Shadows of Angmar

by Mike Taurguss

Xena/LOTR crossover! Strange painful dreams begin to plague Gabrielle. What could they mean? Are they memories, or nightmares? Then, an unearthly storm wisks them away, depositing them in a world they could never have imagined...

21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A large area at the edge of the camp had been cleared and was now ringed by members of Tyrion's elite Rangers. Most of them held extinguishing units or rescue equipment.

At the far end of the clearing, Aragorn, Eomer, and the rest of his advisors stood expectantly.

All eyes scanned the low hanging clouds, and their ears strained to hear the telltale sound of the dropship engines.

Gabrielle stood near the supply depot, Xena beside her, both looking up expectantly.

"She'll make it," Gabrielle said, more as a wish than as a fact.

Xena's head dropped as if in thought.

"She will," Gabrielle continued. "She's the best pilot I know!"

"Gabrielle," Xena gave her friend a quizzical look. "She's the only pilot you know."

"Not true!" Gabrielle countered. "I know Tyrion, and as good as he is – "

She stopped short when Xena raised a hand. Her head turned slightly as she concentrated.

"What?" Gabrielle asked, her gaze returning to the sky.

Xena waved her hand impatiently.

"What?" Gabrielle pressed.

"Shhh!" Xena ordered. Then after a few seconds, her eyes turned skyward. "I hear something."

"There!" Legolas called from atop a nearby supply wagon. He pointed to the sky. "I see it!"

A few moments later, Xena and Gabrielle saw the tiny dark speck emerging from the cloud layer, streaming dark smoke.

"Ah hell," Felix sighed. "Not again."

Tyrion watched as the ship dropped steadily towards the camp. He tapped his com.

"Talk to me, Nicky."

"We're okay, for the most part," Nicolla replied. Her voice was tight. "Starboard control cluster took a hit. Controls are sluggish. Might be a little port side drift on this one, baby."

The fact that Nicolla had abandoned military protocol and referred to her unit commander as "baby", showed just how much concentration was required to keep the vessel aloft.

The pitch of the remaining engine rose as the ship dropped again and began to slow over the clearing.

"Don't count off for neatness," Nicolla added as the ship, billowing thick black smoke began to spin lazily as it hovered. Suddenly, there was a loud metallic clatter, like a thousand hammers striking iron. Tongues of brilliant orange flame flickered from the starboard exhaust vents before another cloud of yellow/white dust obscured it, coating the side of the ship.

"There goes the starboard engine!" Nicolla blurted as the ship wheeled dangerously and dropped to the ground hard. The landing skid hydraulics flexed to the limit, gave a sickening clunk, and then recoiled back. Nicolla cut the power, triggered the secondary extinguisher system, and another cloud of white dust erupted from both engines as people ran towards the vessel. A gust of wind sent a cloud of the material across the landing field, and right over Xena, Gabrielle, Felix, and Legolas.

"Check those vents!" Silas was shouting. "Clear that damage!"

Hoskin's voice bellowed over the activity. "Get those people clear of there! Move it!"

The ramp lowered and seven figures emerged, walking stiffly and covered in black grime.

Freya, Illis, and Nicolla stepped over to Tyrion, while Mavon followed Mileasha, who was running to the medical tent.

"Report," Tyrion asked Nicolla.

"Well, Mileasha wasn't kidding when she said Beck was good," Nicolla offered. She moved her hands in front of her, imitating the brief encounter. "I came over a small rise, pounced, he rolled, and the next thing I know?" She looked back at the smoking ship.

Tyrion followed her gaze and sighed. Large holes perforated the right side, and the engine housing. The exhaust vents shows the dark discoloration of burnt components beneath the sweetly smelling extinguisher dust.

"Any casualties?" Tyrion looked past the flustered pilot. He grinned in spite of himself as Gabrielle, Felix, Xena, and Legolas came into view, all covered in a fine layer of the extinguisher dust.

"No, Master Chief," Illis replied, turning to look. "Just a few new bumps and bruises." He was suddenly struggling not to laugh out loud.

"This is not funny," Gabrielle complained as she slapped at her clothing, releasing more of the dust into the air around her. Xena waved the cloying material away and suddenly sneezed violently. While the elf seemed to be in a state of shock.

Only Hoskins wore an expression of acceptance as he began to brush the material from his uniform.

"The extinguishers work," he offered flatly.

Gabrielle slowly turned and glared at him. "You think?"

Xena raised a finger in front of Gabrielle, and then turned and mimicked the motion before Hoskins nose. "Don't start."

Then, mustering as much dignity as she could, she went in search of a water barrel.

Legolas involuntarily licked his lips and grimaced at the taste. "What is this?" he held his arms out away from his body as if he feared contamination.

The laughter was infectious, and soon, even the most seriously injured of Illis's party was laughing despite their discomfort.

"On the plus side," Freya offered as the wave of humor subsided. "Korbal's people have opened the path. There is nothing standing between us and Angmar. We could be there in a week."

"I agree," Illis added. "Their battle cost them dearly, but they have given us an opportunity."

"How many of them were lost?" Silas asked.

"Unknown," Illis replied. "We only saw the ones clearing the dead enemy. None of their own dead were still on the field by the time we got there."

"Keeping their losses a secret," Hoskins offered. "Probably means the bad guys don't know either, Chief," Hoskins offered.

Tyrion looked at the three weary soldiers before him. Then to Gabrielle, Hoskins, and Legolas and he smiled.

"Get cleaned up, you two," he instructed the bard and the elf and then turned to Illis. "And grab some rest."

He looked to Hoskins and indicated the ship behind them. "Hoss, let me know how bad it is."

"You'll have it in an hour," Hoskins nodded, looking at Silas. The big black man nodded. "I'm with you."

Mileasha knelt next to the bed, grasping her sister's hand.

Iesha rattled a deep breath, and her eyes opened. "Hi Mil," her voice emerged as a breathless croak.

"Hi, yourself," Mileasha replied, relief flooding her. "How are you feeling?"

"Did you get him?" Iesha asked. Then she frowned at her sister's grime smeared face. "You look like shit."

Mileasha felt Mavon's hand settle on her shoulder and she smiled. "How are you feeling?" she repeated.

Iesha winced in pain. "Awful," she admitted. Then she forced a smile

Mileasha sniffed and smiled.

"She got bounced around a bit," Mavon offered. "But Doc thinks she'll be alright."

Mileasha looked up at Mavon. "What happened?"

Tyrion walked through the supply dump, mentally taking an inventory. He was so lost in thought that he almost crashed into a disconsolate Jeeves when he rounded a large stack of crates.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he offered as he quickly stepped aside.

Tyrion's eyes narrowed. "I thought you went with Dade?"

"I was supposed to, yes," Jeeves replied. "Unfortunately, I didn't make the voyage."

Tyrion looked about at the despoiled supplies. "How bad off are we?"

Jeeves looked around and offered an apologetic shrug. "I haven't inspected every container, yet, sir," he began. "But at an initial estimate, I would say that we have been stripped of most of our replacement firearms and solid shot ammunition. However, they neglected to abscond with the energy cell charging units. Additionally, they are now in possession of a fair portion of our medical supplies and food."

