Loki gripped Aeglos tight. Six black-clad riders were galloping up the hill at them. The noise on the rocks was thunderous. Frigga was to his right. Thranduil, who had switched to his sword, and Gandalf were to his left. He spared a half-glance up at the sky. Storm clouds were forming, darkening all of Dimrill Dale. The three riders in the air were astride huge dragon-like beasts. They made a wide circle around Thor, who hovered, waiting for them to strike.

The six riders stopped about thirty feet before them. The horses reared, neighing in a shrieking manner. Loki tried to slow the surge of adrenaline, knowing it would need to last. The animals had been warped in mind and body. Their eyes were red, and blood dripped from wounds on their faces and legs.

One of the riders urged his horse slightly before the others. Now that they were close, Loki saw that they were not physical men at all. Their hooded cloaks and sharp gauntlets hid bodies that were not in this world. Their faces were not simply in shadow - they were not there at all. Wraiths, Loki knew them as. He had seen creatures of similar make in the borders between realms and dimensions, during travels he had not spoken of to anyone.

The Nazgûls' dark magic radiated out, almost choking him with its foulness. A lesser being would be paralyzed by fear, and Loki knew that was their best weapon. The air turned cold at their arrival. Loki could see the air on his breath, and even he could feel coldness stabbing through his skin. It was a fear designed to bend men to their will.

'Lay down your arms,' the main rider hissed. The voice was not carried on the air, and all who heard it felt it in their minds, like a slithering eel. 'We require the one called Loki, and the hammer.' At the sound of his name, Loki felt that now familiar iron grip on his heart. He was about to yell back when Thranduil did it for him.

'If you want them, you will have to kill the rest of us.'

The riders drew their swords, and charged. The defensive line could not stand firm, and Loki was flanked on both sides. He ducked their swords as they rode past easily enough, and glanced at Thranduil by his side, who had done the same.

'Forgive this violation,' he cried, and shifted his form into that of Thranduil. The King blinked at him, but before he could respond, the riders had turned and were about to charge again. Loki ran to the side, and left two doubles behind him, five feet between them, making their defensive line a little more challenging. The riders hesitated, the illusion no doubt unfamiliar.

Frigga used their distraction to summon up her own powers, creating fog from the water in the stream, obscuring everything around them. Loki almost yelled at her to stop - she did not know that they had no need of vision. He could not give away his true self, however.

The air was thick with fog, and now Loki saw his mother's true intention. Some of the fog swirled so thick it coalesced into the dark shape of a seventh rider. It charged at Loki, the horse's hooves pounding just as loudly as a real one. He ducked, spun, and ducked again, though the rider had made no real attempt to slice him. It disappeared into the fog towards the others. Loki heard the sound of horses and steel clashing, and hisses of anger and confusion.

Every once in a while, the fog would flicker as thunderbolts lit up the sky, and Loki's eardrums threatened to burst from the sound.

The fog was so thick, Loki could barely glimpse his own doubles. A sword sang out to his left, and he heard Thranduil grunt.

As quickly as Frigga had conjured the fog, it dissipated. It had been imbued with magic, for it had confused even the sightless riders. One was off his mount, dueling fiercely with King Thranduil. Gandalf was between two, both still on their horses, facing him head on. He raised his staff high, the light blinding. They charged, but Loki had to look away to avoid burning his eyes.

Where was his mother? The illusion had most likely taken a lot out of her, being created without any study of its subject. She would be relying on them to finish the fight, but luckily the Nazgûl had no idea how much it might have drained her.

Before Loki could find her, he had to instruct his doubles to duck as a rider charged them. It swung a massive spiked mace. The second double was not quick enough, and the mace nicked its shoulder, vanishing it in a puff of smoke. Loki raised Aeglos, knowing the sword might give him away, and sidestepped just before the rider was upon him, slashing the horse's opposite flank. It reared up with a cry of pain, and Loki struck it again on its hind legs, sending it crashing to the ground.

