Well, somehow I got a writing bug and finished editing this chapter quite a bit before I had planned. So, six days later, here we have it. Chapter two.

Thank you to all who followed and faved, and especially to those who took the time to leave a note. Now, responses to reviews . . .

Jedi Kay-Kenobi and Guest, I promise you, Tauriel does not die! :p
moonryder, yes, she can hear the Ring. I will go more in depth about this later on - it is rather complicated. It also connects to her heritage, which will also eventually be explained in-depth.
warriorheart, your English is great. ;) You do raise an interesting point, as well . . .
annie, HeartnEarth, and xXx3LegTaur4Evr: Thank you for leaving me a comment! Hopefully, y'all will enjoy this chapter as well. :)

Anyways, an overview of this chapter. I decided to bring Arwen's character forward in the story more. When I first watched LotR,I remember being disappointed that her character was essentially there to add an element of romance to the whole thing - in fact, now that I think about it, it was similar to Tauriel and her story in the movies. So, this chapter includes several nice long scenes with Arwen and Tauriel.
And yes, I know that my battle scenes suck. :/

Anyways, enojoy!


Her skin hot and cold in turn, Tauriel watched as Arwen dismounted. Frodo lay on the ground, his skin chalky and his breathing labored. Tauriel could feel the tension in the small clearing.

Arwen gazed down at the Ring Bearer. Her face was glowing in the dim light, her cheeks flushed. The three Hobbits gaped mindlessly.

The Hobbit gasped suddenly, back arching as his muscles contracted violently. In the shadows, Tauriel's eyed widened. The reaction was sudden and extreme. Silently, she wondered if Arwen had done anything to cause it.

"Who is she?" one of the other Hobbits demanded.

"Frodo," Arwen said softly.

"She's an elf," one answered, his voice hushed.

Arwen stood, her eyes filled with worry. "He's fading. He's not going to last. We must get him to my father. I've been looking for you for two days." Her words were directed towards Strider.

"Where are you taking him?" One of the three spoke out again. Tauriel glanced towards the trio, irritated. Silently, she begged them to be quiet.

Lifting the Ring Bearer up onto the horse's back, Strider listened silently.

"There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know." Pushing Frodo upright on her stallion's withers, Arwen turned towards Strider.

"Dartho guin Beriain. Rych le ad tolthathon," Strider said.

Arwen looked him straight in the eyes, her mouth set. "Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im."

"Andelu i ven," he said again, his voice tinged with worry.

"What are they saying?" one of the hobbits asked.

"Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hîr, tûr gwaith nîn beriatha hon." She turned back towards Strider. "I do not fear them."

Strider stepped back. "Be iest lîn. Arwen. Ride hard. Don't look back."

Arwen spun the grey stallion, crouched low over his neck. Her body shielded the Ring Bearer as best she could.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!"

One of the three Hobbits panicked, lunging forward as if to stop her. "What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!" he shouted.

Arwen did not turn. Before the sound of hoof beats had disappeared, Tauriel was racing towards her own stallion. For once, the wizard's wishes had aligned with her own.

If Strider had thought to put his own ear to the ground, he would have heard three sets of hooves, all pacing in time. And then, if he had listened even closer, a low pounding, a rhythm that, had he known what it was, would have struck fear in his heart.

The Ulaer were coming.


At first, all was well. Tálagor's pace was smooth, his hooves hitting the ground in a steady rhythm as, behind them, Suldal loped easily. But slowly, he began to falter. Favoring his right foreleg, the grey stallion eventually began to limp.

Finally, Tauriel was forced out of her daze by his breaking of stride, throwing her half-way out of the saddle. Cursing with frustration at the delay, Tauriel flung herself out of the saddle and wrenched the stallion's legs upward one by one. Eventually, she found the injured hoof. Heat and swelling were spreading up into the horse's ankle after his fall, but the injury was easy enough to discover.

Leaning back, Tauriel exhaled. Reaching forward again, she looked at the hoof, and then winced in sympathy. A stone, sharp enough to pierce the softer skin of the inner hoof, had forced its way into the frog and up into the hoof wall. It was far too deep to remove.

Gently, she fingered the stone, pulling back as the stallion flinched and staggered to the side.

Stepping back, Tauriel looked at the horse. Head hanging, foam dripping from his mouth and sides heaving, Tálagor was almost unrecognizable. A wave of guilt assailed her.

This, she thought. This is what I eventually bring to those closest to me. Closing her eyes for a long moment, she sent a silent thank you to the stallion that had carried her for several years.

Then her blade flashed out, slicing through the horse's jugular vein, and, in a back-stroke, pierced his heart. Blood spurted as the animal's knees buckled and he slapped to the ground. Death was quick, and for that she was thankful.

Removing the bridle from the horse's head, she cleaned it as best she could and tightened the leather straps.

