**Yep, it happened.  I finally was able to find a better name for this book.  Triumvir.  (Pronounced try-UM-vur, almost like triumphant, only with a vir instead of a phant.)  Triumvir means "a ruling body of three".  At this point, I think my chapters are going to start getting a little confusing, as I'm not too sure where I'm going right now, plot-wise...so any "constructive criticism" comments would be most welcome. :)**

*~*

A figure stood alone on the top of the dwarves' mountain-fortress.  He was watching the sun sink into the west, a globe of fire among cushions of purple.  Around him -- north, south, east -- all was dark.  A crescent moon rose in the dusk of the east, the same sliver that had shone down upon a far away fairy wood -- almost 14 years ago now.  The same boy looked up at it, marveling at its mystery.  He heard the trees rustling in a cold wind far below, whispering secrets to each other.  This was Eltar's favorite place to be, and he often came up on an evening, to rest and think.  Tonight he w

"Wouldst thou but listen to me, lord, I believe thou shalt be convinced in this matter."  These words were addressed by a dignified, silver-haired elf to an equally dignified elf-lord, with hair of midnight and eyes of grey.  The elf-lord frowned slightly and stopped his troubled pacing.

"Speak then, Deyn," he ordered the other.  Deyn, who was obviously a counselor, spoke earnestly.

When the sun sinks low
And the moon starts to show.
A figure will dance out of his cave in the park.
He’s set and he’s ready for the evening lark.
A sigh of his strings and a song in the night
Stirs the teapots that sit in the soft moon-light.

Every night they float out
At the ’Night Elf’s first shout.
Yes, late every night
When the moon shines bright,
The teapots will dance
Like they’re in a trance.

Shadows lay somber dismissing laughter
The hanging stars presently concealed
Though in eyes of the elf they still shine
He stands steady amid the field
Tireless, gazing along the path
Resting the eagerness of mind

The pale moon now comes forth
From under the blanket of dense cloud
Reflects on the bow between swift fingers
Glitters on the work of great endeavoring
Made fairly, the bow from Caras Galadhon
For use of the elves who in Lorien linger

Chapter the Fourteenth

Some months later, across the East Sea