Neveil's feet are sore as she walks along the small road. Her feet had good reason to be hurting her. She had been traveling from Lake Evendim to Harlindon for four days and had only made it to (judging by a few of the very short local occupants she had seen) somewhere between Hobbiton and the Shire

She was displeased with her pace, but she was unwilling to take a horse since she was terrible with the large beasts and had no hand for animals. Harlindon was a green and fair land that Neveil had planned to travel to for years and was eager to arrive and enjoy the comparatively quiet shores.

Neveil traveled lightly. She had no pack, only a pouch on her belt that held bowstring, string for snares and flint for fires and bandages, needle, and thread for any potential harm she came across. Her hatchet sat snugly against the pouch and her sword sat on her left hip, ready to draw if needed. The dark greens and browns of her tunic, boots, cloak, and pants allowed her to blend into the forrest if needed.

The late day sun beat down on Neveil and sweat was beading on the back of Neveil's neck causing her to stick to her skin, she wished she had cut it short when she had the opportunity.

Neveil was taking a moment to enjoy the shade of sheer hill and drink from her water skin before setting off once more when she was suddenly knocked flat on her face by a heavy mass falling down the hillside. All the air was pushed from her lungs and startled her into groping for her weapon, her face and front pressed uncomfortably into the damp earth and smearing it across her.

Neveil kicked out from under the weight, which protested at her action. Once free she pulled her hatchet in hand and ready, twisting around to defend herself if necessary when she sees that its four hobbits that had landed on top of her. While Neveil tries to make a point to look for danger everywhere, she has a hard time thinking that a group of hobbits groaning in pain in the dirt and a spilled sack of vegetables gripped in one of their hands means her any harm.

Neveil huffs in discomfort as she futilely rubs at the dirt on her face and returns her hatchet to its place on her belt. She felt a bump forming along her forehead and grunts in annoyance at the throbbing pain.

The curly blond haired hobbit that had landed atop her legs (and she had kicked if the rubbing of his ribs is any indication) lifts his head out of the dirt and looks at her with a properly abashed expression. "Look Merry, a lady." He says while the others work themselves to their feet and begin to right their packs and turn to Neveil with various words of apology for falling on top of her.

"Well I can see that Pip." Says another hobbit sarcastically and looks like he could be the others twin, though there are enough differences in their features and a small difference in height that it is more likely to be a more distant relation.

"Sorry about that miss. We didn't aim to fall on you any more than we had to fall at all." Says the stouter of the rabble before me with a cautious light in his eye but an apologetic expression on his features as he takes my hand in greeting.

"My name is Sam. Those two ruffians are Merry and Pippin." He says pointing to the two who are now busying themselves with the picking of mushrooms. "And that's F-Mr. Underhill." He says, gesturing to the darker haired of the lot.

Neveil raises a brow at his correction but does not comment as she looks to Underhill who has stepped towards her.

"Are you hurt at all?" He asks, his eyes alight with concern as he took in the rapidly forming bruise on her forehead and the mud tarnishing her pale face and hair, he even swore there were a few leaves and twigs tangled in the loosely braided locks.

"Nothing to be concerned about. I am Neveil, if there are to be introductions." she says to the dark haired Hobbit. He seems pleased with her answer and nods to her before moving to look down the road with some disconcertion.

"I think the cabbages are a total loss.." Pippin bemoans as he works to return the bruised and battered vegetables to the sack.

The Hobbit called Underhill whispers something quietly in a fearful tone and Neveil narrows her eyes as a chill runs down her spine and her hair stands on end. Sam seems to have felt it as well, as he too is looking on edge, however, it is not to the degree of Underhill.

"What is it?" Neveil asks Underhill quietly as she moves to stand beside where he is staring down the road with wide eyes.

