I want to apologize for the wait on this chapter, but school was rough, TONS of reading. But if you notice any mistakes, please let me know, I still have no beta reader. Let me know what you think!

Okay well I have had major writers block so this is not exactly what I had in mind for this chapter, but hopefully it is better than I think it is.

Chapter 10

Túrante did not know for certain how long they had been traveling through the base of the mountains, but she knew it had to be a few hours and she was beginning to hear Fëa's labored breathing. The horse was beginning to over exert, and she mentally slapped herself for not noticing her horse's condition sooner. She raised her hand in the dim light, alerting the others to stop and once she heard the pace of the men behind her she began to slow Fëa. Once she had stopped completely, Túrante dismounted and began to walk her in circles in the tight passage, trying to cool her down. It would be disastrous to have her joints lock up; she would have to be left behind.

It took close to thirty minutes for her breathing to return to normal and to finally be able to stop walking in circles. She knew she would have to be more careful in the future, even the horses of Rohan could not run forever. Even the great Shadowfax had begun to show weariness.

Now it was time to figure out just how far they had traveled and to send word to her people. They would hear their approach with plenty of time to assemble an army to stop them, but they needed to be warned of their coming and to not interfere.

"I need to travel ahead to get an idea of how far we have traveled and also to send word to my people. They will hear our coming, long before we arrive; we need them not to interfere with our passage." Túrante told them.

"How long will that take?" Gandalf asked her, weariness creasing his face. Túrante could tell he had not slept well or often since they left Edoras.

"Maybe half the night at most, but no longer. This path is secret, no one but my people and I know of it, you should both take the time to sleep without worry." She told them, before starting off down the path, neither man replying, they just nodded at her retreating form.

They had built many message portals throughout the mountain pass in order to keep in touch quickly and easily. They were small outcrops from the mountain side and they had a falcon placed nearby to answer the call, paper was already attached to the harness it wore, hidden in its back feathers. It did not take her long to find one, about a league up, and it was labeled with 700 and then Moria underneath it. So here was their first obstacle they would encounter—Moria. Without wasting more time, she called the bird and sent it off with the letter.

They would have to be careful, they would leave the mountains, and follow around its base where Moria was located, but often, Orcs roamed outside its doors. There was a small chance they could run into a band of the retched creatures.

When she made it back to the camp she saw both men were sound asleep, Gandalf with his eyes open, it made her shudder and she turned away. Túrante knew she needed rest, but she did not want to face those demons in her dreams again. Her body ached, every movement felt like she had weights attached to her limbs. Though she must have hid it well, they never seemed to catch on that she had poison still in her body, and that she would until she could either get to Galadriel or her own people.

So eventually she sat down with her back against the cave wall, the dampness slightly seeping through her clothes. She pulled her hair down and began to re-braid it down her back, as her thoughts drifted to the men they were after, lingering longer on Legolas than the others. She could picture his face clearly in her mind from the night they first met when she was tended to his wound. He was in so much pain, and she could only guess the kind of pain he was in now. She had to force herself to push the thought away; it would do no one any good to dwell on it.

Gandalf woke on his on a few hours after her return, close to dawn and after another hour they roused Éomer. She knew she needed to tell them where they were and what dangers faced them ahead, but she did not want to, all she had done so far was bring bad news after more bad news. As they packed the gear, she sighed and spoke.

"Not far ahead we will leave the mountain and travel around its base for a time to avoid Moria. However, we will be very close to its entrance and so there is a chance of running into orcs there. We need to be careful and observant."

"How many can we be expecting to face if we do run upon them?" Gandalf asked.

"It is hard to say, but they should not be enough to cause us much problem if we do," she replied.

They talked little on their way down the passage, from her estimation, they had maybe a few more minutes of riding before the tunnel ended and they would once again face the light of day, and Túrante could not wait. She found the tunnel cramped and like a prison, especially traveling in a group.

Soon enough, there was a stream of light breaking the dim light around them. It seemed to sparkle through the dust particles swirling around them. It was a more than welcomed sight and the horses perked up when they saw it, their paced quickened drastically. It would seem it brought life back into them; at least it was not just her who disliked the place. They burst through the opening at a full gallop, Fëa letting out a whinny at her joy. The sun beat down upon them, warming their chill and brightening their moods, it was a beautiful day.

They traveled through the day without any problems, and set up camp as soon as they lost daylight. Túrante knew it was time to start training them to fight against the vampires; they needed to know what to expect.

"My lords, we need to start training you on how to fight against Eglanon." She told them, after some debate. "

"Will we not use battle techniques we already know?" Éomer asked her.

"Yes, of course you will, but we are much faster and stronger than any human of elf. To kill us, you must take off our heads. It is not an easy feat. My hope is that these new vampires he has made are young and mostly untrained, they will not have a clue how to fight."

As if to prove her point, she moved side to side in front of Éomer and Gandalf, watching as they tried to follow her movement. They failed, well Éomer failed, Gandalf could a least tell her direction of movement.

She had them practice half the night, she wanted to do more, see real improvement, but Éomer was exhausted and Gandalf was beginning to show his weariness. Gandalf was able to block some of her blows, and Éomer started to figure out her directional movements. It was something they would have to work on every night from here on out, she should not have waited as long as she did. Once they settled in, the men went to sleep and she took watch, trying to let her own aching body rest.

