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Chapter 9

Traveling would have been must faster had the men not gone, but there was no persuading them otherwise. It would slow them down, they could possibly lose days and on a trail that was hours old by now. Éomer had already given her free reign to pick any horse of her choosing in the heard they had gathered just days before. They were fresh, young, and strong. She never rode much being a vampire, but back home she had plenty of horses, they were calming and enjoyable. She wished now she had not left her mare behind. She searched through each horse, wasting precious time, but the horse she picked had to be special to face the perils they were riding into.

She found a high spirited mare, a gorgeous dark grey with long legs and a strong body, her thick neck, arched proudly from her shoulders. The Lord Éomer pointed out they had many faster horses than she.

"But she has heart, and on this journey it will all be tested to the end." Túrante replied, stroking the horse's side. She had calmed instantly in her presence but still pranced about eager to ride.

Within the hour, the three companions were riding off away from the great city of Edoras; it was sinking slowly down into the hills behind them. Wide open grassland was surrounding them and covered the land as far as the eye could see, except for a small area of trees in a little valley off to the west. This is where they were headed, to the spot the lords were taken just hours before.

Drawing the horses to a stop, Túrante dismounted and surveyed the area. There was dried blood from here wounds and a mess of horse hooves scarring the ground. Stepping to her left she saw the marks of where the men had stood before they were knocked unconscious and taken. They were drug two at a time to the other edge of the wood. Here they were dropped and different tracks appeared. It seemed Eglanon had loaded their bodies on some sort of cart and hauled them off on it, and distinct wheel indentions marred the dirt. The tracks were plain to her eyes, and for now they would be easy to follow as long as the cart stayed in use.

"From here it seems as though the tracks head west for a good way, I shall guess they are making for the gap of Rohan. From there it will be any ones guess. They were put on a cart and hauled off, I do not know if you can see the tracks but I can. We shall leave now and travel through the Gap. After that we will have to take a break and calculate our next move." Túrante told the wizard and the man.

"If that is what we must do, then let us ride." Gandalf answered.

With that they spurred the horses into a gallop, following Túrante's lead into the night. It was a clear night, not a single cloud could be found, only the sparkling stars lit up the dark. A slight wind blew, but with the speed of their steeds, it stung like bee stings upon their skin, though it was of little concern to the travelers.

It was near dawn when the Gap of Rohan was before them, the trail had lead them towards the northern edge of the Gap, near Isengard, the abandoned tower that Sauruman had once dwelt in. The paths here were getting rocky and the trail, harder to read. It was frustrating to Túrante, and to the others. Time was against them and without a clear trail; they could easily get off track. It left her no choice but to halt the travel for the time.

"We need to rest here until the dawn arises and I can run ahead and find where it leads. The rocky outcrops are too difficult to read in the dark. I do not dare risk misdirection." She told them.

She was irritated and angry. Eglanon had chosen this way on purpose, knowing if he was followed, it would take much more time to be caught. Now unless they knew exactly where he was headed, they would never make up ground. Once the two others had settled down and the horses un-tacked, she headed out to search for the trail. Eglanon's scent was still lingering heavy in the air, so she knew they had not wandered off far, if at all.

It was a bold choice but she chose to run until she reached the end of the rocky outcrops that surrounded the realm of Isengard. Then she looked for a path, she hoped this would save her time and make for a quicker journey. After walking around the edge, she picked up on dents in the grass, the blades had been snapped in half and laid flat in two small areas, and they were wheel tracks. Her heart gave a small leap of hope at the discovery. With the hour she had left before the sun was high in the sky she followed the tracks once more.

He was following close to the Old South Road, heading North West the whole way. He would veer east and west to avoid any settlements but that was the only variation in his path and so north they would go. There was a path her people had found many years ago that weaved through the Misty Mountains until their end in the north. She had a mind to take this way up north, though it would take them away from the trail. It was more like a sixth sense telling her to do this, but her mind wanted to take the path Eglanon had left. It was a debate she would let the men decided.

Once she had returned Gandalf and Éomer had the horses ready and the small camp cleared up. She thanked them and told them of her findings.

"From now on I would rather not follow on his exact path. It would make it that much easier for him to pick up on our presence and realize he is being followed. For now I believe he is unaware, he is doing little to hide his tracks." She told them, even though she herself was in somewhat of doubt about this choice.

