I lay awake that night, not sure what to think of anything. But one thing plagued my mind, and simply refused to leave.

Ready to take over the duties of kingship? What did he mean by that?

After saying those words, Elenlin had sent me to my own room. He had instructed me to rest, but no rest could I find.

What is happening?

He had spoken of the sickness of the wood, and of my father's supposed insanity as though he had a plan of how to fix those things.

But then, he had spoken of my reign as King of the Woodland Elves, as though they were all connected.

Perhaps he believes that for Atar to become well, I shall have to do his duties for a time.

It was the only thing I could think of that made sense. But even that, I did not understand. My Father had changed very little since I was young, and I did not see why Elenlin was deciding to take matters into his hand now, when nothing was much different then it had been before.

Except the sickness of the Wood.

But Father would fix that. He was a powerful Elf and he knew many secrets that had been lost to others of our kin. Surely the woodlands would soon be restored.

But why hasn't he done anything about it yet?

I rolled onto my side, longing for the escape of Elven dreams. Wishing with all my heart that I could simply slip away into the blissful—

A terrified wail came from the other side of the room.

Instinctively, I leaped up, my knives at the ready. But I saw no adversary, so I turned my attention to the source of the cry.

"Child! What is it?"

The boy looked up at me, holding the edge of his blanket tightly.

"It's nothing."

I picked him from his bed, holding him against my chest. His breathing was rapid, and his little heart pumped far faster than if there had truly been nothing.

You had a nightmare, didn't you.

I nearly said it, too. But, one look at the trembling, but trying so hard to be brave child, I knew that was not the wisest thing to say, nor the kindest.

Rather I set him down on the floor, and went to the window. Opening the shudders, I looked out over the glassy lake and the starlit sky above.

"Tonight shall be cold." I closed the window and fastened it. "Should you like to stay in my bed where it is warmer?"'

The child looked at me a moment, and then nodded.

I pulled back the covers and lay down, and he crawled up next to me, resting his curly dark head upon my chest. I put the covers back, tucking them in around us.

"Good night, child."

"Master Elf?" The child peeked up at me from his blanket cocoon.

"Yes, child?"

His soulful little eyes stared into mine, and I saw tears shimmering on his cheeks in the moonlight. "I-I had a bad dream."

Gently, I pulled his head against my chest, so it rested just over my heart. "I know, little one."

He snuggled close, whimpering.

"Fear not, my child. You are safe, so long as you are with me."

# # # #

Morning's rays lit up the sky, brightening all of the world with a rosy glow.

I had awoke at the first light of dawn, but, as the same could not be said for the rest of those in the house, I had remained in my room.

Now, I could hear the inhabitants, both Elven and Human, beginning to move about the establishment.

The child remained asleep, so I left him alone, deciding I would go and see what some of the others were up to.

Then I remembered how much they probably did not wish to see me—either that, or they were dying to see me and bombard me with complaints and arguments—so, I opted to leave the place and go out to clear my mind.

And that certainly did not mean wondering around the streets of Esgaroth again.

So, I determined to go straight to where a Wood Elf belongs: the forest at the Lake's edge.

The woods were indeed fair, and I listened to the voices of the forest with great pleasure. Trees whispered, birds twittered, and the wind sighed through it all.

I smiled. The concerns and cares of the night before fell from my mind like a dream, and I stood amongst the creatures of the woodland, reveling in the joys of it all.

A small fawn appeared from behind a tree, staring at me with great doe eyes. It made a small, squeaking noise, strange indeed to my ears.

I bent down to stroke it, and realized, to my horror, that the creature was crying in pain. It's back leg bore a long gash, as though some great talon or claw had torn into the flesh of it's haunch.

"Who did this to you, little one?"

Gently, I picked it up, cradling it in my arms. I took some bandages from my bag, and carefully began to wrap up the wound, packing in such herbs and plants as would help.

"There you are."

I looked around the forest, keenly aware of something that was not there that ought to have been: the fawn's mother.

"Where is she?" I stood, still bearing the tiny creature.

"I don't know."

I spun around, immediately knowing what—or rather whom—had spoken to me.

"Child!" I will admit, I my tone was rather scolding. "What, by the sea and the stars, are you doing here?"

He looked at me, raising his dark eyebrow.

"I thought you wanted me to be with you."

I sighed. "Indeed, I do, little one—" I stopped abruptly. "Oh, goodness! What is your name?"

"Bard."

"Just so. Thank you. I am—"

He came and slipped his hand into mine, looking at the little doe eyed creature in my arms. "Da."

The statement surprised me, and I was silent for a moment.

"Do you not wish to reserve that right to your own father?"

He shook his head. "I can't remember my father. He died before I was born."

Pity welled up in my heart, and I stroked the child's hair.

"Yes, Bard. You may call me Da, if I may call you my son."

He smiled, as did I. But my happiness was short lived. For I keenly felt a presence not our own, which emanated a threat of some kind. My body went taught as a bowstring, and I quickly scanned the woods around us.

As I did so, the fawn also sensed the threat, and squealed.

A twig behind me snapped, and I turned toward the noise, pushing Bard behind me. I quickly scanned the woods and saw—nothing.

There was nothing there—except several strands of some strange, white rope.

I took a step forward, trying to determine what the substance was. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, except maybe—

Spider silk!

Confusion and sudden horror struck me like a knife, as I realized what I was seeing before me. Which had not been there only minutes before.

I gathered Bard to myself, and backed away from the strange mass—right into another.

My cloak stuck fast, as did little Bard's shirt. He struggled violently trying to free himself, but to no avail. He merely tangled the web about himself worse.

"Bard, stop it!" I hissed. "Do not struggle!"

As quickly as I could, I stripped the article of clothing off the lad, having already undone my cloak.

"Come! Now!" I picked him up in my free arm, and hurried in a different direction. A chilling hiss sounded from behind us, in the direction of the web we had just escaped.

I fled toward the city, never looking behind us.

To know what was there, I did not need to.

Safe within the house once more, I set Bard and the fawn down.

"Da, what was it?"

The great, frightened eyes of the child stared up into my own, his body trembling with fear.

I bent down, wrapping the child in my arms.

"It was a creature of darkness."

He rubbed his head against my chest, staring up with terror.

"Will it kill us, Da?"

I stroked the boy's hair, and kissed the top of his head.

"There is no need to be afraid, ion nin. You are safe, so long as you are with me."