Tyrion grunted

"On a positive note," Jeeves offered. "You won't be forced to endure combat rations while in camp."

"But," Tyrion replied. "They now have ample weapons, ammunition, and food."

"I'm afraid so, sir," Jeeves nodded.

Tyrion looked about the mess and sighed again.

"I'll detail some men to give you a hand," he said. "Get me a full inventory. I need to know exactly what we have left to work with."

"Very good, sir," Jeeves replied.

The army marched. The line of infantry stretching back miles along the country tracks while the mounted cavalry rode as sentries along the outskirts at either side of the troop. Behind the infantry came the wagons, loaded with provisions and then the inevitable camp followers, who also brought with them the tools and wares of their trades. There were tinkers, armorers, smithies, bowyers, and even several travelling taverns that supplied the off duty troops with the entertainment men on campaign tended to crave.

It was like any other march on the campaign, with one exception. Nicolla's flying machine no longer dropped in to deliver and pick up the scouts that had been opening the way before Aragorn's army.

The damaged vessel had been left behind with Hoskins, Silas, Felix and Nicolla attempting repairs.

Now, Aragorn relied on scouting parties of Rohirrim, commanded by Xena. She and Gabrielle rode out beyond the horizon with troops of horsemen, searching for any indication that the enemy was in the field, or laying traps. Each day they rode a wide circuit out beyond the path of the army, deployed Ithillien Rangers who continued further into hostile territory, and each day, the report was the same. The enemy was not in sight.

Tyrion fancied that he and his people had become spoiled during the march, relying on the dropship to deploy them with ease, anywhere they wished to go. That luxury gone, the troops grumbled about the march. The scouts who deployed complained about having to ride behind the saddle on horses for hours before being dropped off, but eventually, the grumbling subsided as remembered normality reasserted itself.

They marched into the land known as the Ettenmoors, keeping the mountains on their right as they continued north towards a large peak.

"That," Gimli offered as they marched. "Is Mount Gram, an ancient stronghold of the goblins."

"And we're heading right for it," Gabrielle offered glumly.

"True," Gimli replied. "But I do not think we have much to fear. The lands of the Ettenmoors have long been uninhabited."

"Oh?" Gabrielle's eyebrows rose.

"Going to have to tell her now," Felix smiled as he walked beside her.

"It was an ancient Goblin Stronghold, as I said," The dwarf began again. "The last Orc leader I can recall was," he muttered to himself as he counted back the years. "Golfimbul, and he ruled a mighty horde of the vile creatures. They swarmed south from the mountain to decimate the lands of Eriador, and made it nearly to the Shire before they were thwarted."

"The Shire?" Gabrielle asked, then snapped her fingers. "Merry and Pippen's home, right?"

"Correct," Gimli nodded. "They scoured the land all the way into the northern parts of Buckland before an army of hobbits met them."

"Let me guess," Gabrielle offered. "There was a great battle." She spoke the words bombastically, eliciting chuckles from others.

"In point of fact, no, Lass," Gimli corrected her, grinning behind his beard. He cleared his throat and then continued. "The hobbits were led by Bandobras Took – who is, I may add, a descendant of our beloved ring bearer, Frodo Baggins. Now, Bandobras was large for a hobbit. So large in fact, that he was often mistaken for a normal man. He learned the ways of fighting from the Rangers of the North and was tall enough to ride a horse instead of a pony."

"Really?" Xena asked, dubious.

"Swear to it, Mistress Xena," The dwarf placed a hand to his breast. "He mounted his horse and rode with his army to meet the goblin horde. The two sides faced each other north of the Brandywine River, and it was then, that Brandobras realized he had made a mistake, for he had not marched far enough from the river to be able to maneuver during the battle!"

Gimli spoke with a fervent intensity as he told the tale, and several marching soldiers now alternated their focus between the person before them and the dwarf.

"So there they were," Gimli went on again, gesticulating as he described the scene. "Brandobras and his army, their backs against the river, facing a horde of Goblins, and Golfimbul sitting astride his armored warg!"

He looked around quickly, making sure that he had everyone's attention.

"Golfimbul howled, pointing his weapon and he led the goblins in a charge across the field! Brandobras ordered his archers forward. They fired one volley, then another, and even a third. The goblins fell by the bushel, but for every one that fell, two more continued forward, and Golfimbul's armor had protected him from the arrows!"

Gimli straightened up theatrically, holding a hand out. "Brandobras Took shouted in fury and charged his horse right at the goblin leader, brandishing his war club. His troops were so shocked, that they didn't follow right away, but Brandobras was filled with rage. The two leaders met amid a horde of goblins! Brandobras swung his club, and such was the strength behind his desperate blow that he struck the goblin leaders head clean off!"

Gimli pointed across the field before them, as if looking for the very spot it happened.

"Golfimbul's head sailed over his army, for a hundred yards if it was an inch!" he proclaimed. "It bounced once, still in its iron helm, and then rolled down a rabbit hole."

Gabrielle blinked. "Rabbit hole?"

A couple men around them began to snicker.

"On my honor, Lass," Gimli said solemnly. "One hundred yards, one bounce, and a rabbit hole. The goblins took one look at their headless leader and fled in fear! And that was how the hobbits won the battle of Greenfields," he smiled. "And how the game of golf was invented at the same time."

A chorus of groans emanated from the surrounding men, followed by laughter.

Gabrielle looked to Xena and then back, confused. "Golf?"

"Golf!" Gimli said, suddenly unsure. He saw the look of confusion on the bards face and became more flustered. "Golf! It's a game! You strike a ball, and then, you follow it and try and knock it into a hole in the ground" he explained. "Golf? You understand?"

Xena and Gabrielle shook their heads.

Gimli snorted impatiently. "What's the point of a good tale if you don't know a simple thing like golf?" He folded his arms across his chest, muttered something about strange people and odd ways, and stalked off, creating more laughter.

"In point of fact," Legolas added, smiling. "He is correct about the battle. The goblins were routed, hunted north and nearly destroyed. Their numbers have never recovered."

"But they do still have a presence in the region?" Xena asked.

"They do," Legolas nodded again. "But it is small. Their current leader is an orc called Tharzog, I believe. But he has not ventured from his caverns for many years. As long as we stay away from the east face of the mountain, we should fare well enough."

The army skirted the western face of the mountain, and as Legolas had predicted, they passed unimpeded, though some scouts spied small bands of goblins patrolling the higher regions of the mountain's foot. The goblins had fled when they saw the distant army, returning to the concealing darkness of their tunnels.

They emerged in a shallow valley, with mountains to the east and north, and the imposing face of Mount Gram in the south. As they continued towards the northern mountain range Mavon, Tyrion and the others began to watch the sky.

"If Dade wanted to," Mavon offered one afternoon. "He could rain seven levels of shit on us out here."

Tyrion nodded. "It could get ugly fast."

"So," The hawk nosed soldier continued. "Why doesn't he?"

Tyrion said nothing. It was a cogent question, and the Master Chief didn't have an answer.

"Keep your eyes open," he offered as he moved to join the king's party.