Something pulled at her heart. Turning away, Tauriel looked at Suldal. The mare was uneasy, her ears flicking back and forth and nostrils flaring.

"Come," she whispered. Slipping the bridle over the mare's face, she mounted and flew.


"Arwen!" Tauriel shouted.

The figure on the stallion ahead of her turned for an instant. Tauriel could barely make out her face, pale with fear. The stallion slowed. Slowly, Tauriel pulled even with Arwen's mount, despite her mare's shorter stride.

"Tauriel," she gasped. "Wha – I cannot stop. They are behind us."

Heels clapped to Sudal's flanks, Tauriel glanced backwards. Far away, just distant blurs, the Nine had burst from some off-road. Moving fast, they seemed to be gaining at a rapid pace.

Words dying in her throat, Tauriel glanced at Frodo. A green crust was clumping at the corners of his eyes. Her stomach turned.

"Never mind," she said. "Arwen, you have to hurry. His strength is failing quickly; the Black Riders are right behind us. "

Arwen looked down at Frodo for an instant. "I know," she said softly. "I can feel it. It is draining faster now. The Ring he carries . . . it seems to be calling them, stealing his very life from his body."

At her words, Tauriel glanced down. Down to where she knew – she could feel it – the ring was fastened around a chain. A sliver of gold peeked through, tantalizingly near.

Heat suddenly washed over her. Fire burned at the edges of her vision, a flame that could not be quenched.

Tauriel . . .

The word hissed through the air, and she inhaled sharply. With great effort, Tauriel forced her eyes away from the Ring. Shame filled her.

"Arwen."

Arwen glanced at her.

"Promise me that if it comes to a battle you will leave me."

Arwen recoiled as best she could in the saddle.

"No," she said. "I would not leave you. You ask too much, Tauriel. I would not betray a friend."

I would not betray a friend.

Arwen would not betray a friend, would not do what she had done. Tears pricked her eyes. Everywhere she went, everything she said, it was all a reminder. She had indeed made her choice.

"They are gaining," Tauriel finally said roughly. Ahead were trees, and beyond that she knew that there was a river. To that river they must go, and if they did not reach it all was lost.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth!" Arwen gasped. Both horses were straining, tendons standing out on their legs and necks.

"Noro lim," Tauriel repeated. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. "Please, mellon."

Time slowed to a crawl. Slowly, so very, very slowly, they neared the river. She could hear it, the rush of water. It was so painfully close, and yet so very far.

Winding and weaving in between tree trunks, letting the horses have full rein, Tauriel and Arwen raced towards the Ford.

Abruptly, a massive steed burst through a gap in the thick tree trunks. Her head whipped around, eyed wide and face pale. Panic swelled. Arwen gasped something to her, but it was unintelligible. Those black horses, eyes rolling in their sockets and blood-tinted foam flying from their mouths . . . Hands, steel-cased, reaching for her, for Frodo – for the Ring.

And then the river was before them. Just yards away, but it was too late. A hand grasped Frodo's arm, and he lurched. Arwen cried out, fear finally painted on her face.

Tauriel rose in the saddle, her sword in her hand. Her face set, she hacked downwards at the Ulaer's hand – if it could be called that. There was a sickening crunch, and a grating of steel on steel, but the Rider released Frodo. Arwen sped forward, splashing through the water to temporary safety.

"Tauriel!" she cried.

"Go," Tauriel growled. A blade clashed against hers, nearly ripping it from her hands.

Arwen half-turned her horse, then looked back. "Please," she begged. "Flee! I can stop them. Cross into the water, Tauriel."

From underneath a seemingly empty hood, something spoke. And it was the voice of her nightmares, her nightmares filled with blood and death. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

Tauriel turned the mare, and forced her onwards. She had feet – no, inches now – until she was in comparative safety. Water splashed over Sudal's hooves, and she forced a breath through her constricted throat.

The Nine paused, the horse's hooves chopping the sand.

"Give up the Halfling, she-elf," one of them rasped. Chills raced up and down Tauriel's spine. Something told her that this – this was what death sounded like.

Arwen drew her sword, the sound ringing through the air. Tauriel was still, her face chalky white.

"If you want him, come and claim him!"

The Nine drew their swords, a horrible rasping sound that grated on Tauriel's ears and made her stomach constrict violently. Her vision cleared. The Ringwraiths were advancing, swords drawn. Arwen began to speak, her words echoing slightly.

"Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer; Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer!"

"Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word, flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths," Tauriel whispered, automatically repeating what Arwen had said. The words were foreign to her, and yet she understood them perfectly.

Something shifted, and then a great wall of water swept down before them, thundering through the river. The Nine turned their horses, trying to run, then disappeared underneath the waves.

