1Author's Note: Okay so second chapter. I lost all my notes so this chapter took a lot longer than it should have to write. Hopefully I put everything I wanted to in it.

Koryu- No, you forgot something.

Ah! What did I forget?

Koryu- Snore

Useless... . ;

Disclaimer: All characters and places and animals and trees and rocks belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I have no possession other than the movies and one book. Wah! . ;

Chapter Two

Breathe

To many the cool water of the river and the warmth from the sun would have been a blessing. The gentle calls of birds and sounds of the forest would have been like music and the breeze would have been refreshingly welcome. But not to her.

The river's water was freezing and her limbs were numb from trying to bring herself to the surface. It seemed as if she had been struggling for hours but was only a few minutes at most, yet it was enough. She ached yet continued to push herself towards the surface, her lungs screaming out for the air they craved. When she finally broke the surface her sense of safety was short lived as the current tried to pull her back under. She tried to breathe, taking in mouthfuls of the dismaying, frigid water instead of the air she craved.

She kicked, reached for the river's edge and clawed at the water to get there. Her lungs still burned with the need for air while she began to cough through the water. It seemed strange to her that as she fought the water her strength did not drain from her, it seemed to return. Sooner than she expected she was clawing at the dirt and rocks of the river's shore, dragging herself onto it and out of the water.

She coughed hard, expelling the water she had swallowed and breathed in the harsh air she had yearned for in the river. The air she thought would have soothed her burning lungs only singed them and she continued to cough until her throat felt raw. Her hands and knees were scratched from the rough edges if the rocks she had dragged herself over when leaving the river. The pain was terrible, it pounded through her stiff body as if the rocks she had drug herself over had come to life and were bludgeoning her.

Overhead the sun was beating down on her, warming her skin to an unbearable temperature while the shrill sounding birds laughed at her from the trees. The trees shook their limbs angrily through the raging breeze and she shuddered at the thought of them attacking her. The very idea of it brought memories raging through the subconscious of her mind into a piercing light that she shielded her eyes from. The clang of metal against metal, dying cries of men, orcs and of elves, the sight of Sauron falling after Isildur cut the Ring from his very hand all rushed back to her with such force that she screamed out against the burying weight of it all.

She panted, the air was no longer oppressing and the sun was a gentle warm that soothed her skin rather than singed. The scratched on her palms and knees were a faint memory as she listened to the songs of the birds. The colors of the forest were vibrant green and rich brown, the river, she saw as she raised up onto her elbows, looked gentle and was a clear blue that reflected her own eyes.

She moved around until her joints were no longer stiff and she felt sure enough on her feet to stand with her hands hanging loosely at her sides. She looked down at her reflection in the water and leaned her head to one side. The reflection was as it had always been, trapped somewhere between an elf and an orc. She hated the mud color of her hair and the slim, curved shape of her body.

Her figure was not suitable for an orc, and her ears were long, smooth, and pointed. Not rough or even torn as her companions had been. She had pierced them in an attempt to be more like them and the scars scattered about her body helped to ruin the smooth skin she had been cursed with. She had no missing teeth and only her upper and lower canines were pointed. She had to fight her way through the ranks of orcs in order to be accepted by them and only when Lord Sauron had given her the order to guard him had the other orcs finally come to respect her.

She had failed her Lord. She was forced away from him in battle, fighting against the elves to keep them from him as he attacked the human king and slaughtered him. She had never dreamed that the son of the King, a mere human, would defeat her Lord.

Her eyes darted towards the forest as a familiar scent hit her. No, there were two distinct scents, orcs and men. She turned her back on the river and waited for them to come to her, listening as the quick, uneven steps came towards her. Shouts became audible through the dense trees and she snorted, orcs were running from men?

Cowards, she thought as the orcs came running through the trees. The ones closest to her stopped to stare for a moment before they tried to run. She had no patience for cowards, especially those who ran from men. She moved quickly, grabbing one by the back of the neck as he ran and grabbed his chin with her free hand, sliding her other to the back of his head she twisted the head in her hands and broke his neck.

She picked up his broken sword as one slid to a stop and looked back, having heard the neck snap. She ran past him, holding the broken sword in her left hand and swinging it so it cut off his head as she passed. She grabbed his sword with her right hand and continued forwards towards the last three. One turned on her unexpectedly and she dodged low and to the right, coming back up once she was behind him to bury one blade deep into his side and stab the other into his thick neck. Sensing another behind her she pulled both blades out in one swift movement and turned slightly, kicking the orc in the chest to knock him away from her.

She threw one of the two swords after him, spearing him in the center of his face. The last orc continued to run rather than stop to fight her and she threw the second blade at him. Even at a distance of more than thirty feet the sword stuck in his back and ruptured his heart. She watched him fall and then began walking back towards the first she had killed.

