Chapter 2

Raksha awoke early in the morning, the sound of orcs crying for her blood still echoing around in her head. She had dreamed that she was back in Mirkwood, pressed up to the cliff, but this time the orcs were not ugly. They were terribly beautiful High elves, a smaller, light version of the NightSong elves. Each of the archers was a figure from her past; her best friend, who had been killed in front of her eyes as a young child of six thousand years, the healer who had given her a tincture to supress her abilities. The many, many guards who had kept her under lock and key for a large portion of her thirty-two thousand years of life. And the Uruk… he was the only visitor she had gotten… and she did not want to think on that, for fear of being unhinged. God, she hated these nightmares. They never happened when she was a wolf, living in the wild on her own. It had something to do with the wolfs' brain shape, not being able to hold comprehensive memories. She could remember everything still, but it was 'filed away' in a neat manner, the way of a top predator, and couldn't float around in her head to terrorize her dreams.

Elrond's footsteps echoed around the honeycomb rooms of the healing houses, making her vision distort in a strange, somewhat dizzying manner. Even though she healed very fast, she was still low on blood. And being blind was no good if your equilibrium is off. Echolocation can only get you so far. She held her head in her hands, trying to sooth the pounding headache that had started up in her temples.

"How are you this morning?" Lord Elrond asked, softly enough that it did not aggravate her pain. She flicked her ears at him.

"Bad headache… I'm fine. The stitches are good to come out tomorrow. Do you have any water?" Water would help. Lots of water.

"Just a second." He turned back through the door. The past few days, she had been delirious, slipping in and out of consciousness, so she hadn't gotten a good echo on him. But now, in the stone rooms that bounced sound so clearly, she saw him well.

"No!" she cried, throwing herself backwards, away from him, the one from her dreams, the one from the Otherworld.

"Raksha? What's wrong?!" Elrond spun in alarm at her shout. He took a step back towards her.

"No! Stay back! You were dead, you were dead, I killed you, how can you be back…" She rambled on, verily shaking in terror. Her beautiful copper eyes, so much larger than any Elrond had ever seen, flicked around as though looking for something that was not there. Her long black ears, trailing strands of silver hair, twitched all over the place, picking up every little sound, even his heartbeat. Worried that he might disturb her further, he left quickly to find Arwen. She could deal with the psychotic creature. He was too far out of his depth for his own comfort.

He found his daughter right where he knew she would be, on the balcony adjoining her room.

"My daughter, I need your help."

"Ada, what could you possibly need my help for?" Arwen was clearly shocked that her dad would come to her for help. He was by far wiser on all fronts.

"I have a female patient in the recovery room who is not wearing any clothing and thinks I should be dead. I need you to talk to her. And bring a really long dress with you." Elrond dropped his head to his daughters shoulder. "Be careful. She is very unpredictable, and strange. And sometimes a wolf." Arwen looked at her father and took a step back.

"Uhh… what makes you think I can deal with her better than any other healer?" She was doubtful, of her own ability and her father's sanity.

"You're a calming influence, and a woman. Apparently she doesn't like men. Please, daughter, do this for me."

"Alright, ada. I will see her in a moment. Do you know her measurements? For a dress?" she stepped past her father, through the double doors that stood open behind them, and towards the large closet that stood open to the left. Elrond shook his head no.

"I never saw her standing. All I know is that her waist is tiny, her bones prominent and sharp, her legs are disproportionately long and her skin is as black as tar." He sat delicately down on the edge of her bed, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Even a full night of rest did not make up for the three days spent caring for the great wolf. Arwen hadn't actually seen the animal, but her brothers had described it for her, from the sweeping tail to the silver Celtic markings on its face. Arwen would do this for her father, but first, she needed to find something for her to wear.

"Can you at least make an estimate of how tall she is?" he father made an undignified snort, then said simply:

"Tall. At least eight feet. Really, really tall." Arwen looked at Elrond incredulously. She wasn't sure what to think of that.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Elrond stood up, and faced the black haired elf. "Her shins are almost as long as my arm. I'm pretty sure." He strode back out the way he had come in, but this time turned towards his library instead of the healing houses. Lady Arwen grabbed the longest dress she had and dashed out after him.

Raksha was curled in the corner when Arwen arrived. Her stunningly beautiful face was marred by brilliant gold streaks, and her swirling copper eyes didn't focus on her right away. Her ears did though. As soon as Arwen entered the room, those long, delicate ears perked strait up. She is so beautiful, Arwen thought. But she looks so unsure… it's like she can't see me.