Five days into the rolling plains that were the heart of the Ettenmoors, the army set up camp at the foothills of the Mountains range called Hithaeglir. A widening path led up into the mountains, twisting its way westward to a large, black mountain at the far western tip of the range.

"That," Aragorn pointed to the foreboding peak. "Is the mountain of Carn Dum, the foundation of Angmar."

"How close?" Tyrion asked.

"If we march at dawn, we should make the bridge of Angmar in three days' time," Aragorn considered. "Four at most."

Tyrion nodded, then turned back into the tent and activated his holographic map of the stronghold. He mused, again, at how the two different cities of Minas Tirith and Angmar were undoubtedly the works of the same architect.

Where Minas Tirith was bisected by the large prow shaped formation that extended from the peak and cast shadows over the upper third of the city, Angmar was a bastion, the entire city had been hewn out of the mountain itself. The walls, and ramparts, also, had been hewn instead of built up. Some areas showed weathered scarring from ancient battles. Where the rock had been broken, tightly mortared stones patched the work.

The city was black faced and ominous. It was a garrison city, and one without pretention.

The single massive structure rose, six levels from the half circle that had been gouged from the mountain face. With ancient avenues criss-crossing each level. Ramparts and protective walls faced out at each level, rising, like a blackened layer cake until the tall narrow stretch of the single tower extended, like a clawed finger, up past the mountain peak.

From its single gate, a long, narrow bridge extended over a deep gorge. At either end of the bridge, massive trolls stood sentry next to large pylons. With a single massive effort, the four trolls could extract those pins and the entire bridge would collapse into the gorge, cutting off any assailing army from their prize.

A shadow passed over the table and Tyrion looked up to see Freya step into the tent. She snapped to attention and saluted. "Master Chief."

Tyrion nodded and looked back down at the hologram while Freya moved to the opposite side of the table and did the same.

After a few seconds, Tyrion looked up to see Freya, her face etched with concentration as she slowly moved back and forth along the table to look at the fortress from different angles.

"I can smell smoke," Tyrion offered. "What's on your mind?"

"How can I break you?" Freya replied absently as she stared at the fortress city. Then she blinked. "Sorry, Master Chief. Not you, but," she returned her gaze to the enemy stronghold. "You."

"Where's Illis?" Tyrion asked.

"He and the others are getting some sleep," Freya replied as she leaned down and adjusted her angle of view again.

Tyrion watched as the young woman moved around the table, studying the rising levels of the city, with ancient buildings and arches, decrepit houses, all so much like her own home. After a few minutes, he smiled. "Any revelations?"

Freya looked at Tyrion as if she were surprised to be asked. Then she cleared her throat and stepped closer to the display.

"We'll need to secure the bridge," Freya offered. She gestured at the structure spanning the divide. "But even if we do that, we still don't have the numbers to clear the city."

"Agreed," Tyrion nodded. He folded his arms across his chest and indicated the hologram. "Options, then?"

Freya smiled ruefully. "Is this a test, Master Chief?"

"You bet your tiny ass it is," Tyrion replied. "Traditional tactics are not practical in this instance, so?" He indicated the map. "Give me alternatives. Impress me."

Freya turned back and resumed her march around the table, occasionally stopping and leaning in to peer closer at the various levels. The city was gouged out of the mountain face, its northern side backed by the curved sheer wall of the hewn mountain. At the peak, where the royal residence would be, rested an imposing citadel, surrounded by ramparts and entered by a single gate. The main avenue of the city began its winding path down to the first level from there, again, like her home in Gondor.

"Well?" Tyrion pressed.

She continued to study the map, her eyes constantly being drawn to the fortress at the summit of the city. The fortress, and the sheer cliff that stood behind it, with several arched bridges leading to caves in the rock face. She switched the resolution of the hologram to show the interior of the mountain and followed the routes of the caves to where they appeared to stop at the opposite face of the mountain.

Tyrion could see the plan percolating in the young woman's mind. After a few more moments of contemplation, a smile began to creep over her face as she played out a scenario in her mind.

"We could hit them from the top down," she offered.

Tyrion rubbed his chin. "Explain."

Freya moved around the table gesturing at the various sections of the hologram.

"Even if we secure the bridge," she explained. "We're still on a narrow walkway that exposes us to defensive action. We could have an army of a million, but on a narrow walk like this-"

"Numbers mean nothing," Tyrion nodded. "Good."

The example really didn't do the bridge justice, seeing as it was wide enough for both of his APC's to lead a charge across it side by side, but the young recruits point was still valid.

"Go on."

"So," Freya moved to the back of the hologram. "We hit them from the top down?"

She indicated the northern face of the mountain.

"We transport a force to capture the citadel, and then start working our way down!" She became more animated as her plan grew. "Cut off the head of the snake, as it were."

Tyrion offered a shrug, "how?"

Freya grinned. She had been ready for that question.

"We repel down the sheer face of the mountain behind the citadel, and take the building from the rear."

Tyrion nodded and stepped to the opposite side of the table.

"Alright," he nodded. "Say you get your force down and capture the citadel. There's still one major problem," he pointed at the upper citadel and the bridge head. "We cannot simply abandon the main gate and give the enemy an escape route, so we'll need a force to attempt to secure the bridge at least. Obviously, this divides our forces. And just as obviously, they could be chopped up, piecemeal."

"True," Freya nodded. She shrugged. She pointed at the citadel. "But the last thing Angmar would anticipate is for a group of us to come blasting over the top of the mountain. It's why they built the place the way they did, right? It's just like back home, the citadel is at the summit because that is the most secure place on the mountain. We would never conceive of any type of flying beast or machine that could land on the top of Minas Tirith and deploy troops like you taught us. That gives us the element of surprise. Also, according to Lieutenant Malone, there's a better than good chance that the source of the dampening field is located here. What if it is? It would make sense. It's the highest point in the area - perfect for transmitting any kind of signal. This could be a way to neutralize that, right? You said that you have a ship up there, just waiting, but you can't contact it because of the dampening field. Is there anything we could use on that ship if contact was restored?"

Tyrion smiled. "The Arcum does have railguns that could be used to provide close artillery support."

"There it is," Freya smiled. "Capture the citadel, neutralize the dampening field, then bring more resources online to support a sweep down through the city. Once that process starts, the diversionary force can pull back and locate a good choke point to engage any retreating enemy forces. Simple."

"Simple huh?" Tyrion's eyebrows rose in amusement. He considered the young woman's plan for a few moments. "Okay, say it works. Say you get up there and breach the citadel. Hell, say you even capture it. What happens if everything goes pear shaped? What then?"

Freya frowned. "Pear shaped?"

Tyrion sighed. Even after all this time, some of the Master Chef's aphorisms still didn't register with her.

"What happens if you can't secure the citadel? What happens if the enemy has reserves ready to defend the summit? What if the source of the dampening field isn't up there?" He rolled his hand forward indicating a plethora of other "what if's".

"That's why we need to secure and open one of those tunnels first," Freya explained. "Our way out if things go," she frowned. "Pear shaped."

"Those tunnels don't extend all the way through to the other side of the mountain?" Tyrion continued.

Freya considered and then shook her head. "They have to."