The Nazgûls' darkness was not only a weapon, but a weakness, Loki realised as he felt the cold creep upon him from behind, announcing the wraith's presence. He spun, parrying the oncoming blow from a standing Nazgûl just in time, their swords grinding together. The Nazgûl was an empty hood, but Loki could have sworn it sneered at him.

The rider whose horse he had taken down was on its feet, so Loki sent his last double to meet it. He continued dueling while controlling his double, but fighting against sword and mace at the same time was almost impossible. After a few blows, the double crumbled.

As the rider's mace flew through the double and hit bare rock, the crash it made caught the attention of Loki's opponent. By chance, Loki was just about to strike, and he shifted Aeglos' trajectory, feeling the sword come alive in his hands, and struck at the head instead of the body. The rider's momentary lapse was gone in less than half a second, and Loki could feel it grin at the knowledge that Loki must be the true prize they sought. By that time, however, Aeglos was already connecting with its head.

Loki knew a sword would most likely not hurt a wraith creature, but it had been instinct to go for the kill. As Aeglos cut through the hood of the rider, however, it connected to something solid. Loki almost let the sword slip from his hands in shock. The wraith screeched in pain, falling to its knees. Loki pulled the sword hard from its head, and spun to the side. The other rider's mace came down where he had stood, and instead crushed the wounded Nazgûl, crumpling it completely, leaving only a torn cloak.

Before the mace had even hit the ground, Loki was slashing downwards, cutting the Nazgûl's head off. Although it did not roll away like a mortal man's head, Loki could still feel his sword cutting through a neck. The black cloak fell away as though blown by the wind, and the mace rusted and crumbled in mere seconds.

Pure curiosity made Loki raise Aeglos to his ear. He listened to the sword, and now he understood what a great gift this truly was, and why Lord Elrond had been so offended. The swords of the Elves were not mere tools. Their magic was forged within it. This was why the sword could strike at enemies in the wraith world.

He doubted, however, that the Elves had the power to destroy these creatures. They might still be alive, though their connection to the mortal realm was severed. If so they would have to crawl back to their master to seek new forms.

A cry made him take in his surroundings. It was Frigga. She was dueling a wraith far away on the other side of the stream. She must have been driven there by its relentless hacking at her. Loki ran, but he would be too late.

She was not an expert swordswoman, but she was holding her own, even weakened. The Nazgûl hit too hard, and her duck made it overstep, allowing her to strike at it freely. She aimed for its neck, just as Loki had done a moment ago.

'No,' Loki thought, but he had not the time to scream it. Her sword was of Asgard make, and no smith in the Nine Realms could make a sword that could strike a wraith.

Her sword only hit the Nazgûl's hood, flattening it momentarily and making it seem for a fraction of a second that it had lost its head. But when Frigga's sword passed beyond, it reshaped itself.

Now it was Frigga who had overstepped. She was too close - the Nazgûl stabbed her deep in the gut. Loki's legs were still carrying him towards her, but his mind was frozen as her mouth opened in a scream.

The Nazgûl leaned close and breathed its poisonous breath into her open mouth, paling her face. It pulled its sword from her body, and she fell to her knees, her hands covering the wound. She looked up in resignation as it raised its sword to bring down the deathblow.

Loki was upon them now, and he cut the creature from behind, his slash so swift and sharp he sliced the whole cloak in two. Aeglos vibrated in his hands, as though excited from the bloodshed. The pieces of fabric were thrown to the wind, and the creature's sword tumbled into dust.

At the same moment, an answering cry of pain came from above. Even as Loki fell to his knees, taking his mother in his arms, he heard a loud thud. He knew the sound, and both he and Frigga looked towards it. Mjølnir had fallen to the ground. It lay alone, as though it was a harmless tool dropped by accident.

One of the Nazgûls battling Gandalf was closest, and it leaped towards it, grabbing the handle. Of course it would not be lifted, and the Nazgûl hissed in annoyance. It cried out in a dark language.