Arwen lingered in the doorway, watching to see what the strange being did. Raksha shifted her ears around, and sure that Elrond was nowhere near, started to uncurl herself. She stayed low to the ground, in a long, spread out crouch. Arwen could see what Elrond meant by a "tiny waist". Just above her hipbones, the woman's waist was only a third of the width around as the younger elf's. Her bones, and the lean, powerful muscles covering them, were sharp and prominent, well defined in a way that made her beautiful and dangerous.

"What is it that you are carrying, my lady?" her cool voice sent a thrill through Arwen's spine, like hearing a new song. And in a way, it was like she was singing. The changes in tones and inflections were foreign to Arwen, and she couldn't help but want to hear more.

"It's a dress for you to wear, lady…?" she implied for her name.

"Raksha. Or ShadowSong, your choice. I answer to either. And if you wanted me to dress, someone had only to ask. I prefer my wolf body to this one. It has so many memories that I'd rather forget…" Raksha looked sad, then started to stand up. At an upright crouch, she was nearly able to look into Arwen's eyes, and when she stood upright, her ear-tips momentarily brushed the eleven-foot ceiling before she let them lay naturally behind her.

"Do you mind if I change? My form, I mean?" Arwen shook her head no, she did not mind. In fact, she was rather curious to see how this would work.

Last night, it had taken nearly an hour to completely change to a NightSong, but she had been badly wounded then, and far too tired. Today, though, she was well rested and in considerably better health. The change barely lasted half a minute. With a crack like breaking bones, Arwen watched the tall elf figure change into a graceful, and no less tall, wolf. She was the most beautiful of the wolves that Arwen had ever seen, with her jet-black fur glinting silver in the light from the door, and the intricate knot patterns between her eyes gleaming. Her tail curled around her paws like a cat as she sat down on her haunches.

"Much better." Arwen was not as surprised as the men when she heard the haunting voice in her head, but she still jumped a little at the intrusion.

Raksha 'looked' past Arwen , to the halls beyond, but she couldn't see very far because of all the distortions in the faint echo's. She knew that she would have to get outside soon, or she would start to over heat. Nightsong elves loved enclosed spaces, especially caves, but a wolf was too well adapted for life in a cold environment for that.

"Walk with me?" she gestured to the door with her nose, then strode past Arwen, out into the hall. A window at the end of the hall let in sunlight and fresh air. Raksha paused just before the brilliant bar of light, turning to look at Arwen, who had to trot to keep up with the she-wolf's long strides. Satisfied that Arwen was not lagging too far behind, she swung her massive head back around and took another step…

Right into the bright sunlight. She yelped and flung herself sideways, crashing into the delicately carved wall. Her head cracked hard on the stone, but it didn't seem to faze her. She cried softly, her ears twitching every which way, trying to find the source of that blinding pain that had so affected her. Her tail was tucked firmly between her legs, and Arwen's heart throbbed to see the confused expression on the werewolf's face. A theory popped into her head, and it saddened her to think it.

"Raksha, how did you not see the sunlight?" the wolf just looked at her mournfully. Except that, if Arwen was right, she wasn't looking but listening.

"Are you blind?" by the Valar, she hoped not. But the great black wolf nodded her long snout and seemed relieved. She closed her eyes and relaxed a bit. She lowered her head, smiling a wolfish smile, laying her ears down and wagging the end of her long, fluffy tail. In wolf body language, it meant 'I'm sorry'. Then she grinned, showing long, needle sharp teeth that were jagged as a saw blade, and bounded through the halls to the cobble stone road, where she paused to sigh a great, relieved sigh. She could hear Arwen standing at the last corner, leaning on the wall behind the door to see what the she-wolf would do now that she was free of the confining walls. She could not see the roof.

Raksha relaxed greatly, a tension she hadn't even noticed draining from her like water off a beavers pelt.

Raksha's ears barely twitched, then she spun so fast, Arwen didn't realize that she had moved until she was looking strait into her face. But the giant wolf wasn't looking at her with those swirling, sightless eyes. She was looking along the rooflines, several feet above her head. She yipped, fairly loudly, then with a crunch, shattered the arrow that was clamped her teeth. It fell to the ground in many pieces. Arwen was shocked. She had not even seen the arrow coming, had not noticed anything amiss. But a wolf, and a blind one at that, had caught the arrow when it was right behind her head. Apparently, what Arwen had considered to be a weakness was actually a benefit. She would have to tell her father about this, lest he make the mistake of coddling her.

Raksha spat the bits of broken weapon out of her teeth, then, still looking up at the roofs, smiled and wagged her tail, wolf for 'you are forgiven'. Arwen strained her ears, listening for a response to the wolf's silent communication. The faintest sound of footsteps on tile, and Raksha's face fell. Her tail drooped momentarily, but then she looked back at Arwen, and she seemed happy as a puppy with a bone. She bounded down the street like a dear, jumping six feet into the air with each step. Arwen laughed and followed, feeling glad that Raksha was happy, and relieved that she was unharmed.

