pretending they were not thinking folks with feelings and rights and their own beliefs. These rebels kept mostly to themselves, holding meetings and making plans for the Great Moment when the time would be right and rabbits would come into power and take over the world, preventing the flesh-eaters from ever roasting another 'coney' again. Among the believers of the Harey Way was Sharp Tooth, the High Priest and Droopy Ear his principal acolyte.

Now Rumil was sympathetic to the bunnies' cause and tried to explain to Galadriel about the injustice in being hunted for food, hoping she would talk to Celeborn as he was not speaking to Rumil after the Incident, but the Lady of Light refused to be moved. At the first mention of the word 'rabbit' she had thrown him out of her talan, threatening to make him go back to unclogging toilets if he did not cease his ridiculous behaviour at once.

Well, Rumil felt bad when he told Sharp Tooth that Galadriel had turned down his petition, but the hare merely nodded, saying he had not expected any help. He promised that when the Uprising began, all the elves of Lothlorien would be spared anyway because of Rumil's desire to aid them, and returned to his warren.

Days passed. Rumil practised with his bow and laid on the ground to gaze upon the stars. Sometimes when he was lying down he felt strange tremors arising from the north east corner of the underground warren, where Sharp Tooth's commune was, but none of the other rabbits knew what it was about. For the most part, the other rabbits ignored these fanatics, except when they got too pushy with their rallies, forcing folk to take their fliers and exhorting them to return to the true Way of the Hare, teaching revenge instead of peaceful coexistence. None of the other rabbits believed it would ever amount to anything and felt the less attention they gave to the radicals the quicker they would loose interest in the hare-brained scheme to conquer the world for bunnydom. As it turned out, this was a grave mistake on the part of the majority of the bunnies.

One fine morning a week before the festival of Mordor Gras was to begin, Rumil was out in the meadow shooting at targets, as he did everyday, when a most bizarre thing happened. Just as he was about to release an arrow, a small caravan of folk magically appeared right in the path of his target. Rumil hastily lowered his weapon, then raised it up again, then lowered it in confusion, then decided to hold it half-way between ready and relaxed. For the group of folk was strange indeed and never had he seen the like of such beings.

They were spiders. Great, huge spiders such as once dwelled in Mirkwood before the end of Sauron. And yet, there was something very different about them, for no aura of malignant evil surrounded the eight-legged creatures. There eight eyes were not filled with malice but shone with a gentle kindliness and their shaggy bodies, while still mostly black, were brushed as with gold dust, shimmering slightly under the pale light of dawn. Strangest of all, upon the backs of many of the spiders were small bunnies, crouched contentedly there and gazing out upon the meadow. The leader of the spiders spoke to Rumil.

"That is the strangest front door I have ever walked through! Why all the magic, good elf? We could have travelled the last league easily enough."

Rumil gaped, staring at the talking arachnid in disbelief. Behind him, a few rabbits who had been enjoying a quiet breakfast in the meadow approached to get a better look. They kept well back from the web-spinners.

"Can you not speak?" the spider asked as her cohorts whispered in aggravation for so poor a welcome. They had heard Lothlorien was open to all creatures interested in peaceful coexistence and had been looking forward to the festivities to come.

"I can speak, I am just surprised that you can as well. I have never had a conversation with a spider before. I thought all of your kind were gone from Middle-earth," Rumil said at last. "And what magic carried you here, for I would have sensed your approach before you encountered the borders, and this meadow is far within the Golden Wood's bounds."

"We are the last of our kind, that is true. We have returned from Aman where the grace of the Valar blessed us. Now we live in a small corner of Eryn Lasgalen, far from any settlement of men or elves, peacefully raising our young and helping keep down the population of deer, for we no longer hunt either the First- or Second-born for sustenance.