The two remaining Nazgûls on the ground whistled, and their horses seemed to come out of nowhere. Thranduil shot arrows after them, but they mounted as the horses ran past, and were halfway down the hill in seconds.

Loki looked down at his mother. Her eyes were glassy, and there was blood in her mouth. She would not meet his eyes.

'Thor,' she whispered. Loki looked up and saw the three beasts flying away, one of them with Thor in its talons. He was unconscious, or else he would have been screaming and cursing.

Feeling as though the world was ending, Loki looked down at his mother again. The riders were gone, but it was they who had been defeated.

'Mother,' he tried, the words sticking in his throat. He looked down at her hands. They were covered in blood. Her skin had a strange, pale bluish sheen to it - wraith poison. 'I do not know how to heal a wound like this,' he said.

'The Eldar do.' Thranduil knelt at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were wide and earnest, stopping Loki's panic from bubbling over. 'We must get her to Lothlórien. I will stop the bleeding as best I can. You and Gandalf go into the forest and make a stretcher so we may carry her quickly. Go. Now.'

Loki gently lowered his mother to the ground. Her eyes met his, and she managed to nod. He returned it, and hurried down the hill with Gandalf. He used his sword to hack down branches. Gandalf had thought ahead and brought one of their sleeping mats. Loki managed to control his magic enough to make rope from the bark, twisting it together.

By the time they returned with a rudimentary stretcher, Thranduil had finished whatever magic he had wrought. Frigga was still pale, but her midriff was wrapped with parts of Thranduil's cloak.

It wasn't until after they had gently lifted her onto the stretcher that Loki remembered Mjølnir. The hammer was exactly where it had fallen.

'What do we do?' he asked Frigga.

'We have to leave it,' she said, voice weak.

'I swear I will bring him back,' Loki heard himself say. 'Thor will lift Mjølnir again.'

She smiled, tears falling, and closed her eyes. Loki didn't know how to interpret that. They shouldered their packs, leaving behind what they could not carry. Thranduil took the front of the stretcher, while Loki lifted the end, so he could look down on her as they walked. Gandalf led the way.

They hurried down Dimrill Dale, through the forest and wild fields beyond, finding paths to follow, made by animals Loki thought. He walked ceaselessly, eyes on his feet or his mother, his mind blank.

Gandalf made them stop by a river. After Frigga was lowered gently to the ground, Loki sat beside her. She was asleep.

'Here, drink.' He looked up to find Thranduil. In his hands was a cup of water. 'It is water from the Nimrodel, it will help you.'

'Her first.'

Thranduil obeyed and woke Frigga to help her drink. She thanked him, and Loki liked to believe there was some improvement. Thranduil fetched more and Loki drank, feeling the water revive him. Its healing power flowed through him, waking his mind.

'Thank you.'

Thranduil knelt beside him. Frigga had fallen asleep again.'She will be saved,' Thranduil promised. Loki nodded. He glanced at his empty cup, wondering at the incredible power of the water. 'The river is named for a beautiful Silvan Elf.'

'The healing is powerful. She must have been very special.'

'She was lonely, I think,' Thranduil said. 'She did not like other Eldar coming into Lórien.'

'Your people are very divided.' Thranduil did not answer, and instead fetched more water. When this was divided between them, he finally spoke.

'When my kind first awoke at our place of creation, we were after a time found by Oromë, a powerful being, one we consider a god. He led many of our people westward towards the land of the gods. But some of us left the group along the way, for we had no desire to see the light of that land, preferring the light of the stars.'

Loki listened to Thranduil's soothing voice, the meaning of his words barely reaching him. The story comforted him nonetheless. He decided he would ask Thranduil to tell it to his mother when she awoke. He spoke, not realising his question had already been answered.

'You and your people are one of these unwilling?'

'Yes. I have a great fondness for the night. The stars, the cold. It is fresh and pure.'

