Disclaimer: Let's see.... Nothing in this fic is mine except Runya, and I wish she wasn't.
-Prologue-
Sauron blinked. It wasn't something he normally did. Perhaps it was because he didn't have an eyelid for his one firey eye. However, if he had an eyelid, he would have blinked rapidly in confusion.
For time itself in Middle Earth was changing at odd intervals, and Sauron found himself alive even though he remembered clearly plummeting to the dark ground below Barad Dur in his own doom. The Hobbit had destroyed the one Ring.... Hadn't he?
Not anymore! stated the author in a hasty author's note. She also added that the Fellowship had just been broken, and that this story would begin at Helm's Deep.
Sauron's shoulders drooped in confusion, and the dark lord jumped. With feet! He looked down and realized that not only did he had a body, but also that he had depth perception once again. That could only mean one thing. He had two eyes once again. Sauron repressed the urge to jump for glee.
Sauron strode down from the top of the dark tower on more a feeling of duty than of whim. His new feet took him down to a dungeon he hadn't even been aware of before. Sauron frowned behind his helmed face. He thought he knew every passageway in Barad Dur. Suddenly his perplexed mind was wiped of questions and doubt when he opened the door and saw the figure before him.
She stood on a pedestal, like a statue, but that she was alive, Sauron could be sure. Her hands were bound above her head, and her large golden eyes fluttered open at his entrance. A small smile played on her ruby red lips, and she bowed her delicately pointed face down in reverance.
"I've kept 'er 'ere for the longes' time, master," began a voice that made Sauron jump. An orc had suddenly appeared from nowhere, and was watching the young woman with a sense of pride.
"Excellent," Sauron found himself saying, even though he loathed that specific adjective. The orc nodded, continuing in his curiously Cockney accent, "I've jus' been waitin' for you to need 'er. 'Ave you got a need of 'er?"
Sauron nodded, to his surprise, and replied, "Yes. Untie her and dress her in the finest that Mordor has to offer."
For a split second all his bafflement came back at the absurdity of what he had just uttered. Finest Mordor had to offer? Why, Sauron was wearing the best of the Shadow Land. The second best would indeed be rags and leathery armor. Sauron almost laughed at his words, but then his mind was wiped blank again, and he felt himself under the control of a mysterious source.
"She will be my spy," he muttered to himself, "and bring me back my Ring."
-One-
"Boromir!" Aragorn called, and stopped in his tracks, for the young son of the steward had actually appeared.
"You died!" Aragorn cried, hardly believing his eyes that were still beholding the handsome man that was certainly not dead.
"I know!" Boromir exclaimed, scratching his head. Almost seamlessly, his puzzled face morphed to nonchalance.
"Nay, my good friend," said a voice that Boromir realized was his own, "I merely fainted from blood loss, but the boat took me down Rauros to Osgiliath, where Faramir helped me regain my strength. I have returned to help your cause."
"I know!" Boromir exclaimed, scratching his head. Almost seamlessly, his puzzled face morphed to nonchalance.
"Nay, my good friend," said a voice that Boromir realized was his own, "I merely fainted from blood loss, but the boat took me down Rauros to Osgiliath, where Faramir helped me regain my strength. I have returned to help your cause."
Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but instead said, "Help me distribute these swords to the men of Rohan."
The two men did exactly that. Be it the laziness of the author or the smallness of Rohan, Aragorn and Boromir did this task quite swiftly.
"Many of these men have seen too many winters," informed a new voice. Aragorn turned to see Legolas. The Elf's eyes widened momentarily when he caught sight of Boromir, but quickly all question was stolen from his face, and he looked around, finishing his line of despair to Aragorn in Elfin. Whatever that language was.
"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn cried in English, then paused. English? What was that? All the men in the room stared at him, as did Legolas. The men of Rohan, that all seemed to fit in one room, were more confused then anyone else. They had just heard a heated argument in Elfin and English, after all.
The sound of trumpets sounded in the distance and Aragorn scurried to the edge of the battlements, which had suddenly appeared conveniently near by.
A legion of Elves had appeared at the gates, all garbed in midnight black cloaks save the one in the front, who was wearing a long trailing cloak of gold and dark red.
Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir raced the doors to open them, and Gimli would have too, if the author liked Dwarves. Since the author found Gimli unrefined and ugly, he seemed to have slipped between the lines. Come to think of it, all the woman the author deemed a threat to her love interests were also conspicuously scarce.
Boromir heaved the great door open, a feat no ordinary man could have achieved. The figure dressed in red and gold strode through the door impatiently, and dramatically threw off the hood, which must have been one of those button on hoods.
All the men of Rohan that had appeared with perfect timing gasped at the woman who now stood before them. Boromir found his heart almost stop at the sight of such lovlieness.
She was unusually tall, even for an Elf. She had dark red-orange tear drop earrings hanging from the lobes of her pointed ears, and her jet black hair shined in the flickering light of the sconces. Her hair hung down passed her thighs so if she sat she could sit on it, if she wanted to. She had large amber and gold eyes that flashed mysteriously as she looked at the men. Her dress was a red darker than her cloak and trimmed in black and gold, and the sleeves clung tightly halfway down her arms, and then billowed out with a thin orange material passed her tapering fingertips. Around her neck hung a necklace that was made of a thin black chain, but the pendant lay hiding below the low cut neck of her dress.
"I have come to honor the alliance that once existed between men and Elves." She said in a clear voice, like a river tripping over the obsidian black rocks and rich earth winding its way to the sea in hopes of finding Valinor.
"Your aid is greatly appreciated," Aragorn thanked, bowing lowly to the maiden, "may I have the honor or knowing your name?"
"Runya," the beautiful woman answered silkily, "Runya Rinuialrilwen."
Boromir took her hand, noting the slender gold ring embracing her middle finger that had the small insignia of a flaming eye, and kissed the back of her hand, suspicion never entering his mind.