"We know not what magic caused us to get here in an instant. As I approached the furthest boundary of the Golden Wood, where the first Mallorn tree grows on the eastern banks of the Celebrant, I spied a strange thing. An elf stood there, beautiful and glamorous, and she beckoned for us to go hither with her across the stone bridge and partake of delights and dalliance. Well, we are spider kind and have no use for a female elf, no matter how pretty, and so I did not heed her and we travelled on.

"Next we spied a fair castle of white marble on the opposite bank, and I was sure it had not been there before yet the eyes of spiders are weak and I cannot be absolutely certain, since I was bewildered by the elf maiden's offer. This castle had graceful turrets with banners waving in the breeze, a long causeway leading to the drawbridge, and regal swans gliding across the river before it. I was afraid to go there, for men make such dwellings and they are not known for welcoming spider-kind. We turned away from the castle and went further along the bank.

"Almost at once we came upon a delicate bridge spanning the cool waters of the gentle river. Hummingbirds drifted among the flowers sipping nectar and the trees on the opposite bank waved to us in welcome. This seemed the most likely approach to use, for it must have been designed to aid those who were not able to make a web to cross the river and enter Lothlorien. I decided we would use that bridge, thinking maybe it would be impolite to send webs up into these beauteous trees without permission from them, and though I have a voice now still I can only speak to the trees in my homeland. No sooner were we all upon the span than a flash of white light nearly blinded us and when it dispersed, we were here!"

"Your story is amazing!" exclaimed Rumil, shaking his head in confusion. "I know of no castle on the eastern banks of the Nimrodel for men do not dwell here. Likewise, I cannot imagine what elf maiden would beckon to spiders, offering delights and dalliances. Yet I saw you materialise from the empty air with my own eyes and thus I cannot doubt you. I would see this fair bridge that transported you here if you would care to lead me there."

"I would do so gladly, yet first I ask if we may rest amid the branches of the fair trees here and make a net and nest for these young ones. They are weary from many days travel," said the spider.

Rumil bowed, ashamed to have forgotten his manners in all the excitement. "Of course! The Mellyrn welcome all who come in peace. Feel free to spin the dwellings you require but do not ensnare any of the creatures living here. Even the deer are protected by the Lady's favour and you will need to hunt outside the borders for your food."

"Nay, we have brought sufficient supplies to last a month, for we plan to return to Eryn Lasgalen after Mordor Gras."

"What of those rabbits perched upon your kinfolks' backs? Tell me not that these are the supplies of which you speak."

Upon being referred to by the word 'rabbit' all the small bunnies on the spiders' backs gasped in shocked indignation and began whispering to one another in angry tones. Rumil glanced down at the hare at his feet for help in interpreting this response but the Lorien bunny just shrugged.

"Oh no! What a terrible thought!" exclaimed the spider's leader. "These young ones are under our protection. They were abandoned and left behind after the Great Celebration in Aman last year, for none would help them after the terrible behaviour of those renegade rabbits who attacked the visiting writers. We could not leave them alone and afraid in a strange land, for they were but children. They have lived with us ever since and consider themselves our kindred."

"You are surely rabbits, too," said the bunny by Rumil's feet, addressing one of the spider-riding rodents who chanced to meet his eye. "My name is Flopsy, what is yours?"

"I am not a rabbit! How dare you insult me so! I am a spider, though I am handicapped and missing four of my legs and six of my eyes. Still, I contribute to our clan by the use of my clever claws and teeth," said the outraged spider-bunny. "My name is Far Swinger, which is clearly a spiderish name." The little rabbit's eyes blazed with his wrath but the long golden ears drooping lazily down over his shoulders and his cute little twitching pink nose rather ruined the image of menace.

On the ground, Flopsy exchanged glances with several of his neighbours who had drawn closer to meet the new bunnies. They were all concerned and confused, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the thought of the small ones being carried up into the trees by the spiders. Yet they also knew of the rabid attack upon the mortals at the Great Celebration in Aman. That was the work of a splinter group of the Harey Way, known as the Plot Bunnies, and the good rabbits of Lorien did not like to think of the descendants of those mad hares dwelling anywhere near them.