"Oh, why?" Tyrion asked in a slightly mocking tone. "Because Crazy Freya says so?"

"No," Freya ignored the rebuke. "It makes sense."

"How does it make sense?" Tyrion pressed.

"Look at the city," Freya pointed at it. "One gate, one bridge, one way in or out, right?"

"Correct."

"Well that's just stupid," Freya snorted. "Why lock yourselves into a place like that? There's nothing in sight to indicate that the city is self-sustaining, right? So you drop the bridge and, what - starve to death? Why would anyone have a fortress this large with only one access point? If you're method of egress is cut off, you're screwed."

"You wouldn't," another voice offered from the entrance. The two looked up and saw Xena duck into the tent. She looked at the two of them and then at the image on the table. Freya nodded.

"Which means," she went on. "There has to be a second way in and out of that place."

"Second and third way," Freya returned her focus to the caves beyond the uppermost citadel. "Just like back home! This walkway here," she indicated the western bridge that spanned the gap from the fortress tower to a cave. "To here." She traced the route of the cave towards the far face of the mountain. Then she indicated another path from the rear of the citadel. "And this one from here," she traced a line to another cave entrance in the rear face of the mountain behind the fortress. "To here."

She called up the internal scans of the mountain and noted the traces of pathways that terminated just before reaching the northern face of the mountain.

Xena looked at Tyrion and saw the smirk, barely hidden on his face. She smiled when she realized that the old soldier was testing his cadet.

"You're speculating, Cadet," He offered.

Freya locked eyes with Tyrion. "There's no other explanation for them to have tunnels going that far through the mountain and just stop that close to the other side," she said confidently. "They have to go all the way through, otherwise what's the point?"

Tyrion began ticking items off on his fingers. "Storage, shelter, burial chambers, natural formations, to name a few," he said. "I like the plan Sneak, I really do, but you don't have positive intel on a key point. Without confirmation that at least one of those tunnels can be accessed from the north face of the mountain, I can't endorse it."

"But if we could prove that those tunnels do emerge on the north face of the mountain?" she asked.

"Then your plan might be viable." Tyrion finished. "So, how do you confirm your theory?

Freya considered for a moment. "Send in a recon team."

"One for each tunnel," Tyrion agreed. Then he tapped his com. "Hoss, I need two teams for a recon mission. Have them report to the main tent."

Freya frowned. "I'll take my team up into one of those tunnels."

"Your team?" Tyrion replied easily. Freya winced at the reminder of her demotion.

"But-"Freya began after a few moments.

"Not a request," Tyrion cut her off, flatly, indicating he would accept no argument.

Freya looked as if she would risk the argument anyway, her mouth opened and closed as her temper flared, but before it got the better of her, she turned with a huff and stormed out.

"She has quite a temper, doesn't she?" Xena offered, looking out at the retreating girl.

"Oh yeah," Tyrion rubbed his temples. "Our indomitable five foot fighting machine." He groaned.

Xena stepped closer and noted the circles under the Master Chief's eyes.

"You look like you need some rest yourself," she offered.

"Later," Tyrion waved a dismissive hand.

Legolas ducked his head in. "Your companions are coming!"

"What?" Tyrion stood up straight.

"Your flying machine!" The elf exclaimed. "It approaches!"

They all ran outside the tent, eyes focused skyward. Eventually they could make out the sound of an engine.

"There!" Xena pointed.

The dropship wobbled slightly as it approached, then turned and hovered over a clearing at the edge of the encampment.

"I'll be damned," Tyrion smiled. "They got it flying again."

They all met at the ramp as Nicolla came strolling towards them, a dissatisfied expression on her face.

"Congratulations!" Tyrion shook Silas's hand.

Gabrielle threw her arms around Felix and kissed him.

"Don't get so excited," Hoskins replied. "It's not all good."

Tyrion frowned.

Nicolla tucked her flight gloves in her belt and removed her helmet.

"Starboard control cluster is gone," she reported.

"You're flying on one engine?" Tyrion asked.

"I suppose you can call it flying," Nicolla sighed. Then she snapped her fingers. "Remember those HP-57's they used to use?"

"The short range ones?" Tyrion asked.

"Yep," she looked up at the ship and gestured to it grandly. "That is what we have here. A big, fancy deployment vehicle that hovers very fast, and that's it!"

She turned back, looking downcast. "There's no way we could ever use it to reach orbit."

"It's alright," Tyrion offered.

"It's not alright!" Nicolla blurted in frustration. "I keep breaking the ships that could get us out of here!"

"We'll figure something out," Tyrion replied. His eyes were focused on the ship.

"Uh oh," Hosking ventured. "I know that look."

"He's got a plan percolating," Felix nodded.

"More than one," Tyrion smiled as he turned away and strode back to his tent. "I'll tell you at the Ops briefing."

They all congregated in the tent seated or standing around the oval table that held the holo-emitter. A few eyebrows rose when Freya entered the tent alongside Illis. The meeting had been restricted to team leaders, Xena, Gabrielle, and the members of Tyrion's team, so the fact that Freya had also decided to attend was a presumption on her part. Tyrion could have ordered her out, but a stern look from Gabrielle managed to dissuade him.

Instead, Tyrion stared at the slowly rotating image.

"How long you going to stare at that thing, boss?" Hoskins offered as the last straggler squeezed into the cramped space.

Tyrion circled to the front of the table and seated himself on the table's edge as he faced everyone. His eyes paused again when he saw Freya next to Illis.

"We have several objectives," he began. "First, the defeat of Angmar. Second, disabling the power field trapping us here. And finally, getting our hands on a ship that can return us to the Arcum."

"What about the Yautja?" Prost raised his hand. "They have ships, right?"

"I don't want to count on them," Tyrion replied. "We have a truce for now, but that could change if the dampening field drops. They may just decide to bug out and leave us behind."

"You sure?" Nicolla asked.

Felix merely shrugged. "No, just paranoid."

"If Korbal and his people show up for the party at Angmar," Tyrion said. "That will help, but we can't plan on them showing up and bailing us out."

"We have to assume they're still in the area, don't we?" Freya asked. "They did draw first blood back down in the plains, after all. I doubt they just packed up and went home after that engagement."

"True," Tyrion agreed. "But, we don't know the disposition of their force. So, we have to go under the assumption that they will not be involved."

He stepped to the side of the holo and clasped his hands before him.

"First up, we have a couple of individual team assignments," He looked over at one of the team leaders. "Ranger Team Seven will deploy with myself and Sergeant Blaine. Our mission will be to locate the second dropship and recover it, along with any of the stolen supplies we can get our hands on."

The indicated team leader was a lean man, handsome, with angular features and a scar that ran the length of his left cheek. His eyes were blue and bright and his name was Baldar. His team had been gaining a reputation for precise, skilled work. Baldar was smiling.

"Very good, Master Chief," He nodded his head.

"Master Denethor," Tyrion went on, turning to face the young nobleman. "I want team six to provide close security for both kings once we're in place at the bridge. Do not leave their side, understood?"

"There may be an opportunity for parlay before fighting begins, Master Chief," Denethor offered. "If the kings are invited to the main gates of the citadel to meet with our enemy and discuss terms?"