Then men came through the forest then, three of them all on horseback. She rose an eyebrow in surprise that they had been able to ride through the dense forest but chose not to comment as they slowly rode towards her, looking from one dead orc to the next.

"You there, what were you doing all the way out here?" one asked, pulling back on the reins to stop his horse when the three men were close enough. They eyed her suspiciously and dismounted.

"Isn't it obvious? I was killing people." She pointed down to one of the orcs she had killed.

"People? Don't you mean orcs?" one of them asked. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands into fists.

"Allow me to demonstrate."

LOTR

Two weeks had passed since Eomer had left Minas Tirith. He had received word that the men he had placed in the forest to hunt down stray orcs had been slaughtered. He had stationed himself, along with fifty men he had handpicked, in the forest to find and kill those who had done so to his men.

He had arrived a week ago, and every time he sent his men out fewer and fewer returned. Now he was down to ten men, including himself, and his men were all thinking the same thing he was, they would have to beat the enemy soon, or retreat and gather reinforcements.

Eomer sat near the back of his tent, leaning over a letter that he was writing to request more men. By his side there were more crumpled letters than he'd like to admit, most were tossed away because the hand writing was too atrocious to read. Eomer couldn't seem to hold his hand steady enough to write a legible sentence. Yet it was not fear that made his shake, it was anger.

His thoughts still dwelt on what his sister had told him, and Legolas's confirmation. He growled and crumpled the letter he had been writing as he thought about it. Heartless and Cold? Eowyn had never been heartless or cold. The elf was definitely out of line, in fact, Legolas should have sailed to the undying lands with the rest of the elves, so why had he stayed?

Perhaps he was jealous of Eowyn's happiness? He frowned deeply as he contemplated the idea. Legolas had never shown any interest in women, ignoring the girls who flirted with him or complemented his skills. Once, during a feast, a woman who had probably drank too much ale approached him at the table and admitted to his face that she fancied him. Eomer snorted, she had been a pretty woman yet the elf had excused himself and not said another word about it.

Well, at least he had been there to tend to the poor heart broken lass. Then again, he was normally around to pick up the girls that Legolas refused. Eomer felt his face turn red with envy and he pushed his chair back from the desk to walk out into the open air.

He was thankful for the cool breeze, and watched the men talk in hushed voices around the small fire for a while before he began to consider asking if he might join them. As it turned out one of his men caught sight of him and waved him over. He walked over and took a seat next to a gloomy looking man who sat with the forest at his back.

Eomer listened to the men speak of what they thought the enemy might be, a monster of some sort, a hundred orcs that were stealthy enough to remain hidden at all times, even a beast of unknown origins. Eomer felt a smile play on his lips when one of the men stood and described a beast his father had told him of.

"It was larger than a troll, with scales so tough that no weapon could pierce through. And the head of a beast with a snout like a dragons!" he described. A few of the others laughed and beckoned him to sit back down, earning a reproachful glare from the man. "Are you calling my father a liar then?" he asked. His face was turning red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"Sit down, no one is calling anyone a liar. Though I must admit that your beast is one I would not enjoy facing." Eomer motioned for the man to sit down, he looked at him for a brief moment then the color drained out of his face and he sat back down.

"What do you think is out there?" he asked. Eomer shrugged slightly, taking a bowl of stew that another offered him.

"To be truthful I don't know. Whatever it is though, I can't wait to see it dead. Be it beast or monster." The conversation ended there for the most part. His men silently agreeing with him. Eomer found that his stomach could not handle much of the stew and so he let it sit on the ground next to him. He was not in the right mood for eating, apparently the other men felt the same. No one had managed to finish a plate of food since the killings had started.

No one could rest easy either, thinking that they may be the next to disappear in the forest. Eomer let a tremble run through him as he envisioned what could be out in the forest. Whatever it was killed quickly and silently, and the worst of it was that whatever it was, left no bodies behind.

The men slowly left the fire one by one, a few of them changed places with the lookouts and others went to their tents for a restless night of sleep. Eomer retired sooner than the gloomy looking man beside him, thinking that he might try to sleep a while.

Eomer snuffed out the candles in his tent and climbed into bed. He stared out into the darkness and wondered why not even the light of the fire seemed to filter through the side of the tent. He reached out and took hold of his sword, feeling uneasy as he lay in the darkness.

He had never slept grasping the hilt of a sword before but the unease that settled around the camp made him feel as though it would be safer to keep the sword as close as possible. Eomer laid in his bed for a long while just mulling things over before his tired body caught up with his mind and he began to slip into unconsciousness.

Thought it was a troubled sleep, in his dream he could hear the crackle of the fire nearly drown out a surprised gasp from a man. Soon after he felt a presence close to him that made him shudder in the darkness. He could feel the sword in his hand but that brought no comfort, only the thought that he would wake and be free from the strange presence could comfort him in the stifling darkness.