'And the Elves of Lórien?'

'Some of Lady Galadriel's people live there, but many are of those left behind, though that does not mean we are the same. The sundering of the Eldar took place over many stages, and created several unique groups.'

'But they will help us?'

'Yes, they will. The House of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn would never refuse help to those who ask for it.'

Loki thought Frigga was becoming paler again. He wanted to start walking, but Gandalf said they needed a few more minutes rest, so they could reach Lothlórien without collapsing.

'What were those creatures?' Loki asked. 'Their nature was wraith-like, not of this realm.'

'The Nine,' Thranduil said, his eyes darkening. 'They were once men, seduced by Sauron.'

'How can men become that?' The idea implied immense power and an evil that knew no bounds. To take mortal men and make them beings of pure terror - what could do that? The Shadow came to Loki's mind, and he shivered physically as he heard the whisper of his name again in his mind.

'Loki, here, drink a little more before we go.' Thranduil brought the cup to his lips and Loki drank it all greedily.

'Thank you.'

They set off again, and the healing gift of the Nimrodel kept the Shadow at bay. When they crossed her further down, Loki knew they were being watched. It was not a sinister presence, but cautious and alert. He decided to keep his head down to appear the least threatening. They entered a different forest on a small path. The undergrowth was not dense, nor the trees very thick, and yet Loki could not see their watchers. With every step further into the forest, the shadows in Loki's mind retreated, and all his thoughts were now on Frigga.

Gandalf stopped as they reached the top of a small hill. There were less trees here, and so they could see the surrounding area. The light from the sun bounced off the tree tops, making them golden. Here they lowered Frigga to the ground, and waited.

The Elves were almost at the top of the hill before Loki spotted them. They were ten in number, all in grey cloaks, and all but one was armed with bows at the ready. As they approached, the leader held up in hands and the bows were lowered. He had long golden hair, dark eyes and seemed less afraid than the others. He walked ahead, bowing before Gandalf and Thranduil. He said something in an Elvish tongue Loki had not yet heard.

Thranduil answered in the same language, his voice soft and gracious, before turning to indicate Loki and Frigga. The elf stepped forward, and Loki rose to his full height, showing no one would go near her before words he could understand were spoken.

'Allow me to introduce Prince Loki of Asgard and his mother, Queen Frigga,' Gandalf said quickly. 'This is Haldir, of the Galadhrim. He has agreed to help us.'

Loki bowed his head to Haldir stiffly, and the elf returned it with a kind smile. He slowly knelt by Frigga, who managed to open her eyes. Haldir gently put his hand on her stomach.

'You have been poisoned by a Ringwraith,' he said. 'King Thranduil's power and that of the Nimrodel has dammed its flow, but I can not promise we will be able to heal you completely. The Lady Galadriel is not at home, and all of Lórien is diminished without her light.'

'I understand,' Frigga answered.

'My guards will carry you to Caras Galadhon. You will be safe there.' Haldir rose and called to the others. Loki stepped aside and let them carry her. The path through the forest was single-file, so Loki had to walk behind, catching glimpses of her at every turn. He did not notice the trees growing taller and thicker, or the the light from the sun diminishing due to the shade from the canopy. He did not even realise they had entered the city until he heard a word of welcome that made him look up.

The trees had grown enormous, and in the space where the trees divided into branches there were built large platform dwellings. They were beautiful, mimicking the flow of branch and leaf in every detail. There were constructions on the ground as well, Loki saw, and they were built into the trunks and under roots thicker than normal trees themselves. The sun cast sharp rays through the holes in the canopy, illuminating the city as though by torches.

The Elves of Lórien were beautiful, though not quite as tall as Thranduil's people. They were of several different colourings, though most were golden-haired like Haldir. They wore white and grey clothes. A calmness lay over the entire city, a dream-like carelessness Loki did not find comforting. Of the Elves here, only Haldir appeared solid to him, and it was only he who spoke to them in the common tongue.