"Then you'll go with them," Tyrion finished. "If this goes full tilt, and I expect it will, then expect both Eomer and Aragorn to be targeted directly, either by the opposing forces, or by Dade and his people. Remember, they have Dorn with them."

It was the first time Tyrion had mentioned Dade and his group of defectors and the whole room went very still. The defection of Dade and his followers was a blow to the pride of the entire unit, and it shamed them all. Only vengeance would clear that blemish on their honor.

"Both the Lord Eomer and the Lord Aragorn lead their troops from the front," Denethor continued. "Protecting them will be difficult."

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you, did you?" Tyrion smiled.

Denethor smiled as he nodded. "Understood, Master Chief."

Tyrion turned back and this time, the northern peak of the mountain illuminated.

"The rest of the teams, along with Xena and her contingent, of Gondorian infantry" he went on. "Will take our new hover mobile and deploy along the opposite face of the mountain." Tyrion indicated the mountainside opposite the citadel at the summit. "Team One will search for a secondary opening that leads to these paths at the summit of the city. Team Three will do the same for this northern opening."

It had been a battle to get Tyrion to agree that Illis's team should be one of the teams that reconnoitered the tunnels, and Illis had broached the subject when he learned of Freya's ideas. The ruse was fooling no one. Freya may not be the team leader by rank, but he, and everyone else in the tent, knew she was still the one calling the shots despite her reduction in status.

"The recon goal is to locate and exploit any potential access through the mountain, period" Tyrion went on.

"You'll drop on these two areas here," he indicated the drop zones, illuminated by red circles, then drew a line through the caves and to the two bridges that led to the citadel of Angmar. He returned to the indicated drop zones. "Try and maintain a zero presence profile and recon these areas for back doors onto the citadel level." He indicated an area near the drop zone. "If you can't locate one, or if breaching it is impractical, then bug out and signal for pickup."

Tyrion took a deep breath. "If one of the two entrances are practical, then that team will proceed thru and secure their access point."

"And the other team?" Xena asked.

"If we have a secure route of egress, then the team that doesn't open the tunnel will repel down to the summit and help secure the objective."

Gabrielle looked at the hologram and gauged the drop from the peak to the bridge.

"That's several hundred feet, at least," she whispered to Xena.

"Yep," Xena replied, her eyes focused on Tyrion.

"If we get confirmation that the tunnels are practical, then King Aragorn and King Eomer will be assailing the bridge with their forces, supported by myself, Hoss, Silas, Prost, Mavon, and the heavy artillery on the APC. Once the bridge is secured, the attack will move on to the main gate. Our goal is to breach the gate and move into the first ring of the city. That attack should have every troop in Angmar focused on stomping the shit out of us." Tyrion looked over at Illis and Xena. "Once we are engaged, the summit teams will take the citadel, locate and disable the dampening field, and hold position."

He looked at Illis.

"Team One," he continued. "I want you to coordinate Group West. Xena, you will command Group North."

"Yes, Master Chief," Illis replied before Freya could say anything. The young woman's mouth snapped shut.

"Understood," Xena replied.

Tyrion stared at Freya and Illis.

Illis was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of commanding the entire ranger force, while Freya looked eager. He sighed in resignation.

"Stand up, you two," They both rose, looking nervously around the room and Freya caught Gabrielle's eye. The bard smiled.

Tyrion fixed Freya with an accusing stare.

"Enough of this shit, Sneak. Everyone in here knows that you slid right back into command of your team the second I cut you loose," Tyrion said flatly. He saw Illis's fingers move towards the insignia pin on his chest. The young soldier froze.

Tyrion looked at the other team leaders. "Anyone in Group West have a problem with the brat from Cobblers Row running this op?"

There were soft chuckles among the team leaders in the room, but no one dissented.

Tyrion made a dismissive gesture towards the badge on Illis's chest. "Give it to her, Illis, we both know you never wanted it in the first place."

Without a word. Without even looking at each other, Illis released the catch on the small gold insignia badge that marked him as a team leader, and dropped it into Freya's open hand.

Laughter continued, and Freya fought to keep her own expression neutral, while Illis's expression was one of relief.

"If I may ask, Master Chief?" Freya asked quickly.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"I need someone willing to do just about anything to pull this mission off," Tyrion addressed the newly reinstated team leader, "and I know you're just crazy enough," Tyrion explained, avoiding Gabrielle and Xena's grins. "And besides, you've been running the show since you got back – against my standing orders." He had let his voice harden as he gazed at Illis. "So, since you've got it in your thick skull to do whatever the hell you want, I might as well support you since I can't fucking control you."

The laughter rose to a new crescendo and even Tyrion's harsh expression softened with the hint of a smile.

Freya blushed crimson.

"Alright!" Tyrion barked. "Settle down!" He waited for the laughter to fade and then his expression was all business. "Step and prep, people. Mountain assault and recovery teams be ready for deployment at 0330. Royal Security, check in with Lieutenant Moore. Doc, Gabby, I'm anticipating casualties when the party starts," He pointed at Felix. "I need you to coordinate medical on this end. Gabs, I need you with the mountain assault teams."

"Got it, Boss," Felix nodded. Gabrielle also nodded.

"Questions?" Tyrion finished. The room was silent.

Tyrion nodded. "Dismissed."

Everyone stood and a few of the other team leaders offered Freya pats on the shoulder in congratulations.

"Sneak!" Tyrion called as people began to file out. "A moment."

Freya stepped forward as the room cleared. The two faced each other across the holo display of the mountain fortress.

"Master Chief," she nodded.

"I want you to understand something," Tyrion said after the tent was empty. "Your only jobs are to recon the tunnel and secure that citadel."

"I understand," Freya asked.

"Nothing fancy on this one," Tyrion went on. "This is going to be where we grab them by the nose and kick them in the ass. I don't need you going rogue out there."

Freya nodded and a smile began to appear as she studied the hologram again. Tyrion saw the expression and leaned in close through the glowing image.

"I mean it," He hissed, "I want the tunnels reconned, breached if possible, and then if you can open an access way to the citadel, secure it. Then you batten down until otherwise instructed, understood?"

Freya nodded, surprised by his vehemence.

"Is that understood?" Tyrion repeated more sternly.

"Understood, Master Chief," Freya replied.

"Good," Tyrion stepped back around the table and stood before her. His eyes stayed locked on her as he moved.

"I mean it, Sneak," Tyrion said again. "No fucking around this time! What I did just now was political. It doesn't mean you're off the hook. You fuck up this much," He held his thumb and forefinger so close that they almost touched. "And I'll make you wish you'd never been born, understand?"

"I understand," Freya replied. There was a sincerity in her voice and expression that Tyrion had never seen before. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his intense stare. "I do, I swear it." She finally blurted. "On my honor, Master Chief."

He nodded, satisfied, handed her a data pad containing a copy of the plans, and dismissed her.

Wulflyn and Brunulfur found her an hour later, seated on the end of a fallen tree, the data pad on the ground between her feet and her head in her hands as she stared at the image.

They paused a discreet distance from her and waited as she remained, motionless for a very long time. Suddenly she took a deep breath, sitting upright and rubbing her eyes.