Éomer spoke first, "So how can we follow him if we are not on his trail? Would that not cause us to lose more time?" His brow was furrowed in questioning.

"We take a path north close to the mountains base that my people and I found long ago. I shall follow the path when you must take rest and when you're recovered, we ride parallel to him. If he continues north as he is, this path will save us time. It is the quickest way I have found yet to go north in this area."

Gandalf mounted his horse and the others followed suit, they waited to hear his thoughts. Even though Túrante was the chosen leader, she found herself also looking towards Gandalf for more guidance than she had expected.

"I do not know if I trust this path, I know my mistake in not heading your word before, but I find that following his tracks seems the better of the two options. I do not wish a delay in their finding."

"There is a chance it could happen, but I would rather take it than be caught in pursuit." Her voice was sharp, but she stayed calm.

"I agree with Gandalf, I am sorry Túrante, but I do not know if I wish to risk losing the trail you have just re-found."

Túrante sighed, rubbing her face with her hands, "It seems I am outnumbered then," and kicked her horse into a run.

As much as she wanted to argue she kept her mouth shut, she needed their trust more than anger, at least right now. And she even had to consider her own doubts about the thought. She did not understand the fervor in which she wanted to take the Mountain Pass, knowing she had a clear trail to follow. She had been lucky in Gandalf's early trust in her, it is what kept the others in open mind, even if as of yet they did not trust her.

She was worried they would not find Eglanon's camp soon enough, that they would be too late to save the men and her long life of trying to rid the world of her kinds evil race would be for nothing, that it was all in vain. She thought of Legolas, where ever he was at the moment, and of the others, and hoped with all her heart they were okay. Please be okay, stay strong, she thought, closing her eyes tight.

The next few days past much the same, they rested a few hours during the night and traveled at the first sign of light in the morning, following the trail. They continue to go ever northward, Túrante kept them slightly closer to the mountain range, than the trail was, just in case they needed to follow her path, or if the others changed their minds, though she did not see that happening soon.

On the third night they made camp in a small wooded area near the Dunland realm between the Misty Mountains and the Old south Road. She had not had much rest the past few nights and decided to take the middle watch and sleep some. Laid out on a small bedroll, it was not soon before Túrante was fast asleep.

Her sleep, however, was not restful. Instead she tossed and turned throughout the night, dreams plaguing her mind that had not occurred since the first age.

She was back at Angband in the dark dank walls of the dungeons. It was after Melkor had first realized that her and the others had not been killing and taking in blood, in his anger he trapped them in the dungeons while he recalculated his project.

Then it switched.

She was being forced to train the new vampires, these were his prize, and they had been totally corrupted by his malice. The training occurred all day and some of the night in the lands outside his castle. She could feel her hatred raging inside her body, her repulsion at their sight. Túrante then had the idea for the rebellion.

Now she was in the midst of a battle, her and her followers were attacking the other vampires, the ones loyal to Melkor, the blood drinkers. It was one of the bloodiest battles she had been witnessed, and by the end all the vampires had been killed, but many of her people had been too, and now Melkor was returning from the kingdom of the Dúnedain. She was already filling his wrath, it was washing around her body like a flood. She had never expected to live through this battle, she was strong, but she was no match for Melkor, but they had fulfilled their purpose, the peoples of Middle Earth were just a bit safer with this creation now destroyed. They set up a last line of defense against Melkor.

Then she was slung from that memory and into yet another.

She was caring for Eglanon; he had just been turned, and was writhing in pain. She felt her grief for him like it was happening all over again. Melkor had brought him there as a very young elfling and Túrante looked after her brother as her own child, they reformed their little family group.

The transformation took place many years after he was brought to Angband and was exceptionally hard on him, but she was there through it all. He was never the same afterward, he was distant and was always wandering, though she never changed her feelings for him and always kept him close.

It was after the rebellion and they had built their city and sanctuary when it happened. He rebelled against them, and left. When Túrante found him he had made it to Melkor's other fortress in the castle of Carn Dùm in Angmar.

At the sight of him Túrante knew what he had done, he had taken human blood, he had condemned himself to be killed, as was their promise. But he had changed much, he was no longer the little elfling that had followed her like a child, he was stronger, more confident, and filled with rage and malice.

She was reliving the worst nightmare of her life, the first battle between her and Eglanon, the one memory she wanted gone forever. She had him pinned to the ground, sword in hand at his neck, ready to end it all.