Queen Frigga was carried into one of the dwellings on the forest floor. She was lifted onto a bed, and several Elves surrounded her and spoke in hurried tones.

'Come outside,' Thranduil said, taking hold of Loki's elbow. 'Let them work.' Loki allowed himself to be led outside. The grass was soft, and he almost wanted to lay down where he stood and sleep for a century, but at the same time the idea that he should want that sickened him. Thranduil must have seen these conflicting emotions in his face. 'Is there something else that troubles you?'

Loki looked around them, but Gandalf had gone off somewhere. He felt very vulnerable, and did not like that either. In fact, the beauty of this place was a distraction, and he decided it was deceitful. 'Loki,' Thranduil called to him softly, as though the King was afraid to disturb the peace in Lórien. Was he affected by this place?

'I wish to leave,' Loki said. 'I feel ill.'

'Lothlórien is a place for healing,' Thranduil said. 'I am no great friend of the Lady Galadriel, but her home is peaceful. I know your mind is on Prince Thor, and your mother, but you must allow yourself to rest. You can not fight for them if you are exhausted.'

'It is not rest I require, and I could not get it here if it was.' Loki's gaze flitted this way and that, suspicious of the smallest movement. Thranduil was frowning at him.

'You are ill. Did the Ringwraiths breathe their stench on you?'

'No, I am fine. It is this place.' Loki glanced behind him at the door, beyond which lay Frigga. What if she was dying? Loki had to be by her side.

'Loki,' Thranduil spoke firmly, placing both hands on Loki's shoulders. 'Look at me. You are distraught, and perhaps the magic of this place does strange things to you. Try and ignore it.' Loki nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Thranduil was right, he was letting the magic affect him.

Haldir suddenly emerged from the healing house.

'Prince Loki,' he said. 'Your mother will recover.' Loki sucked in a breath, closing his eyes in relief. 'But,' Haldir warned. 'It may take a long time. The poison was almost at her heart. Our healers are drawing it out of her, but I fear she will not be completely healed until the Lady Galadriel returns.'

'Do you know when she will arrive?'

'No, I am afraid not. We received word that she and Lord Celeborn have left Imladris, but if the White Wizard truly has betrayed us, they may need to turn around.'

'But she will live, until then?'

'We will keep the poison from her heart,' Haldir promised. Loki let out a breath, thanking Haldir profusely. 'Would you like to see her? She is still awake.'

Loki followed Haldir into the healing house, and found his mother propped up in bed, soft pillows and blankets cocooning her. She was wearing one of their white robes. She lifted her hand when she saw Loki, and he rushed to take it.

'Loki,' she said. 'It was not your fault.'

'Everything so far has been.'

'They were too many, and Thor was weak already.'

'From fighting a monster I awoke.' It was he who was the monster, he wanted to say. Perhaps that was why the magic of Lórien distrusted him so.

Frigga shook her head. 'No, it was awoken by Saruman and his master, just as the Nazgûl were sent by him.'

'Sent to take me.'

'They are evil, and want your power. That is not your fault.'

'I am here, and you followed me. That is my fault.'

'No.' Frigga was growing tired. The Elves watching her did not understand their conversation, but they were worried for their patient. Loki barely knew they were in the room.

'Yes, it is my fault,' Loki confessed. He could not stop himself. 'I let go.'

Frigga's brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out his meaning.

'I let go.' Loki stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. 'I-' Confessing was pointless. She blamed him, even if she would not say it. He turned and fled from her side, running past Haldir by the door and Thranduil just outside. He did not know where he was going, and blindly followed the little pebbled path that wound round the trees and little streams and ponds.

It was not until he was completely alone that he stopped and looked around. There were no dwellings near him, but the trees were still great towers, so he was still within the city. A strange wind blew from behind him and he turned, wondering how any wind could blow when the trees created such a dome of leaves.