"Something vexing, I expect?" Wulflyn offered with a smile as he and Brunulfur seated themselves on either side of her.

"I've been staring at the western face of that mountain for an age," she offered in exasperation. She fell back along the trunk and let her arms splay out. "I'm looking all over, but I can't figure out where the entrance is on our section of the mountain. But it has to be there, right? It would be stupid to only have one way in or out!"

"May I?" Brunulfur asked, reaching for the data pad.

Freya nodded.

Brunulfur let out a soft murmur as his eyes scanned the face of the mountain critically. After about a minute, he nodded.

"There," he said, pointing with his finger at a raised spot on the mountain face.

Freya sat back up. "Where?"
Brunulfur indicated an area of the mountain. "There."

Freya looked at the area and then back up at the young man, her expression dubious.

"It's covered in snow, Brun," she said dubiously.

"True," Brunulfur nodded. "But I still know it is there."

"What are you saying?" Wulflyn asked.

"Whenever you create an opening in the mountain, you must also shore up the entrance with a structure," Brunulfur explained. "My father is a stonemason, you understand?"

"All right," Freya nodded cautiously.

Brunulfur looked between them and sighed, taking the data pad from Freya again and outlining the snowy area with his finger.

"When you build out from, or into a mountain, you deform the natural terrain. Either you create a vertical cut out, which leaves a depression, or you have to build a structure out. The former will leave an indentation, while the latter will create a deformation, just like this," he explained as he tapped his finger on a raised hump in the snow.

He pointed to the bottom of the mountain and the wide area of broken rock and shingle at its base. "This side of the mountain is relatively smooth, yes?"

The others nodded slowly.

"So," Brunulfur continued. "Then this entire face of the mountain should be consistently smooth, as stone and snow from above flows towards the base. And right in the middle of this flat surface is a single large hump of snow? That indicates a structure built out from the mountain itself, which was typical of this era. It may only be ruins, but," he smiled, warming to his theory. "It's the right size for a small, gated entrance, if I were to build one."

He continued to study the image and began tracing his finger along a zig zag route down towards the base of the mountain. "See the placement of these trees further down? And this layer of old rubble just in front of it?" he continued, his finger moving between the trees. "I'll bet you three pints that there is an ancient trail or road, buried beneath the snow along here, and that trail was laid when the entrance was originally created."

Freya and Wulflyn were both nodding now.

Brunulfur traced the route back up to the hump and then tapped his finger on the screen again. "There, or nothing!"

"Well," Wulflyn nodded. "I am convinced."

Freya nodded.
"Thanks, Brun," she said. She shifted the view and began studying another portion of the mountain.

"What is this?" a voice called. The three of them looked up to see the remaining two members of their team coming towards them.

All of them saw the barely hidden delight in Freya's expression when she saw Illis.

She cleared her throat. "Council of War."

"Council of War? And we were not invited?" Illis let a hurt tone enter his voice. "You wound me, Lady."

"In her defense," Guthbrandur offered, patting Illis on the shoulder. "You were just demoted."

Illis, smiling, looked down at the data pad. "May I?" he extended his hand.

Freya handed him the device and he studied the data on the screen.

Illis looked down at her and frowned. "What are all these notes about the face of the mountain opposite the citadel? If we can locate the cave entrance, we should be able to advance easily enough?"

"I was just thinking," Freya began.

"Oh, save us!" Guthbrandur blurted out in mock surprise.

Illis crouched down before her and nodded. "About?"

Freya looked into his eyes and slowly, she began to smile.

Two days later, the wide open ground gave way to more rocky terrain. The Ithillien Rangers had been sent ahead to look for enemy pickets, but none had been found.

The mass of men, horses, and equipment slowly squeezed its way onto the narrow paths that rose into the mountains so that the entire army seemed an endless line of men, slowly winding its way through valleys and along cliff faces. Prime infantry, led by Xena – with Gabrielle at her side, made up the first long procession of men, followed by the mounted cavalry, reduced now to walking their horses. Behind them came the royal contingent, with the two king's, their royal guards, the remainder of Tyrion's people and the team of rangers assigned as security for the two rulers. And finally, the remaining Infantry, and then the long trail of animals, tinkers, tradesmen, and the various flotsam and jetsam that attach itself to travelling armies.

As Xena looked back, she was amused to find that the length of the follower's procession was nearly the same length as the actual fighting force.

As they marched through the narrow passes, the shadow of a massive tower began to emerge. When the actual bastions revealed themselves on the afternoon of the fourth day, Gabrielle was awestruck by the imposing sight. The city rose before the sheer wall of the cliff. At its summit, two pointed spires curved up from the flat peak where the main keep stood, looking like a pair of giant fangs. The entire edifice was varying shades of black and grey, with the central city shimmering, as if made from polished onyx. Within the walled and bastions, pale orange and blue lights could be seen in the windows of decrepit houses. As the light continued to fade, a single column of pale illumination pulsed as it extended from the pinnacle of the fortress tower, vanishing into the clouds.

The air was filled with a dull thrumming that was more felt than heard by the company.

Gabrielle shivered.

Xena looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?

"Yeah," Gabrielle nodded absently. "I was just thinking about that bath house in Minas Tirith."

Xena frowned. "What made you think of that?
Gabrielle didn't take her eyes off the citadel. "Because I want to be back there, right now."

Xena offered a reassuring smile. "We'll be alright. Just stay close."

"Oh, no problem," Gabrielle nodded. "No problem at all."

The narrow path opened onto a wide shelf where the forces of Gondor began to set their camp. A short distance away was the entrance arch of the bridge that spanned the chasm between the shelf and the main gates of Angmar. As the army dispersed onto the area, the four massive trolls standing vigil slowly moved the massive pinions and took up the chains. Their eyes remained fixed on the expanding camp.

Several miles back on the trail, the teams of rangers under the command of Freya and Xena boarded the crippled dropship and lurched into the sky, beginning the circuitous route around to the hidden side of the mountain.

Freya checked her seat harness and then looked over at Xena, who paled visibly as the ship lurched and bounced.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Gabrielle, always at the Warrior Princess's side, looked over at her best friend.

"She doesn't like flying," she grinned.

Freya grinned back as Xena closed her eyes and gripped the chair with whitened knuckles.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, Nicolla's voice rang out over the intercom. "Stand by to deploy. Two minutes to Drop Zone West."

The ship slowed to a hover, turned and dropped towards a gentle slope on the face of the mountain.

"Assault Team West, sixty seconds," Nicolla ordered.

Freya and her half of the assault force stood, checked their gear and moved to the rear hatch.

The vessel slid into position over the designated zone. The off world Rangers stepped to the hatch and released the long lines that snaked down to the snow below, then, with two men covering the area from above, the dropped along the ropes to the ground below, followed by several parcels of equipment.

Freya looked up at Nicolla as the last man hit the ground. Then the lines fell away, dropping to the ground. Freya gave Nicolla a wave, and the big ship drifted away, heading for the second drop location.

"Assault Team West, deployed," Freya called over the com. She raised a hand above her head and indicated the direction of the supposed gate. The men collected their gear and moved out, their footprints marring the smooth snow of the mountain.