A familiar cloying cold air seemed to whisk around them out of nowhere, the air even smells cold and rotten and an unnatural shadow seems to fall across them. Neveil had felt this feeling before and her eyes widened as her hand grasped her sword handle, as useless as she knew the weapon would be against what was coming. "Get off the road!" Underhill shouts to his fellows in terror and Neveil moves to help them shuffle underneath a large tree-root, too small for herself to hide beneath.

"No matter what you hear or see, be silent and still." Neveil whispers quickly to them as the sound of heavy hoof beats become clearer, a clear command in her voice. The hobbits look at Neveil with wide confused fearful eyes all but Underhill who has his eyes firmly shut and hands clenched. Seeing that they are properly hidden and out of time, Neveil quickly moves to a large oak and spins pressing her front up against its rough bark not a moment too soon. She grasps her sword and works on stilling her shaking limbs.

'breath, breath' she whispers to herself and slowly her shaking arms is reduced to shaking fingers which she clenches upon her sword pommel. The air grows colder, and the forest falls eerily silent, birds and animals hiding themselves from whatever evil they feel. The only sound left is her heart beating in her ears and she prays the creature that comes cannot hear it. Neveil strains to listen and after a moment, the sounds of a horses hooves against packed earth reaches her ears.

Peering around the tree she sees the terrible sight that she had hoped never to see for the rest of her days.

Black tattered cloth hangs from its form as it brings the black beast on which it sits to a stop. Sickly dark blood drips off of the horses legs onto the earth thickly, revealing its dark and unnatural nature. It is then that it turns its head, reveling the utter black void beneath its shroud and Neveil feels an unnatural terror she has not felt in many years after only a her brief glance. She immediately looks away, pressing a hand to her heart as though that may still its beating.

Her fingers tremble even as she grips the bark from the terror she has felt (and indeed still feels) enter her very bones as the wrenched thing climbs down from its steed on the spot where not a moment before, the Hobbits and herself had been standing. Neveil's eyes widen in fear for the halflings.

It inhales deeply, Smelling she realizes, before coming to kneel heavily above the four Hobbit's hiding place. Neveil can see its metal gloved hands close around the tree root and the Hobbits press further into their hiding place as it continues to sniff them out.

Neveil briefly contemplates running. Fighting this creature is pointless, it cannot die and she has no fire, the only true defense against it, to use. She could not have a hope of defeating one alone. Neveil could easily escape from it while it made off with the Halflings. It clearly was drawn to them or else it would have carried on.

But could she really abandon anyone, even strangers to such a fate? Shame at her own cowardice filled her, nearly as great as the terror that the Wraith had instilled in her.

Her decision is made.

Neveil pokes her head around the tree and makes eye contact with the frighted Hobbits. She lifts a stone in her hand and their eyes alight with understanding.

With the Hobbits hopefully understanding the plan, Neveil brings back her arm and throws the stone as far from them as possible.

The wraith lets out a terrible cry and bolts toward the sound at an unnatural speed. Thankfully allowing the Hobbits take their chance to escape into the trees, Neveil following at their heels.

The Hobbits ran quickly and for a long time, clearly disturbed by their encounter with the Wraith. Neveil followed them easily till dark until they finally stop in their exhaustion. The one called Sam jumps up despite his exhaustion when she steps out of the darkness, him placing himself between her and the mister Underhill. She raises a brow at the bravery of this Hobbit to prepare to fight someone twice his size and armed.

"You followed us?" Underhill questions, and she nods an affirmation to his obvious question.

"You have no weapons." She states blandly, "and you clearly do not understand what follows you."

"Well, if you are so knowledgeable on the topic, would you mind telling us what that was?" Pippin asks breathlessly and looks up wearily from his spot on the ground. Neveil calculates for a moment whether or not to tell them before discarding the notion completely and just coming out with it rather bluntly, kneeling down with them in the bushes.

"A Wraith is what hunted you. A servant of the Dark Tower that no mortal man can defeat." Neveil says this seriously, her eyes drifting to the distant road as she pulls her hood over her head to block out the light drizzle of rain that had began to fall.

