Note:

Finally the Nazgul! I can't believe they've only just turned up but since this story starts after Frodo has reached Rivendell, we missed all the chase scenes at the beginning.

This section took so loooong to write – it was really frustrating.


There was a stone in Nelwen's boot.

As if the seemingly endless trekking through the unremarkable forests of Ithilien wasn't bad enough, now she had to contend with this sharp, brutal, agonising stab. It dug persistently into the pad of her foot, scraping torturously with each step. She wriggled her foot in her boot, rocking her instep from side-to-side in an attempt to dislodge the stone, maybe move it to somewhere less noticeable. She could still feel it. She stamped the ground as she walked, hoping the extra force would cause the stone to shift. She could still feel it. She lifted her left leg and shook it vigourously, hopping precariously along on her right so as to keep pace with the rangers who snickered at her thrashing. The stone would not budge; she could still feel it.

With a sound that was half wearied sigh, half irritated growl, Nelwen dropped to the floor and started manhandling her boot from her foot. She held her footwear aloft, gave it a firm shake, and watched in dismay as a tiny stone, barely the size of a grain of rice, dropped onto her lap. That was it? How could all that pain be caused by something so tiny?

She tried to pick up the stone so she could scowl at it at close range but it slipped from her fingertips and fell onto the floor, immediately hidden among the dust and leaves. Her quarry lost, she scrunched up her nose and gave her hands a frustrated little shake, as if she could shake away her irritation.

Lost as she was in her private battle against malevolent gravel, she hadn't noticed that, while the other rangers had carried on, Faramir still stood beside her. At first she wondered whether he had stopped to keep an eye on her, suspicious as to what she was up to. But he was smiling fondly, clearly amused by her aggravated grumbling and flailing, and he patiently waited as she wrangled with her boot. She was struck by the notion that he waited out of gentlemanly concern, rather than suspicion, and that pleased her more than she was ready to admit.

She held up her hand, a silent command, and he helped her to her feet.

The pair walked along in relative privacy, the other rangers having walked on ahead, and Nelwen realised she finally had the opportunity to find out just how many of Annamir's stories were, as she'd long suspected, completely fictional. Faramir laughed to hear of the stories that Annamir had told the elf and happily corrected some of the more egregious fabrications. No, Annamir had never dismounted a nazgul and stolen his horse. No, Annamir had never arm-wrestled a cave-troll. Yes, Annamir did get horrifically drunk and sit atop the throne of Gondor in little more than her skivvies. Nelwen was mildly horrified to learn that most of Annamir's stories were true, though frequently exaggerated, and she once again found herself marvelling at how she'd come to be friends with someone with such questionable decision-making skills.

Suddenly, Nel felt an unexpected tug around her neck. The chain she wore began to feel hot against her skin and the Ring that hung upon it suddenly felt heavier. For many months she'd heard the Ring whispering, felt its fingers pushing their way inside her head, scraping along the inside of her skull. But never had she felt it weigh more; never had she felt a physical burden. Panicked by the unwelcome and inexplicable change, Nelwen tried to catch sight of Annamir ahead. She needed to tell someone what was happening, needed someone to offer her comfort.

"What's wrong?" asked Faramir, concerned by her sudden silence and growing pallor.

Nelwen didn't have the opportunity to reply when a shriek, shrill and piercing and raw, punctuated the air. Never had Nelwen heard something so terrible, so gut-wrenchingly sad, and her whole body convulsed as the sound rippled through her. Even with her hands clapped tightly upon her ears, the sound was not lessened, seemingly emanating from somewhere within her and forcing its way outward.

Dimly she was aware of rangers running about her, yelling and diving for cover. Smeagol wailed and perhaps Annamir called her name, but she just stood immobile. Standing locked in place, Nelwen felt intolerably, heart-wrenchingly, incomprehensibly sad. So gripped with despair was she at the utter futility of her quest, that she felt the overwhelming urge to just sit down upon the floor and wait for the end to claim her.

From above the tall and trembling trees, Nelwen spotted a colossal black form sweeping towards her. At the back of her mind there was a tiny, tremulous thought that she should perhaps run, seek cover with the humans, but instead she stayed and watched the creature approach with wearied acceptance.

A surging pain in her abdomen and across her back brought her out of her trance and Nelwen noticed belatedly that Annamir had tackled her to the ground. "Nazgul," whispered Anna urgently, "their eyesight is poor. We must remain hidden."

But Nelwen didn't want to remain hidden; Nelwen wanted to be found. Driven by some peculiar compulsion, she started patting urgently at her tunic, trying desperately to reach the Ring underneath. But Anna was still sprawled on top of her in heavy armour, effectively pinning the slight elf to the ground. "I need to put it on," she mewled desperately, "I need to put the Ring on."

Anna grabbed Nelwen's hands, held on with all her might despite Nelwen's frantic writhing. With a feral snarl, she tried to push Anna away, tried to scramble free of her grasp, but still Anna held firm.

When at last the Nazgul flew into the distance, its shriek muffling to a distant itch, Nelwen's entire body went slack. Anna still clung to her friend, as if scared of what might happen should she let go, and the two women lay slumped together among the undergrowth. At last, Annamir stood, offering her hand and helping Nelwen upright. Nelwen mumbled an apology and then smoothed Anna's hair in her characteristically fastidious manner.