"We will need to report this to Cadbury and Fluffy," said Flopsy and his cohorts murmured agreement. The Lorien-bunnies hopped away and disappeared down their rabbit holes.

Meanwhile the spiders were moving into the trees, casting their long webs up high and scampering into the canopy. In no time the air was filled with their lively chatter and they began a spinning song as the new nest was constructed. Rumil just watched, fascinated by this heretofore unglimpsed aspect of spider culture, and thus was taken completely by surprise when Legolas suddenly appeared beside him.

"Bugger a Balrog!" the Lord of Ithilien muttered, looking left, right, and all around in utter bewilderment.

Rumil jumped about a foot. "Legolas! What are you doing here and how did you arrive unannounced? Ah, wait, I know this story. You saw a temptress elf maiden, a magnificent white castle, and a delicate bridge."

"That is so," answered Legolas. "These are strange new wards the Lady and Lord have placed upon the borders of fair Lorien." He stopped speaking abruptly as the sound of the spider-song met his ears and slowly his eyes travelled up into the heights where the arachnids were busily spinning their silken nets. "Ai! Ai! Spiders have come!" he shouted and in an instant had his bow in hand, preparing to fire upon the eight-legged beasts that so long had plagued his homeland.

"No!" Rumil screamed and tackled the former Fellowship member, knocking him to the ground and causing Legolas to miss his shot for the first time ever. "Do not hurt them, they are peaceful and good." He stared down from his position draped across the Wood Elf's chest into the depths of Legolas' lovely blue eyes, imploring the famed archer with his equally appealing lapis coloured irises.

Legolas smiled and relaxed under the comfortable weight of Rumil's warm body. "If you wish it, I will let them be, Rumil," he said softly. "Why did Galadriel put magic guideposts on the borders? Is it to do with Mordor Gras?" He casually ran his hand over Rumil's pale yellow tresses, hanging in an enticing curtain framing the Lorien archer's fair countenance. "You must use Lorien� Shampoo and Conditioner, your hair is so shiny and soft."

"Thank you, yes I do. I saw the advertisement that says you use it, and since I wanted my hair to look just as fine as yours does I bought a whole case so as not to run out. I have no idea why Galadriel put these strange spells on the borders; no one told me anything about it. So, you did not wish to follow the voluptuous elf maiden?" He smiled knowingly at Legolas, took a firm grip on the Wood Elf's wrists, and kept them pressed against the ground to either side of Legolas' head, admiring the way his golden hair was all strewn across the clover, his cheeks just slightly flushed. Rumil focused on his captive's ruby lips, so full and moist and inviting, and wondered if he dared to steal a kiss.

"Nay, she was no temptation to me," said Legolas quietly and smiled as Rumil dropped his head closer and closer until at last he felt the Lorien archer's tongue sweep across his lower lip just before it slipped inside to meet his. They explored each other in lingering bliss.

"EEWWWW! Bleh! They are sharing spit!"

"Cover the young ones' eyes!"

"Next they will be pulling off their removable skins."

The high shrill voices interrupted the elves and they both looked up to find what seemed to be a thousand eyes peering down on them from the branches. At once they broke apart, Rumil rolling off and rising to help Legolas up. They spent an embarrassed moment straightening hair and clothes as the spiders and the spider-bunnies snickered and laughed. The pair of archers turned with as much dignity as they could manage and walked hastily, but regally, from the meadow.

Rumil cleared his throat and glanced sidelong at his guest. "I should report the arrival of the spiders and those bizarre bunnies to the Lord and Lady. Will you accompany me? Perhaps they will be able to explain about the enchantment."

"I would be glad to come along. I say, it is going to be a very warm day, is it not? If your duties permit it, perhaps we could go swimming after you make your report," suggested Legolas, meeting the oblique look with one of his own. He smiled as he felt Rumil's fingers reach for his.

"I would like that," Rumil smiled back and hand in hand the two made their way to Caras Galadon.