"What are they looking for?" Merry asks as loud as he dares. Pippin answers.

"They're looking for something, or someone." He says, looking pointedly at Underhill.

"Will you help us?" Sam demands to Neveil, looking at the sword clenched in her hand.

"Yes." She whispers, the answer comforting all the Hobbits present. At least they had someone skilled with a sword with them now.

"Get down!" Either Merry or Pippin says a bit too loudly for her liking but they all drop none the less just as the Wraith passes by on the road. Neveil grasped the pommel of her sword, trying to quiet her hard breaths.

"Sam and I need to get to Bree." Underhill whispers hurriedly to Pippin, fear and urgency evident in his voice. Pippin nods immediately, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Buckle Berry Ferry." He says and motions for us to follow. As soon as we leave the trees however, a great cry fills the air, and the Wraith rides into the midst of us. Immediately Neveil draws her sword, moving to divert the wraith's attention to her. All the while fighting a battle with the terror pulling at her.

The Wraith diverts its attention to Neveil, the more immediate threat to itself to retrieve the Hobbits. Its great and terrible sword slide seamlessly out of its sheath with an audible sound. In one clean quick motion it swung at her neck. Thankfully, Neveil is quick, skilled and nimble, not a fumbling youth with a dull blade, and Neveil quickly drops down and away from the strike that would have take her head. The wraith is not dissuaded and it immediately angles its sword down in a strike to disembowel her while the Hobbits hurry for the ferry. Neveil spins out of the way and drags her sword against the wraiths, mounts legs in the same motion causing it to rear up in anger with a great shriek.

A fight with a Wraith is the most foolish thing possible. All you can do is block their attacks for no mortal weapon can harm them. Even worse, if your blade ever touches the flesh of their leader, the Witch King, you will have only just enough time to watch your blade become dust on the wind before they lop off your head or worse…They stab you with a morgul blade.

Hoping she had given the Halflings enough time to make for the ferry and unwilling to continue her impossible fight, Neveil slashes at the Wraith's mount once more, cutting it deep in the flank and causing it to give another loud cry. Forced to leave her back to the creature, she spun on her heel and took off running for the water. If the Hobbits had already launched the ferry, she can simply dive into the waters where the wraith cannot follow. Neveil feels the cold breath of the wraiths unnatural mount on her back, pushing her to run faster. The Wraith lets out an enraged sounding cry at his escaping quarry.

She does not dare look back, but she knows it is at her heels.

She comes into view of the water and sees that the Hobbits had in fact launched the ferry and Neveil is relived that they had not waited for her.

The hobbits yell to her from the ferry to hurry, and Neveil can imagine the wraiths sword posed to skewer her should she falter a single step.

With a desperate cry, she launches herself from the dock and into the water. The cold nearly shocks the air from her lungs and even underwater, the Wraith's shrieks are audible.

Neveil kicks for the surface, her sword weighing her down a bit, taxing her tired muscles further as her head breaks the surface with a gasp and she can hear the Hobbits exclaiming in relief about a foot in front of her.

"Reach for my hand, Neveil!" she hears Sam's voice and with a few more moments she is close enough to grasp his comparatively warm hand and with the rest of their help, she is hauled, a sodden heap, onto the wooden ferry.

"We didn't know if you were-" Underhill says haltingly, his hand still clenched on her shoulder, based on the other Hobbit's expressions, they all worried similarly.

"I'm well." Neveil's voice shakes from the cold of the water still, "I'm alright."

"How far to the nearest crossing?" Underhill asks Pippin as Neviel peels off her sodden cloak to keep from becoming too cold. Her keen eyes watch as the Wraith kicks its horse to hurry around the body of water.

Pippin, also keeping his eyes on the Wraith responds, "Brandy Wine Bridge, Twenty miles." Neveil feels no relief at his words. What is twenty miles of travel for creatures such as those? Neveil quietly watches the wraith join the other nine as she is pushed further into the dangerous unknown with four Halfling strangers.