She woke with a start, sweaty and out of breath sitting straight up in the cot. Her hair was stuck to her face, and her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms.

She knew where he was going; she knew why she wanted to follow the Mountain Pass in her heart. She knew, and in seconds she was gone. She forgot all repercussions of being seen and took to the skies, wings beating as fast as they were able, and she flew straight toward the Grey Mountains and the land of Angmar.

Túrante went straight up the misty mountains, cutting out many miles of travel, she was watching for any sign of life toward Angmar, and once she came close to the realm of Rivendell, she found it. There was thick smoke far off in the distance, covering the air of the mountains. There was something at the old fortress of Carn Dùm, and she landed on the nearest peak, sinking to the ground.

This was almost too much for her to bear, not only was she tracking the elf she use to consider her family, to kill him, she would have to follow him to the place that created all her nightmares. Her body shook from fear and fatigue, the poison was reeking havoc on her and now she face facing a mental battle like none she had to bare before. Then, for the first time in many an age, a tear slide silently down her cheek.

When she returned, the sun had risen for a couple of hours and Gandalf and Éomer were passing restlessly around the camp. She landed before them, sitting on the nearest rock, wings outstretched behind her, limp.

"Where have you been? Do you realize the time we have lost, and the worry we had at seeing you speed into the night without so much as a word?" Gandalf was patronizing, but he did not notice his words were landing on deaf ears.

She was heaving to catch her breath, coming in short gasps, and knew Gandalf was speaking, but could not bring herself to listen at the moment. She had taken a longer time getting back than she should have, but Túrante knew she had to get herself composed to tell the men of her findings. Once her breathing had eased, she raised a single hand in the air, eyes still focused on the ground between her feet, and the others silenced.

"We travel to Carn Dùm at once." Túrante told them, her voice much more steady than she had expected.

The silence that followed her statement was quite enough that one could hear a grain of sand move underfoot, and she did. Looking up, she saw the pure bewilderment that was on their faces. Had the situation not been as dire, she might have risked a laughed, however, she could not. It would be difficult to explain to them how she knew this but she had to, and there was no time to be waiting.

"Last night I had a dream of long memories past, ones that opened my eyes to what I had been missing all along. When Eglanon turned, he had made Morgoth's old strong hold of Carn Dùm his own. That is why I left last night, had to see if he had returned.

"I made it to the northern border of Rivendell; from there I was able to see smoke, black dense smoke, rising in the North. It was rising from Angmar, he has returned there."

"Are you positive?" Gandalf asked his eyes wide and voice sharp. He grabbed her arm, in his haste.

"No other would dare live there that now live in Middle Earth. Many years have passed since the evil that dwelt there was vanquished, but the evil remains, no good thing can prosper there. I am sorry Gandalf, but that is where we must go."

It took a moment for all the information to sink into their minds, the idea of traveling to that desolate evil land, was a terrifying thought. The evil malice that still lingered was the same as in Dol Goldur and Mordor, no amount of years could ever truly cleanse it.

Éomer then spoke, voice quite, "How long can we expect this journey to take?"

For a moment Túrante did not reply, she had thought he would be hard to convince, and here he was going right along with it as if she had been his advisor all along. She wanted to question him, but time did not allow. A wave of relief did, however, wash over her; maybe getting accepted would not be so hard.

"Rivendell is the closest half way marker, and that is a ten day journey on average at top speed. We can be looking at a month of travel. Though, the mountain pass I spoke of earlier will cut off a few days and drop us off at the very end of the Misty Mountains and open to cross into Angmar from the rear."

Now Túrante just had to hope that the men would agree to the pass this time, it would conceal their path to Angmar and keep them in secrecy, a thing they greatly needed, and speed. The pass cut days out of the trip.

"How many days does the pass you speak of save us?"

"At least five days Milord Éomer."

They did not take long to discuss the options they had, and took Túrante's advice, they would make for the Mountain Pass. And with that, the company speed off, following a barely visible path into the base of the Misty Mountains.

A thin layer of mist greeted them at an opening into the side of the mountain, hide from view by overhanging vines and trees. The droplets of water condensed on their skin and cooled them from the heat of the day. Once in the mountain, the men were at wonder to see it was not entirely dark, light seemed to emit from tiny holes in the stone walls. Túrante explained it was blessed stones from the Lady of the Wood, always giving off light to the travelers of the path, they never went out. They galloped throughout the day and most of the night, heading ever closer to their dreaded destination.