They spent several hours in the gardens, playing like children. Raksha even played fetch with a tomato rod. When they grew tired, and Arwen mentioned that she was somewhat hungry, they turned up to the dining halls. Dinner was not far off, so many of the elves were already assembled. The streets where they walked were almost empty of other people. The few that they passed reacted negatively to the massive predator that waltzed through their streets. Raksha's presence was met with glares, angry signs and outbursts of fear and protest, the closer they came to the dining hall. By the time they had reached the doors, the blind werewolf's head hung low, her tail dragged, and her great paws scuffed the ground.

To make matters worse, the elves watching the door wouldn't let the giant wolf through. Raksha did not appear surprised by this, though, instead lifting her head to eye level and doing her best not to seem saddened by this. She kept up the eye contact as she turned away from the hall, from Arwen, from the nervous guards. She walked slowly away, and the two elves that hurriedly pressed themselves against the wall of the building that lined the road could hear a faint, wavering rumble coming from her chest, as though she was crying inside.

Arwen looked anxiously after Raksha, then made a hasty decision. She glared angrily at the guards as she walked into the large hall. Food was set out on the tables, and she hurried to get two plates of food. Most of the available options were vegetable based, so for the first dish she picked the only meat dish she could find: a small, bantam chicken that had been stewed in vegetable broth. For herself, dandelion salad.

She dashed back out the gates, trying to think of the places that the werewolf would go to. Not the healing houses, they were too small. Not the gardens, they were too happy-feeling for her low mood... the forests. That was where she would go. Arwen would bet that as a cross between a wolf and an elf, she would be able to talk to and understand the trees.

Balancing the two plates, Arwen ran as fast as she could through the city. The forests were made up of ancient pines and cedars, maples and oaks. Generally friendly trees, but there were other dangers that a blind wolf could get herself into. Pitfalls, orcs, or even giant spiders. Worry twisted in her gut as she entered the deepening shadows beneath the spreading boughs.

The soft leaf-fall was hard to track anything over, but moving parallel to the woods edge, she spotted the tell tale signes of an elemental cratuure passing through; several trees had moved slightly out of their way, leaving a streak of dark earth behind. The forest was filled with birdsong, and Arwen felt herself relaxing into the natural pattern of the woods. The trees told her in their creaking voices, that the wolf-elf-girl was resting in a clearing, a quarter mile to her left. Arwen thanked the trees and hurried on her way.

Raksha settled down on the soft moss with a deep groan. She hadn't spoken to the trees in four days, and she missed their wisdom. They sympathised with her, soothing her heartache and reminding her of her life motto.

The past is behind us, and the future will never be. Live for now, because it is the only thing that truly exists.

She was ready to fall asleep, listening to the trees song, when Arwen approached. Raksha could smell the small bird, and it made her gut twist with hunger. It had been many days since she had eaten, what with being chased by orcs, lying unconscious on Elrond's examination table, and then recovering on the blanket. She lifted her head from her paws, staring sightlessly at the pretty girl.

"Hey," Arwen crooned. "You okay?" she crouched down beside Raksha, letting the black creature shift around so that she could lay her head on Arwen's lap while wrapping her tail around to enfold the younger woman. She hummed gently, almost as though she was purring. She nudged Arwen under the chin with her cold nose, and the humming deepened. 'I'm fine', she was saying. Then she sniffed delicately at the little stewed chicken on the dish in Arwen's hand. Arwen held it out for her to eat, and in a snap of sharp teeth, the morsel was gone. Hungry as she was, she couldn't suppress the grimace that contorted her face. She hated cooked food. Arwen giggled at the comical sight, and nibbled on a dandelion leaf. She soon finished her veggies, then stacked their plates and stood to go.

"You should have more to eat before you return to Rivendell. Hunt for a while, then meet me at the pavilion. I'll find a place for you to sleep. And," she added as an afterthought, "you will stay there for the entire night." Then she strode off, back the way she came. Raksha stood with a grunt, then licked at the stitches on her haunches. They itched and pulled, and the wounds beneath were almost healed. She would have to see about removing them.

Before dashing off into the woods to hunt, she said a silent thank you to the near-by trees. Then, with a graceful flick of her tail, she bounded off into the woods. Night had fallen, beneath the cover of the great trees, and she blended in easily. Not even the keen eyed elves could have spotted her in the near pitch-blackness. But she could see clearly, for the small sounds made by little animals were more than enough to paint a silvery mind-map of the area around her.

