Chapter 1

Hi everyone. This is my first fic, and I'm so excited. I really hope you'll like it. It will be M rated eventually, but I'm going for a slow burn, so there will be several chapters of buildup.

Eruanne's POV

Eruanne brushed the foliage aside with her fingers. Beneath the starlight her keen Elven eyes made out rank upon rank of tall warriors. Their armour glinted. She drew in a sharp breath. Sindar. There was no love lost between her people, the Dark Elves of the East, the Avari, and these tall blond Sindar. But with the rise of the Shadow in the East, they might have common purpose. Or equally, they might be her sworn enemies. Gripping her bow, she brushed her long, dark red braid behind her back and sprang lightly from the tree. With an almost imperceptible movement of long, elegant fingers, she gestured. Out of the shadows, a huge cat-like creature made its way to her side. Her fingers stroked its fur for a moment, then with the lightest of footsteps, she began to track them. At her heels, the giant beast, her soul-joined familiar, weaved between the tree trunks with feline grace.

What was a troop of Sindar doing creeping past the eaves of Fangorn forest? Eruanne puzzled over this as she followed in the shadows of the trees. From the intonation of their voices, she could tell they were Galadhrim from Lothlorien, not from the Greenwood. The Greenwood! Again, she took a deep breath. A wave of furious anger swept over her. She drew her normally full lips into a thin line of rage. Were they from the Greenwood, she would have found it hard to resist putting an arrow to her bow. How many of the accursed folk could she have slain before she lost her own life? She no longer cared if she lived or died, but revenge would have been sweet. But no, she controlled her breathing. These were not the people of Thranduil. She had no quarrel with them. Why then was she following them? Curiosity, pure and simple.

After several hours, they left the eaves of the forest and moved through the foothills of the White Mountains. Following them became harder. She hung back in the shadows of large boulders, her keen green eyes tracking their movements. At long last they entered a narrow valley with a shallow stream cascading down its centre. As she moved with silent grace, she rounded the flank of the hillside and finally saw their destination: a mannish fortress. They marched in files up the narrow causeway, over a sweeping stone arch and across the drawbridge into the fortress. Following as closely as she dared, she got close enough to see the Men high on the ramparts.

The Men were tall and broad chested, so different in build from the lithe, almost feline Elves. They bore spears and helms which caught the last glimmers of light from the stars, and from beneath their helms she could just make out long blond hair. But the stars were being rapidly blotted out by scudding clouds blowing in from the East. Under cover of the gathering gloom, Eruanne made her way still closer, skirting high up the hillside. She crept along a system of ledges on the savage cliffs which loomed over the fortress. Behind her, the huge cat followed. Even without the darkness, its spotted pelt would have blended into the rocks around them. Only its tawny eyes, flecked with sparks of green, showed up.

Now she was high up, she could see the scene in great detail. The last of the Sindar made their way across the drawbridge, and with a clanking of chains and creaking of wood, it was drawn up behind them. Suddenly the precariousness of her situation hit Eruanne. This was no small military force – this was the preparation for a battle and a siege. And she was on the outside. Outside, with whatever enemy they were preparing for.

A light drizzle started to fall. Then in the far distance behind her, from the valley she'd just climbed, she heard a low rumbling noise. An army was approaching. Squinting into the gloom, she saw the first vague shadows of the vanguard. Yrch! Orcs, thousands of them. And trolls. And the fearsome half-breeds that she'd seen when she'd ventured through Fangorn to the vale of Orthanc. The trolls towed vast siege engines. The orcs came to a halt in battle lines. They started to bang their spears on their shields, making a huge din. As if to underline the thread, the rain started to fall in earnest, pouring in sheets from the heavens.

She could see the Men standing on the battlements, bows drawn. Her eyes were drawn to a tall figure. Unlike the other Men, he had dark hair, and held a sword aloft. The ranks of archers stood tense, waiting the command to fire. Then a bolt of lightning rent the sky. In the flash of light she saw a second tall figure standing near the dark-haired man. Tall, slim yet muscular, blond, unmistakably Elven. Then a second flash lit him again. Eruanne recoiled back against the cliff face behind her. Thranduil – his harsh, cruel yet beautiful features. She passed her hand across her eyes, then breathed again. No, not the Elven King, but someone so like unto him that they must be close kin. The same arrogance, the same self assurance, the same magnetic attraction...

Then suddenly a lone arrow was loosed, and the huge Uruk at the front of the battle lines pitched forward into the mud. With a roar the hosts of Isengard threw themselves forward. The dark haired man on the battlements dropped his sword, and a hail of arrows fell among the oncoming wave. The battle had commenced. With an air of silent determination, the slight figure of the Elf woman leaped gracefully from ledge to ledge down the cliff to join the fray. Sindar they might be, but they were her people. If she could join battle against the dark hosts, she must.

-0-

So, what do you all think? Let me know – please, please review.