Legolas woke to a pounding in his head, it hurt to move, to think, to do practically anything. It took him awhile to get his Barings, still keeping his eyes close, all he could tell is that he was lying on something hard and flat, and being wheeled across uneven ground, the constant bouncing jarring his already sore body.

Once the pain in his head subsided, his thoughts became clearer, and they drifted to the dark haired woman he had dreamed about in his unconsciousness. He could not understand why his thoughts were preoccupied with her, but that is where they stayed and he wondered where she was, was she here with him? No, she could not be, he knew it, he was missing that strange feeling he got when she was close. So where is she? Back in Edoras, back to her people? He did not know, he was just glad it was not with him and hoped she was okay.

He then began to listen to his surroundings, whatever was pulling them was quite, and it unnerved him. Any horse or even person would make noise as they walked forward. He could hear no talking, so maybe whatever was pulling them was alone and he heard the deep breathing of the men beside him, it sounded no more than 3 others, so Faramir, Aragorn, and Gimli must be with him, just not awake.

Time began to drag, it seemed like hours since he had woken, but he knew it could not have been more than thirty minutes. He tried wiggling to rouse the others, but it did nothing other than the mover giving the cart a little jerk, and he would wince in pain. He had opened his eyes and saw only blue skies, no clouds, no trees, just sky. Off to the side was green rolling fields as far as his eyes could she, and it gave him nothing to pinpoint for a direction or location.

Soon, he heard a groaning sound next to him, "Aragorn?" he whispered, scared to talk louder.

"Aye, Legolas?" he asked his voice cracking and hoarse.

"Yes it is me my friend."

"Are we all here?"

Legolas sighed, "From what I can tell, it is Gimli, Faramir, you and I, but it is only a guess."

He heard Aragorn shift some before he spoke again, "Where are we?"

"A better question may be, 'where are we going?' but I could not tell you the answer to ether."

They both lay in silence the next few minutes, both wandering the same thing over and over. Where were they, where were they going, where were the others, and so on. The light was waning slowly as dusk approached, surely they would stop soon. They never found out if they stopped during the night, they both drifted off back to sleep, shortly after nightfall.

The morning was not the clear day they experienced yesterday, thick grey clouds covered the sky. The air did not smell like rain, but it was dreary none the less. She did not have to wake the men, they rose with the sun and they began making their way north again, ever closer to Moria.

Despite everyone's mood, they made good progress, the horses keeping up a good gallop for the most part, with a few trots here and there to keep them from wearing out. It was close to midday and the weather was cooler out than it had been, when Túrante felt a chill run up her spine. She jerked Fëa around and halted, the, men confused, did the same. She waited and she listened, hoping it was just the breeze giving her the feeling, but she knew that was wrong.

It did not take long for her to hear it, the loud thudding of their feet, and the clanking metal of their armor—orcs. Closing her eyes, she focused all her energy and thought on their footfalls, hearing only them. It was not a huge party, but it was fairly large for orcs, at least fifty of them, traveling perpendicular to them, maybe five miles ahead.

"We have company. They are five miles ahead and there are close to fifty of them, by my count." Túrante told the, opening her eyes.

"Do we fight?" Éomer asked.

It was Gandalf who answered, rather than Túrante, "It is our duty to protect the people of Middle Earth, and we cannot let them go if we have a good chance to kill them. Túrante?"

"I agree, we should not have any trouble in taking them down."

"It is three against fifty, how is that possible?" Éomer's eyes wide in worry.

"Éomer, have you remembered nothing from last night? Chances are they will run from me shortly, and even if they do not, I can handle them easily."

"Right." It was all he said.

"Follow me; I shall ride straight for them." She urged Fëa

Forward, and the mare eager with anticipation, leaped forward with all her strength. It did not take long for them to hear the clanking metal and gruff voices of the orcs. They were close, and Túrante let them know, "It is time."

The orcs came into view, right after her words, all jumbled and confused, trying to form some kind of ranks against the attackers. When they saw just the three riders come into view, they began to laugh, it sounds more like cough from their gruff throats.

Túrante leapt from Fëa's back and charged, the orcs losing sight of her immediately and they began breaking apart, confused and suddenly fearful. Right before Gandalf and Éomer hit, about three orcs had fallen to the ground, they never knew what hit them, and their screams erupted into the air at the sight.

Her movements were fluid, it seemed as if time were slowing down as she moved through the creatures, striking down the ones in the middle, most never even knew she was there until her twin blades cut through their thick hide. One accidently connected his sword to hers in his backswing, bewildering him. He spun around, barely seeing her. The forced sent pain shooting through her arms, from the poison and she had not been prepared for it. Her movement stopped for a split second, but it was enough for the orc to catch her. Túrante moved at the last minute, the tip of his broad sword barely nicking her arm, it healed almost instantly. This made the brutish beast stop. He died moments later. She could not be sure but the battle could not have lasted longer than thirty minutes. They met back in the same area they started the battle, no one having any wounds other than a few minor scratches.

"Are they all killed?" Gandalf asked her.

"Yes I believe they are." Túrante answered, "We should head on while we can and go unnoticed, more may come."

She called for Fëa and mounted her again, giving her a pat on her sweaty neck. They took off north, passing the mines of Moria.