A herd of deer passed many paces to the east, and she bent her lope towards them. A doe, older and on the last legs of her life, trailed behind as the herd returned to its nesting place. She did not even notice when the long teeth snipped through her spinal cord, right under her skull. Gently lowering her prey to the ground, Raksha waited for the herd to continue obliviously on, then she howled. In her song, she thanked the deer for her life, and expressed the triumph of her hunt. Raksha sang a song, the song of the wolf, but as with everything about her, it was different, more haunting, melodious and expressive of her emotions, even the deep ones that never showed through in anything else she did. Back in Rivendell, the elves that heard the unearthly sound felt tears springing to their eyes.

Raksha ate quickly, finishing the entire deer, bones and all, then returning to Rivendell as fast as she could. The miles past by in a flash, and when she reached the edge of the city, it was a simple matter of jumping onto the roof-tops, leaping over streets, and dropping to the ground right in front of a startled Arwen.

"You've got blood in your fur." She said teasingly, yet there was a note of urgency in her voice. Raksha licked at the thick fur on her neck and chest with a surprisingly blue tongue, then around her mouth. She cocked her head to the side, asking if that was better.

"All clean," Arwen said. "Now follow me." Raksha was curious as to where she would have to spend the night, so followed eagerly, her tail waving. Arwen, whom Raksha now considered to be her friend, led her into a building with ceilings high enough to be comfortable. The scent of elves mixed with the musky scent of books, one of the more comforting scents in her vocabulary. There were confused echoes rebounding down the hall, showing her blurry shapes of rooms hidden behind closed doors. The room where Arwen stopped to knock had a figure standing in it, but the stone walls made it hard to get a good bead on it. Her nose told her that they would be familiar, but not recognisable from her distant past. She waited patiently as the figure slowly approached the door. Arwen was nervous, a faint fear-scent emanating from her. The door opened, then, and Raksha was glad that she had scented the area first.

Elrond stood in the doorway, his appearance somewhat altered. His hair was down, and now that he was facing her, Raksha could see that he did not resemble him at all. His brow was too angled, his mouth too firm. Shame at her earlier actions filled her, and she dropped into a low crouch, lifting her head to sniff under his chin, her tail flicking on the ground. Her ears tipped back along her neck as she said that she was sorry for her earlier actions. Elrond looked mildly surprised, and he chuckled quietly.

"You are forgiven, ShadowSong. Come on in." She stayed at a lower height than him, showing him that he was leader. His rooms, which were just tall enough for comfort, were wide, and each wall was lined with books. A pile of blankets was thrown in one corner, absorbing the sounds that she used to see. Soft materials did not echo well, but could be detected with the nose. Elrond's own bed was on the opposite side of the room, nearer to the door. A bathing chamber echoed coldly and loudly from an arched doorway directly to the left, and a private office space to her right smelled strongly of paper, ink and Elrond. She could be comfortable here, she decided. Her tail waved lazily behind her, and she turned to look back up at Elrond and Arwen.

"I already told him of your eyes. You needn't worry about anything else with him. He will care nicely for you." Raksha believed her. She knew that Elrond, though he might appear grim at times, was a truly kind hearted person. The deep humming started in her chest, and the two elves smiled. Elrond thanked his daughter, then closed the door. He strode to his bed, and grabbed the book that lay spine up there. He marked his page and returned it to his shelf.

"You may make yourself at home. Those blankets are for you if you wish to sleep as a wolf. If you want to be an elf, then I will arrange to have a bed brought to a separate room." He said, his deep voice sounding so serious, yet she knew that he was glad that she was near. Something was troubling him, something from a distant place. He was worried by news from, somewhere… she knew that nothing could be gained by listening, so she cast for any scents that did not belong in this room. At first, nothing, then a trace of pipe weed and moth wings and magic. The traveling wizard, Gandalf. He had been here. She knew that he only ever bore ill news, so that must be what was getting to the Lord of Rivendell.

Instead of retreating to the corner, she placed her head on Elrond's chest, pushing gently.

"Not all bad news is evil." She said to reassure him. He seemed caught unawares by the attempt at comfort.

Raising his hands, he smoothed the fur on the fur on he face, then fisted his hands in her heavy ruff.

"How did you know that it was ill news that bothered me?" he asked her, and she caught a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Gandalf was here." She answered, then freed herself and curled up on the blankets. In the tightly rolled position, the sutures on her back pulled and itched, so she sat back up and licked at them. If they stayed in much longer, they would scar, but she didn't want to take them out without help, for fear of causing further injury.

"We'll take them out in the morning." Elrond told her. He had settled down to bed with his book, and one lamp still burned. Eventually, Elrond fell still and the lamp burned low, but Raksha was not tired. Something would happen, in the near future, and she knew that it would change the face of Middle-Earth.

Review, people! My story is fuelled by reviews, and I really want to hear what you have to say! Besides, what harm can it do?