A spectre appeared, in the shape of Lady Galadriel. Loki could not guess whether she was the real Lady, sent through some magic, or if it was a figment of his mind and the magic in the air. She was pointing, he realised, and followed the direction of her hand. Down stone steps was a round courtyard of ancient stones, and in the middle was a low pillar with a silver basin set in it.

Loki knew at once what type of water the basin contained. He could feel the magic as he descended into the circle. He was suspicious immediately.

The Norns used a similar technique when making their predictions and judgements. Loki had no desire to look into the future or past. He wished Thranduil was here to tell him why the Lady of Lórien would lead him here.

Despite all this, he was drawn to the basin. It sang to him, mournfully, as though in sympathy. Perhaps it would tell him how to make amends for all the wrongs he had accomplished. Or, perhaps it would show him how it had come to pass that he had become the very thing he had been taught so long to hate. Would the water freeze if he touched it? He was beginning to think it was his Jotun nature the forest objected to.

He stood before the watery mirror and gazed into it, falling into its magic, letting it show him whatever it wanted to.

At first, all was fire. Forests and cities burned, places he had not yet seen, and some he had. There was Thranduil, being overcome by Orcs, slain without fanfare, left for dead in a mountain of bodies. There were too many dead for the evil creatures to eat before they rotted. Loki grimaced at the sight, but held on.

Sauron appeared, a beacon of light in the shape of a lidless eye. At first Loki thought it was surveying the destruction with an approving stare, but suddenly he realised the eye was gazing at him. It saw him. He was connected even here, in these peaceful realms.

'I see you, Loki,' it said. 'In my service your powers would be unconquerable.'

'I will never serve anyone.'

A vision appeared between them of Thor being bound to a rack, tortured and brutalized. He did not scream, but Loki did.

'He is of no use to you!'

'His corrupted soul will be.'

'I can not give you the hammer. None but Thor can wield it. But I will give you me.' The Eye seemed to consider - as if this was not exactly what it had planned.

'Come to me, and I will let him go.' Fire swirled the image away, and Loki almost cried out for him to stay so he might see Thor one more time. Another image was forming, however, one of beautiful hills and small farms. Houses were dug into the earth, with little round doors. The creatures that lived there were short, fat little people, without a care in the world.

There was a ring of fire around it, but the image itself was peaceful. A sunny day - in Hobbiton, he read on a signpost.

Frowning, Loki almost withdrew, thinking the magic had truly gone mad, when he appeared in the middle of the image. He was grinning, holding something aloft in victory. It was almost too small to see, but then he placed it on his finger - a ring.

The fire turned to ice. Loki grew in size to terrifying proportions, becoming a true Jotun, only even more monstrous. The real Loki gasped at the sight. The Jotun wielded Aeglos like a dagger, and his powers were overwhelming, covering all of Middle-Earth in endless ice.

The fiery ring around the image blazed back in anger, and the Eye of Sauron sprang forth, almost leaping out of the basin.

Loki pushed himself away, stumbling backwards. He panted for breath, certain he was smoking, but it had not been true fire.

A warning, he realised. Sauron had seen the same image, and been afraid.

Afraid of what Loki could become if he had this ring. How it had come to be in a small farming village in the land of small people, he would probably never know, but Sauron knew it was there. Its power was nothing Loki had come across before. He had no idea of its scope, but Sauron feared it falling into his hands. That was enough.

Should he go there and try to take it? With such immense powers, he could free Thor with the wave of a hand. He could rid Middle-Earth of Sauron. Maybe he could even heal Frigga and take them all home.

He laughed at himself. Go home as a monster even more disgusting than the one he already was? No, that he would not do.

'Loki? What did you see?' Thranduil was hurrying down the steps, face alarmed. 'How did you even find this place?'

'Lady Galadriel led me here.' The magic of Lórien settled as Loki found his purpose. He was finally calm. Thranduil sensed the change, and he approached cautiously.

'What did you see?'

'The road ahead.'