"What the fuck was that about?" came an angry voice from behind her and Nelwen turned to see Steve the ranger pointing a shuddering finger at her. She wasn't certain whether it was fear or anger that gripped him but she immediately knew that she was in trouble.

"What's wrong?" asked Annamir, subtly shifting to place herself between Nelwen and the growing cadre of twitchy-looking rangers.

"A Nazgul arrives and she suddenly starts freaking out! First standing around like an idiot and then thrashing about the ground like she's a demon!"

"She's never encountered a Nazgul before – surely you remember the fear that gripped you when you first encountered the wraiths."

"Nah, nah," started a different ranger, shaking his head emphatically. "What she did wasn't normal. She's been acting shifty since she arrived. Keeping secrets about why she's here. Now she's talking gibberish at Nazgul. Elves can't be trusted! What's she hiding?!"

A ranger made to grab Nelwen but Annamir stood in the way, moved her hand to rest on the hilt of her sword in a quiet warning. But then another ranger lunged forward, this time toward Anna. He wrenched one arm behind her back while yet another ranger stamped with brutal force on her foot. With a startled yell, she fell to her knees, stones cutting her skin even through her trousers.

Nel tried to rush forward to help Anna until a vicious kick to her knee sent her sprawling to the floor. A hand wrapped around her windpipe while the other held her by the shoulder, the fingers digging into her collarbone. She probably should have been thinking of an escape plan, thinking of some astounding form of words to persuade the rangers that she wasn't a threat; instead she wondered idly whether the chain burnt his hand the way it burnt her neck.

"Stop this madness," came Faramir's commanding voice above the ruckus. He stood with an arrow notched to his bow and trained on the ranger that held Nel by the neck. Nelwen was relieved to see that as many rangers had weapons trained on each as other as had weapons trained on her and Annamir. It was heartening that some of Annamir's friends were still willing to defend her.

"There are rumours that the elves have found the weapon of the enemy," said Steve, standing in the heart of the fray with beady eyes locked on Nel.

"Isildur's Bane?!" came a number of startled cries, rippling through the rangers' ranks. Nelwen felt immensely uncomfortable, and more than a little bit uneasy, when she realised that all eyes were intensely focused on her. Even those rangers previously friendly to Annamir and herself started to look at her with an unnerving hunger.

"Search her!" shouted Steve and Nelwen blanched with horror when she felt dozens of hands descend upon her, yanking at her cloak and pawing at her coat. She screamed, too startled by the attack to care about whether or not she was drawing unwanted attention this close to Mordor. Anna strained against the grip of the rangers who held her trapped, spitting threats, and Faramir tried to pull his men off of her, shouted at them in a vain effort to restore some semblance of order.

"Don't hurt the Master! Don't hurt the Precious!" cried Smeagol, jumping at the edge of the group and wailing with miserable sobs.

With a sudden, surging strength that she didn't think she possessed – a strength born out of a terrible fear of being parted from her precious burden – Nelwen lashed out, clawing viciously at whomever was closest until she escaped from her assailants' roving hands. The Ring was roaring now, an echoing vibration that churned from her ears to the bridge of her nose. When she turned to glare at the jumbled rabble of rangers, her eyes felt foreign to her face, dark and hooded. She held her body taut and poised, like a viper preparing to strike, and a strange stillness fell upon the rangers, withering under her stare.

"No one touch me!" she seethed with a voice that echoed with a dark timbre, a voice not at all like her own.

The sound shocked her and she fought to rein in her feelings, silence the Ring's goading, and reclaim herself. "You don't understand," she continued, this time without the intensity, a tone of pleading in its stead. "It is an evil thing. It will bring you nothing but death. The Ring must be destroyed."

"The Ring of Power must go to Osgiliath!" replied Steve. "Our need is great. It is our blood that is being spilt, our brothers who are dying." There were hearty murmurs of assent, vigourous nodding from several of the rangers.

"The Ring of Power will not serve Gondor. It only knows betrayal," said Faramir, trying to assert control over his men. Faramir had a voracious appetite for history, had read extensively the lore of this people, and knew that nothing good would come from having the Ring of Power in their possession.

"We will take the Ring to Boromir," suggested one of the rangers. "He will know what is to be done with it." There was universal agreement among the rangers, even among those who had not sided with Steve and his malcontents.

Faramir stood with sagging shoulders and downcast eyes, frustrated at his inability to control his own men. He considered these men his friends as well as his comrades and felt a flush of shame at the thought that they would not obey his commands. But he knew his men were agitated by the influence of the Ring of Power, beguiled with the false hope that possessing the Ring would grant the men of Gondor spectacular victory against the forces of Sauron. He feared that should fighting break out over the Ring in earnest then blood would be spilt.

"Ok. We will take the Ring to Osgiliath," he said with a wearied sigh and an apologetic look directed at Nelwen and Annamir. While his counsel alone had failed to persuade his rangers, perhaps he would have more success with his brother on this side.

Under the watchful stares of the rangers, the two women were led toward Osgiliath. Now drained of whatever strange strength had taken hold of her, Nelwen stumbled, pale and exhausted. Never had she felt the Ring's thrall so strongly, never had she felt its effects so readily take hold of her body. It scared her. Noticing her disquiet, Annamir reached out, took the elf's hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Nelwen felt slightly better.