Tauriel turned to Arwen, her face slowly regaining color. A gasp came from the Hobbit. Arwen immediately looked downward. " No, no! Frodo, no! Frodo, don't give in! Not now! " The Ring Bearer's eyes rolled back, crusted with green at the edges. Tauriel moved forward, and then stopped. There was nothing she could do.

A tear, born of desperation and fear, raced down Arwen's cheek. "What grace is given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared, Mighty Valar. Save him," she whispered. The silence that followed was chilling.

Finally, Arwen looked up, her eyes softer. "He has calmed." Suddenly, Tauriel noticed that one pale cheek was streaked with blood. Raising a hand to her own face, she looked down at her fingertips.

They came away red.


"Arwen?" Tauriel called, her voice hushed. Shadows slipped across the hall as moonlight spilled over the stone pillars.

"I am here." Hair falling freely across her shoulders and down to her waist, Arwen glided across the hall. With a start, Tauriel realized that the setting was similar to their first meeting.

Must everything I do remind me of the past? she wondered.

"Why did you send for me?" Tauriel asked.

Now close enough to touch, Arwen eyed her curiously. "You have not changed much."

Tauriel's mouth tightened. "Aye. And the same could be said for you."

Arwen laughed softly. "No, much has changed, mellon. I have found peace." Abruptly, Tauriel found herself comparing this calm, stately elf with the one she had known in past years – serious when it was required, but deep down a laughing, bubbling elleth with a surprising knack for swordplay.

Now, she was different. Somehow the two personas had combined and shifted, melding together and removing any impurities. Shaking away her thoughts, she spoke.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. "Not peace, perhaps. But love."

A frown creased Tauriel's brow. "Love?"

Arwen laughed again. "You have not seen it?" Leaning closer, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, Arwen continued. "I know that you were watching me. I caught a glimpse of your two horses when I rode towards them. And if your eyes and ears were keen, you know what passed between me and Estel."

The frown deepened. "Strider." A sudden flush washed over her as realization came. "Oh." She paused, mind spinning. "Will you wed?"

Arwen nodded gently. "Eventually, if all comes to pass as it should." Head tilted to the side, she continued to gaze at Tauriel. "You have a part to play in this," she murmured.

"Yes," Tauriel said bitterly. "I do. I heard what the Council said, Arwen. I know of what the Fellowship is trying to do. And this is all that cursed wizard's fault," she spat. "If not for him, I would be far from here, and perhaps none of this would have come to pass."

"Mithrandir meant to do you good," Arwen replied.. "He fears for you and the slow decay of your mind."

A grimace twisted Tauriel's lips. "He knows nothing of me. I did not meet him until several years ago. As it was, he forced me into this – this quest."

"Ah, and that is where you are wrong," Arwen said gently. "He knows of what went between you and the Elvenking."

"What?"

"I believe that Thranduil shared with him your story – or, at least, what he knows of it." Leaning forward again, Arwen lowered her voice. "I have good reason to believe that Mithrandir knows more than the others do." She paused. "With the exception, perhaps of my father. I suspect that Ada is hiding something. He pushed some of my queries aside. And I have seen some things that make me question his role in the deception wrapped around you and your family. "

Tauriel lurched backwards, forcing herself to block out the emotions assailing her.

"I no longer seek those answers," she said roughly. "I have come to understand that it is a futile wish. Even more so, I have found that truths are often harder to understand than the many lies that surround us."

Arwen's eyes widened in mild surprise. "I was wrong," she said after a short silence. "You have changed." Stepping away from Tauriel, she began to blend in with the shadows surrounding her. "The Tauriel I knew would not have let a truth such as this slip between her fingers, nor so blatantly ignore the facts staring her in the face. Mithrandir was right. You have truly fallen, and I fear that you will never rise again. Despite your own wishes, you have a part to play in this battle, Tauriel. You may think you do not need the Fellowship, and perhaps you are right, but they need you."

Turning, Arwen began to move back down the hall. Abruptly, she paused.

"The Fellowship leaves at dawn on the morrow. Mithrandir alone is aware of your presence here. I advise you to keep well out of sight."

She disappeared.

A shiver raced down Tauriel's spine. Regret began to fill her, mixed with shame and fear. The Ring Bearer's words filed her head.

I will take it! I will take the Ring.

"You will take the ring," Tauriel murmured. A sigh escaped her lips. "And I will go with you."

But long after she had left Lord Elrond's halls, after she had slipped out behind the Fellowship and trailed them for many miles, words continued to burn in her mind, echoing again and again, taunting her.

You have fallen.

Fallen.

Fallen . . .


I hated killing that poor horse. *Sniff*

Anyways.

I am not sure when the next chapter will be up. I will be away from home for the next month or so, and writing time will be limited. As soon as I finish editing it, it will be up, though. ;)

Reviews are love!