Later, she head Xena's voice over the com. "Team North has been deployed."

Now it was, in Freya's mind, a race. Whichever team breached the back doors and was able to reach the citadel would win. She shouted at her men to move faster as they scouted for the raised area Brunulfur had indicated.

Once they found the raised mound of snow, the men immediately attacked the location with their shovels. It wasn't long before the outline of an arched entrance began to appear.

Brunulfur smiled. "I knew it!"

The men chipped at the snow and ice until the entrance, long sealed and covered by debris, was finally exposed.

The debris was not large but packed in so thickly, that digging it out would take longer than they could permit. Freya sighed.

"Looks like we're going to the top, boys," she offered, pointing to the summit. She tapped her com.

"Xena," she called. "Our entrance is no good from this side. How are you doing?"

Xena responded. "We're making progress. We should have that door open in a couple of hours."

"Lucky you," Freya replied grinning. "Good fortune." She looked over to see Illis staring at her, a knowing expression on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't pretend you're unhappy about that gate," Illis smiled. "You're just dying to repel down that cliff."

"I am not," Freya shot back.

He stepped up and smiled as he looked into her eyes. "Don't deceive me. I know you."

"We're not close enough for you to know me that well," Freya retorted, smiling. She pushed past him and continued up the slope.

"I'm willing to remedy that," Illis replied, though not loud enough for her to hear him.

The remainder of the armies of Gondor and Rohan emerged from the mountain path onto a large flat shelf that looked out across a deep gorge to the walls and bastions of the ancient city of Angmar. The city glistened wetly in the gray light, rising dark and ominous before the lighter gray of the cliffs beyond.

Aragorn and Eomer sat their horses and surveyed the ancient city, so similar to Minas Tirith, and at the same time, so different.

Footfalls sounded behind them and they turned to see Denethor approaching.

"Master Denethor?" Aragorn asked.

"Orders from Master Chief Darquefyre, My Lords," Denethor saluted the two rulers.

"Two of my men shall be at your side, always, My King," Denethor explained. "And my other two shall always be at your side, Sire," he turned to Eomer, who now sat astride his horse. "As for me. I shall stand between you and divide my attention."

"Your men best find mounts," Eomer replied with a rueful smile.

Denethor smiled and nodded past the king of Rohan.

Four men in the modern uniforms of the New Ithillien Rangers trotted up to rest on either side of the two kings.

Surprised, Eomer recognized the men assigned to him as men selected from his own royal bodyguard.

"You appear to have come full circle," he offered. The two men grinned.

Baldar leaned out to look through the viewport as Nicolla piloted their crippled ship to his drop location. On the initial sweep, Nicolla had reported a low energy spike that was later identified as a photo reactive camouflage net.

Tyrion watched as the other team members meticulously checked their equipment. Baldar seemed to sense that he was being observed. He turned looked over to the Master Chief and offered a half smile.

"Standby for deployment," Nicolla's voice called over the speakers. "Ninety seconds."

Weapons were snapped together and the men all stood, checking the gear strapped to their bodies as they moved towards the exit hatch.

"Just like old times, eh boss?" Hoskins looked back at the others and grinned.

The ship slowed to a hover, twenty meters from the ground and drop lines snaked earthward, quickly followed by the men.

They were down in under a minute, the first men creating a secure perimeter as they landed.

Tyrion and Hoskins were the last two on the ground. "Clear!" Tyrion called over the com.

The ropes fell from the ship and it arced away, vanishing over a nearby crag of rock.

Three men quickly wound and stowed the ropes in their packs.

The world around them was stony and lifeless, dominated by sharp rock and fallen boulders.

"You always take us to the nicest places, Chief," Hoskins offered as he looked around.

Tyrion offered him a sidelong glance and then checked his compass.

"Enemy camp is three klik's southwest," he said, pointing in that direction. Then he indicated a section of higher ground off to their right. "Baldar, I want a sniper covering us from the high ground."

"Aye," Baldar nodded, then turned to another member of the team. "Guthben, go."

The man nodded, shouldered his rifle, and sprinted up a steep incline.

Baldar stepped over to Tyrion. "The terrain will work against us, Master Chief."

Tyrion studied the apocalyptic landscape and nodded. "We may wind around a bit. Better get moving."

Hoskins was still looking up at where Guthben had vanished. The young man, encumbered by all his equipment, had sprinted easily out of sight.

"I could do that," he commented gruffly.

Tyrion smiled as he moved after the others. "Twenty years ago."

Hoskins raised a single finger towards Tyrion's back, then lit his cheroot and followed.

The dropship landing area, when they finally located it, was a small flat area in a shallow depression that was surrounded by jagged black rock.

The team crept forward in line, with the sniper, Guthben remaining unseen somewhere above in the craggy landscape.

"Ben," Tyrion called quietly. "What have you got?"

"The vessel is in sight," Guthben reported in a soft whisper. "The pilot, and nine others, all wildmen. Standard melee equipment. They're set in a triangular watch configuration. They have eyes on the area and each other at all times."

"What about ordinance and supplies?" Tyrion continued.

There was a delay before Guthben spoke.

"There are several crates unloaded, and one of the APC vehicles parked nearby," he said. "Vehicle looks undamaged, and powered down. Crates look like a mix of aircraft ordinance and small arms.

Hoskins crouch beside Tyrion. "Hard and fast?" he offered.

Tyrion nodded. "Ben, lock onto the target furthest from the east line. Fire on my signal."

"Understood," The sniper replied. Then a moment later, "Target acquired."

Tyrion looked back at Baldar and then held up two fingers before pointing to his left and then to his right.

Baldar nodded and indicated that two of his men move to the south, then he and the remaining man moved to the north and vanished.

Hoskins bit down hard on the stub of his cheroot and grinned. "Show time."

They crept to the edge of the cleared area. Checked their weapon settings.

"Set," Tyrion whispered. The word repeated thrice in his ear.

Tyrion waited two heartbeats. "Go!"

There was a single report, and they were moving. Their weapons up and swinging left and right as they scanned for targets.

Another quick series of shots sounded off to their left, and the familiar, "Target down" echoed in his ear.

Tyrion and Hoskins cleared a series of crates and saw the dropship. The vessel looked intact, except for the missing rear canopy, which had blown off during Iesha's escape. They also saw the figure sprinting for the loading ramp. Tyrion raised his weapon, but Hoskins released his rifle and, in a move so fast that it astonished the members of Baldurs team, his pistol snapped out of the holster at his hip and discharged. The runner's leg skidded sideways as the pulse impacted his knee. He went down with a cry of pain and rolled back down the ramp to the stone ground.

They were on him in a moment, just as he reached for his own weapon.

"Son," Hoskins growled, his weapon level with Marton's head. "You ain't that fast."

Marton slowly raised his hands and allowed Tyrion to relieve him of his sidearm. His right knee was a bloody mass of cauterized tissue. Tyrion immediately gave him a field injection to numb the wound and stop the bleeding.

"Clear?" Tyrion shouted. The word was repeated from the others.

Tyrion checked his chrono and his eyebrows rose in surprise. After just twenty-four seconds, Beck was down and captured, the contingent of warriors, that Baldar had identified as 'wild men', were dead, and the dropship was theirs.

