I own nothing.

It had long been rumored that lurking in the shadowed places of Avathar were Ungoliant and her spawn, that in Avathar lurked Spiders. Nerdanel had told Aredhel that these tales were true; as a child, Aredhel had been regaled by her aunt's tales of traveling there with Fëanor during the days of their courtship. Aredhel had wished to see these lands for herself, but to ease her parents' worried minds, she had never visited Avathar.

Perhaps that thwarted curiosity had been why she chose to ride through Nan Dungortheb. Aredhel had seen the nervous faces of her escort. She had heard the concerned warnings of the Doriathrin march-wardens. She had looked over that shadowed land, felt her horse tense up as it looked towards the valley too. Aredhel had looked into Nan Dungortheb, and felt not trepidation, but eagerness. It had been entirely too long since she last felt such a thrill of excitement.

There were indeed Spiders lurking in the crags and caves of Nan Dungortheb, the spawn of Ungoliant (Although there was no telling where their mother was). When they came, Aredhel felt no fear, though her escort's panicked shouts filled her ears, though her horse whinnied and threatened to bolt. Her veins flooded with feverish energy.

This was not a desperate battle. This was merely another hunt, the sort of hunt that she had missed so dearly. Aredhel drew her bow to hunt, to hear the creatures scream in horror when her arrows pierced their flesh. When she ran out of arrows, she drew her sword, and let her white sleeves run black with the Spiders' blood.

Aredhel only began to feel her elation leave her when she looked about her and realized that she couldn't see the three who had been with her anywhere.

"Glorfindel? Ektelion? Egalmoth?" she shouted into the dusk. "Where are you?!"

There came no response. Aredhel scoured the gloom, looking for any sign of them, and saw nothing, heard nothing. No glint of armor or weapons, no sight of Glorfindel's highly visible golden hair; no sound of her friends' voices nor their horses' whinnying. There was only the vast, impenetrable gloom, and the wind whistling in her ears.

Worry replacing reckless energy, Aredhel turned back towards the place where she had last seen her companions, but no matter where she looked, she could not find them. She found only Ungoliant's spawn pouring out of the hills, seeming to melt out over of the very shadows. And this time, she felt no elation upon being beset by the fell creatures of Nan Dungortheb.

But then, the Spiders paused. Something had drawn their myriad eyes, something else that lurked in the diseased hills overlooking the valley. To Aredhel's amazement, as quickly as they had scuttled out of their haunts towards her, they fled back to their holes, disappearing from sight.

"My, they are quite a skittish bunch, aren't they? They don't live up to their mother's reputation at all."

A voice rang out in the silence. Aredhel whipped about at the sound of it, staring all about her, trying in vain to pinpoint its source. The voice, low and somewhat hoarse, was distinctly feminine-sounding; it filled her ears, filled the air around her, and seemed to come from everywhere. Though she was barely aware of it, the tension began to bleed out of Aredhel's limbs; she relaxed her grip on the hilt of her sword. "They seemed fierce enough to me," she called out, watching for any telltale sign of movement.

The nís, still lurking somewhere out of sight, laughed incredulously. "In comparison to the light-eater, no, I don't think so! You seem fiercer than them, Lady, to my eyes. At least you would not flee when confronted by a greater threat."

Aredhel frowned, wondering what exactly the nís had meant by "greater threat." As though being doused in cold water, she became more aware again, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword. "…Thank you. But…" She searched her mind for the right words, wishing for once that she the sort of diplomacy that her niece possessed "…If you are my rescuer, will you not step forward, so that I can thank you?"

There was a long pause. Aredhel's horse scuffed at the ground restlessly; she stroked the mare's neck soothingly, willing herself to remain calm as much as the horse. Someone or something that could frighten the innumerable spawn of Ungoliant was certainly not to be trifled with. She was alone, and though she had her sword and her knife she had no arrows and no armor. There could be no provoking a fight here.

Then, the voice sounded again, with a distinctly pondering note, and far too close by for Aredhel's comfort. "Well, if you wish…"

She should have been more alarmed by what she saw. She should not have slid off of the back of her horse, and she should not have just let the now-terrified mare flee from her, so fast that it was only moments until Aredhel lost sight of her to the shadows. She was vaguely aware that she should not have been simply standing there, staring at the one who had now come before her. But for the life of her, Aredhel could not say why.

The figure was vaguely reminiscent of one of the Eldar. The nís, she stood on two legs, and stepped forward with a strong, confident gait. But her bare feet were long and clawed, and her hands were just the same. Tough, leathery wings sprouted from her back. Her long, tangled black hair fell over her shoulders like a cloak. Her skin was deathly pale, possessing the bluish, veined appearance of a drowned corpse. The nís's dark eyes gleamed like burning coals. There was something familiar about those eyes, something that Aredhel had seen before, but could not place.

"My name is Thuringwethil," the nís said with a thin smile, as she drew nearer to Aredhel. "It is pleasing, to at last see one in these lands who is not of Ungoliant's lineage."

"My name is Irissë," Aredhel heard herself responding. "I am known as Aredhel by the Sindar. …Thank you for your aid." She was unable to tear her eyes away from Thuringwethil, staring in hazy wonder at her form.

A knowing look came over Thuringwethil's pallid face. "My form is strange to you."

"Yes," Aredhel replied frankly. All the while, her grip on the hilt of her sword slackened so much as for her hand to fall away from her sword entirely.

Thuringwethil shook her head. "It is of no concern," she said soothingly, and against all logic, Aredhel found that she believed her. "Now, I can guide you safely out of this land. But as with all things, there is a price for my aid."

"And what might that be?"

Thuringwethil leaned very close over her, her tangled hair brushing Aredhel's cheeks. She grinned, and revealed long, sharp teeth.

"It is but a simple thing."

Note: The reason Aredhel uses Glorfindel and Egalmoth's Sindarin names, but not Ecthelion's, is because the former two have indicated that they prefer their Sindarin names in daily usage, while Ecthelion has not.

Ektelion—Ecthelion

Nís—woman (plural: nissi)

And I'm sorry. It seems like even in AUs, Aredhel still runs into all the creeps.