Lord Celeborn was not amused by their claim of talking spiders that had appeared from thin air transporting small, confused rabbits on their backs, intending to participate in the upcoming festival. "Legolas Thranduilion. I am not surprised to find you at the root of this ridiculous story. What are you plotting? Out with it! I will not have Lothlorien made a laughing stock by your juvenile pranks. If you do anything to disrupt the Solstice Festival I will have you confined in a hollow tree indefinitely!" he thundered, looming over the smaller elf so closely that his breath ghosted through Legolas' hair.

"I assure you, Lord Celeborn, I had nothing to do with the arrival of these spiders. They were already here when I appeared and�" Legolas tried to explain.

"Silence! There are no talking golden spiders! There are no miniature lop-eared bunnies dwelling with them in the Mellyrn trees! Do you take me for a fool?"

"Nay, Lord, he is not lying," Rumil tried to intercede but this only made the elder elf angrier.

"Enough! I will not tolerate it. Rancvell! Camlong! Bind him and take him away!" Celeborn called for two sturdy Galadhrim and they hastened to obey his order, taking hold of Rumil's arms. "Nay, nay, you idiots!" snapped the wise Lord. "I meant Legolas. Rumil will not cause any trouble with him out of the picture."

"Nay! Unhand me!" Legolas tried to escape but both guards pounced and soon had his hands bound behind his back, though he kicked and screamed and fought them. "This will not go well for you once my father learns how you have treated me!"

"Adar will be pleased to see someone teaching you some manners," said a new voice. It was Selldhuin, Legolas sister and LBC's chief news corespondent. She was visiting her father-in-law, going over the TM coverage of the upcoming celebration, and had overheard the entire conversation.

"Saes, Theliaur," (Please, Older Sister) Legolas begged. "I swear this is not my doing! Do not let them confine me inside a tree! You know I cannot abide such small spaces!" But Selldhuin heeded not his pleas and entreaties and the guards dragged him off deep into the woods, Celeborn and Rumil following.

Presently they came to a huge old Mallorn and halted. Celeborn murmured the words of an ancient spell Legolas had never heard before and a hidden door opened in its trunk. Without further ado the guards shoved him inside. As the door swung shut and disappeared, they could hear Legolas screaming.

"Let this be a lesson to you," Celeborn turned to Rumil, who was staring in wide-eyed horror at the tree, a hand clamped over his mouth. "No more of this foolishness. It is high time both of you grew up and started acting your ages."

"Ai, Lord Celeborn! He sounds very upset in there. Is he going to be all right?" asked Rumil in a shaky voice, wincing as a steady thumping issued from inside the tee as if someone was banging their head against the wood, which was exactly what poor Legolas was doing.

"Aye, he will be fine. We will just let him stay in there until sunrise on the morrow. I am certain that will convince both of you to abandon whatever stunt you were planning." Celeborn rapped sharply on the tree trunk. "Do you hear me, Thranduilion? I will have you released at dawn tomorrow if you give me you word not to embarrass my people with one of those hare-brained pranks of yours." He did not wait for an answer and left, taking Rumil and the guards with him.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to even Galadriel, other travellers on their way to Lothlorien had already been waylaid by the strange enchantments. Indeed, the twin Lords of Imladris were about to enter their grandparents' realm, cantering up toward the ford of the Nimrodel upon their valiant steeds Nirmë and Namië, when both horses suddenly shied back and skittered sideways across the path, attempting to turn tail and bolt. In vain did Elladan and Elrohir try to calm their horses and in desperation they dismounted and let the stallions flee into the meadows surrounding the Anduin.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Elladan asked his brother.

"I have no idea. Never has Nirmë acted so flighty," replied Elrohir. Then he spied a fair elven maiden waving to them further along the path.

"Welcome, good Lords!" she called in her seductive voice, surveying them each with a long lascivious stare. "You have journeyed far and are in need of rest and renewal. Come with me and I shall tend to your every need and desire."