The presence weighed upon his mind and forced him into recognition that he had been unwilling to voice for the past days. No orc or beast he knew could move so quietly. He had only ever seen one person who could do it, one person who had that sort of skill.

Eomer's eyes snapped open when he felt a cold blade press against his throat, he could barely make out a shape in the darkness but the eerie presence from his dream lingered in the room still. The shape stood over him, watching him in the darkness that he could not see through, this tall looking slim figure pressed the blade against his throat and he hissed his most secret fear, for only an elf could kill so easily.

"Legolas," Eomer hissed. The figure withdrew suddenly and he sat up to follow after. He forgot his sword as he threw himself into the darkness, tackling the figure and wrestling it to the ground. He felt a blade dig into his arm and threw a blind punch to retaliate, his punch landed but didn't seem to faze the figure as they struggled in the dirt floor of his tent.

He groped around blindly feeling for an arm or wrist to take the blade the figure was cutting him with, he succeeded finally, catching the attacker's wrist and beating it down against the ground until they released the dagger. Eomer winced as a hand wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze, he punched again, grazing the side of their face. He leaned back and released the attacker's wrist to try to pull the hand away from his neck while he reached out to try and find theirs.

Eomer blinked as his hand closed over a soft mound of flesh and the attacker suddenly dug it's nails into his neck. His free hand squeezed the wrist of the hand around his neck while the attacker tried to force his other hand away from whatever it was he had managed to grab hold of.

A sudden light caused Eomer to squeeze his eye's shut tightly and the attacker cursed out loud. He waited a moment before opening his eyes and looking out towards the front of his tent where his men stood, armed and ready for battle. Yet they all looked perplexed and stood in the door way as if they were glued to the spot. Eomer looked down and felt his ears grow warm.

Below him, still trying to claw his throat out, was a woman. He reeled back releasing her as she did he and he stared at her. Dark brown hair and fierce looking blue eyes. Her ears were long, pointed, and pierced with metal cuffs. His eyes traveled lower and he noted that she seemed to be wearing men's clothing, black pants and a red tunic, with a black belt around her waist and a small sheath for the dagger laying a few feet away. She was glaring at him with a look that could have made him shudder if he was not processing what it was he had been holding onto.

"You pig," she hissed at him, her face flushed red and she turned to grab the dagger, only to face several very long, sharp swords. She looked back at him, still glaring as if she expected an apology.

"Who sent you?" Eomer asked, rubbing his neck. He couldn't take his eyes off her as he tried to remember why it was she seemed a little familiar to him.

"Nobody sent me," she snapped back at him. She eyed the men around her and shifted her weight so she was leaning away from them.

"Why did you sneak in here and attack me?"

"I've been attacking you for days now, are you just now wondering why?"

"You?" Eomer couldn't seem to believe her. How could a girl have killed so many of his men?

"You are the leader of this group, yes? Surly you have heard of Isildur's death by now. Tell me, is there any news of the Ring, or aren't you important enough to know of these things?" she asked. It was Eomer's turn to glare, he wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

"Everyone knows the story of Isildur's death. And there had been no news of the Ring since Frodo destroyed it-" He was abruptly cut off as she grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him close to her. Eomer held his breath, his face mere inches from her's.

"Destroyed? When? What of Lord Sauron?" she asked, her eyes were wide with surprise. He shoved her away and two of his men took hold of her arms, forcing them behind her back to restrain her.

"Yes destroyed, along with Sauron." He watched as she seemed to try to swallow everything he had said. Quite some time had passed since Sauron's fall, how was it that she had not known? He thought for a moment it looked as if she were about to cry and then she suddenly pulled against the men holding onto her.

"I don't believe you! Isildur lost the Ring when we killed him! We searched for hours and were unable to find it! If it weren't for those Elves then we would have-" Eomer couldn't believe what she was saying. If she spoke the truth then she was part of the group that had ambushed Isildur, but that was years ago.

She would have to be an elf. Eomer nearly grinned when his memory can rushing back to him. Legolas had spoken of a girl with brown hair and blue eyes, whose ears were longer than an orcs and had a fierceness about her. He had known her when he was young, and Legolas was very old, though he did not know how old exactly. So this girl could be the girl Legolas spoke of, and if so that meant he had been involved with the orcs who killed Aragorn's ancestor. He wondered how Aragorn would feel when he brought this to his attention.

Eomer had stood by the time he decided to return to Minas Tirith. The girl was still speaking, she seemed outraged by the idea that Sauron had been defeated. He smirked and backhanded her across the face, silencing her at once.

"I've heard enough. Tie her hands and shut her mouth, we'll be heading to Minas Tirith in the morning."