The twins shared a decidedly smarmy leer and promptly flanked her, each wrapping one of her slender hands over their sturdy arms.

"Why that is very kind of you, pen vain," said Elrohir. "What is your name?"

The maiden only smiled and led them onto the stone bridge. As soon as they reached its centre a blinding flash of light surrounded them and when it had dimmed, the twins found themselves in a dark and dingy cell smelling of moist earth and roots. The alluring maiden was, of course, gone. In a moment their eyes adjusted to the gloom and they looked about.

"Well, this is a most unexpected outcome. Generally I find ladies amenable to my charms," grumbled Elladan. He walked to the barred doorway and gripped it, shaking it hard. The metal held fast and did not even budge.

"I think perhaps she was not really an elf," responded Elrohir, feeling around the back walls for any sign of another door or a weak place to exploit.

"Hah! You think?" This harshly sarcastic voice resounded through the dire dungeon and both elves peered through the bars to the cell across from them. There, seated on a heap of straw, was Eomer, King of Rohan.

"Valar! Eomer, how long have you been here?" asked Elladan, amazed to see their human friend there.

"I was captured two days ago, for before the festivities I was meant to hold conference with Lord Celeborn regarding the trade of horses. I am glad I came alone, for if Lothiriel had been taken prisoner I would be beside myself."

"Indeed," Elrohir intoned. They were quiet for a time and then he remarked: "You followed the maiden, too?"

"Ai! Lothiriel will not be pleased over that," commented Elladan.

"Oh you cannot imagine. I almost hope I am never rescued. She will have me bound and tied to stakes in the ground, then she will coerce a stampede of wild horses to trample me," said the morose King of the Mark, "after which I will have to sleep in the stables for who knows how long."

A coarse rumbling guffaw issued from the cell next to him and for the first time the twins noticed there was another captive. A puff of smoke issued from this prisoner's lips as he lowered his pipe, rose from the ground, and stood so they could see him. It was Gimli, Lord of Aglarond and long time friend of Legolas.

"At least you will soon be missed and searched for. I did not tell anyone I was stopping here. They think I am en route to Dale."

"Gimli!" exclaimed Elladan. "You were seduced by that elf siren?" There was much amusement in his echoing voice.

"Nay! I saw a great castle of men and was curious to know what folk had dared set a hall so grand within Lady Galadriel's lands. As soon as my feet touched the drawbridge, a white flash like a bolt of lightning engulfed me and carried me here," he retorted with contempt. How could they imagine he would find another comely after looking upon the fairest elf of them all, the Lady of Light, his Galadriel? The very idea made him bristle with outrage and he spat into the dirt.

"Who is doing this?" asked Elrohir. "Have you seen our gaolers?"

"Aye, and so will you soon enough. They know when one of their snares is sprung and will be along shortly to see what they have caught," said Gimli, resuming his spot on the ground and puffing his pipe.

"Then who is it?" demanded Elladan. "What do they want of us?"

"I think it best to let you see and hear that for yourselves. Never would you believe us if we simply explained it," said Eomer.

"I am sure we will not disbelieve you under the current circumstances. Just tell us," urged Elrohir.

Before either of their cell-mates could reply, a loud clanging sound as of metal bolts being drawn back filled the confined space. Then the glimmer of torch light flared at the far end of the cave, casting shadows upon the walls as the captors approached to inspect their latest catch. The light bounced and danced as they came and the shade thrown before them gave an impression of stooped and lurching beasts with bizarre appendages that seemed almost like rabbit ears. The next instant the creatures came into the elves visual range and Elladan uttered a garbled cry of shock while next to him Elrohir slumped to the floor in a swoon, completely senseless.

Elladan stared in disbelieving dread up into the beady eyes of a huge grey and white hare, its black nose wiggling and its yellow front incisors bared.

"So. The Lords of Imladris have fallen into our clutches," it said with a menacing laugh. "Soon we will have someone from every realm of the Free Peoples under our power. The day of Justice is at hand!"