"Secure the perimeter," Tyrion ordered.

Hoskins pistol spun on his finger several times before sliding back into the holster at his hip. He leaned down and grabbed a handful of Beck's jacket. "Did you mess with my bird, boy?" he growled.

Beck shook his head.

Hoskins smiled and then dragged the crippled pilot around the ramp and slid him beneath the fuselage.

"If you done messed with anything, then this ship is going to flatten your scrawny ass, and I'm going to watch," he snarled. "So tell me true. Did you mess with my bird?"

"Swear to it, Hoss," Marton cried. "I didn't do anything to it!"

Two men had the camo top removed and stowed in short order and Tyrion vanished into the vessel. A few moments later, the engines began to spool up.

They all waited for something to happen, but the vessel simply came to life.

Once the engines were at idle, Tyrion appeared on the loading ramp.

"Load up!" he ordered. "Secure the prisoner!"

He nodded to Hoskins, "Get that APC loaded up, Hoss."

"Got it, Chief," Hoss threw a casual salute and jogged over to the armored vehicle.

"What about the gear?" Baldar asked, indicating the APC and the crates.

Tyrion considered for a moment. "If it looks clean, load it up. Two minute window, then blow the rest!"

Baldar nodded and smiled as he turned back to his team. "Two minutes, men. Grab what we can! Go!"

The second APC did check out and Hoskins quickly backed it onto the ramp. A few minutes later, the ship lifted gracefully from the clearing and sped south.

As they lifted away, they spied a darker mass moving among the crags below. Armored faces looked up and cried out in fury. Angmar had sent a detachment of troops to secure the vehicle. Unfortunately, they had arrived too late to prevent the recovery.

"Timing is everything," Hoskins spat the remnants of his cheroot out of the exposed area where the rear canopy and seat should have been. Tyrion raised his chrono and showed him the assault time.

He grinned and returned to the cargo hold, looking at the members of Team Six. "Not bad, boys," he pulled a flask from his combat vest and took a long pull before passing it to the next man. "Not bad at all."

The four mountain trolls, massive in their dirty iron armor stood with hands on huge pinions. The ones closest to the party did not move to attack, nor did they abandon their posts.

Instead, each of them renewed their grasp on massive iron hoops that held the support pinions in place. Their dull eyes watched the party for any movement towards the bridge.

"This is one of the few remaining remnants of the ancient builders from the early years of the Third Age." Legolas commented. "In Sindarin, the name Angmar means, the "Iron Home". He finished, looking at the imposing dull gray walls.

"Always the cheerful one, you are," Gimli snorted. His eyes were locked on one of the massive trolls.

Aragorn smiled.

"So," Felix offered after a few minutes of studying the walls and the guardians on the bridge. "Here we are?"

"Patience, Master Felix," Aragorn replied.

Felix stood up in the saddle, stretched and scanned the bridge works again. "This is effing ridiculous!"

On the opposite side of the valley, a sliver of pale light appeared in the center of the massive gates, and the sound of metal clanking and stone grinding echoed across the void as one of the massive gates slowly swung outward.

The party walked their horses to the edge of the bridge, with Denethor's team to either side and in front of the leaders.

The two trolls stood ready to plunge themselves and the party into the depths below.

A lone figure on horseback emerged from the gate and walked the horse deliberately to the center of the bridge. He and the beast were both gaunt, almost skeletal. The leather and tack of the beast was dark gray and black, while the riders robes, though once rich and fine, now appeared like tattered rags. On his head was an ornate headpiece, almost a crown in its own right. The ornament covered his head down to his nose and obscured his eyes.

Cautiously, Aragorn and his party began walking their horses forward to meet the emaciated figure.

"The Mouth," Legolas noted in surprise. His eyes were sharper than the others and he instantly recognized the dark ambassador.

"I thought we ended that creature," Gimli grimaced, reaching for his axe haft.

"We ended the Mouth of Sauron," Aragorn said. "This is the Mouth of Angmar, the ambassador of the Witch King."

"He is here to parley for his master," Eomer frowned. "Believe nothing he says."

They slowed to a halt before the gaunt figure and the faceless mask seemed to observe each member of the party despite his eyes being covered. His mouth was unnaturally large, and filled with long, sharp, black teeth.

"I am the Mouth of Angmar," he said, turning his quick gaze on Aragorn. "Aide of the Witch King, the Ruler of the Nine, Scourge of the Pelannor, the Bane of the North, and Right Hand of Mordor. Who are these that come begging at my Master's door?"

"Begging?" Denathor's eyebrows rose.

"Where is your master?" Aragorn asked sternly.

This time, the Mouth did snort in amusement. "My Master does not have the time or patience to bandy words with beggars at his gate. Say what you will to me."

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn began. "High King of Gondor and Arnor. With me is Eomer, son of Eomund, King of Rohan. With me also is Gimli, son of Gloin of the Dwarves, and Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood."

The Mouth laughed. "Thranduil of Mirkwood? His kin have long since abandoned these lands. He has no place here, neither the dwarf, whose kingdom lies far to the east, where his kin have usurped control of lands once controlled by Lord Sauron through subterfuge and lies. They have no voice in this discord!" His face turned and locked upon Felix. "Neither do these strangers without lands or lords! Send them thither, ere we speak!"

"These are valued friends and council," Aragorn's voice was tight. "They shall stay, and they shall hear."

The Mouth seemed to consider for a moment.

"I shall tolerate them, for the present," He finally agreed.

"How gracious," Felix muttered.

"But they shall not speak!" the Mouth turned his countenance upon him. Then with deliberation, the head turned, in human fashion, to fix upon Aragorn. "Even thy ally of Rohan has no part in this discord, his lands being far removed from your own, and unsullied."

"Unsullied?" Eomer growled. "Your agents assailed our lands, burned villages, slaughtered men, women and children," his eyes were hard. "Laid siege to my own halls, and you dare say this to me? Your agents in the fastness of Isengard were responsible for those atrocities, were they not?"

"I know not what you speak of, King of Horses," His voice slowed so that the word "horses" actually sounded dangerously like "whores". "My master has no interest in the lands of the Eolingas. Hold your tongue!"

"Rohan did come under attack by your agents in the south," Aragorn said evenly. "As a precursor to sending thieves to rob the vaults of Minas Tirith."

"Thieves?" The Mouth interrupted. The huge mouth smiled in amusement. "You dare accuse my master of thievery? Was it not you – upstart King of Gondor – who stole the crown of Angmar from the Fields of the Pelannor? After your theft, you secreted your stolen trophy deep in the vaults of Minas Tirith? Did you not then deny my master his own rightful property, forcing him to reclaim it by other means? Now you stand here, after marching your army deep into my master's lands taking what resources you wish, intent on conquest, and you dare call us thieves?" The deep gravelly voice was filled with outrage.

Aragorn fixed the diplomat with a hard stare. "These lands are a part of the ancient realm of Arnor, which is under my protection." He began, but the Mouth cut him off.

"At one time, perhaps," his oversized mouth flashed a sharp, toothy grin. "But that age has passed, and these lands, south to the great road, from the mountains to the sea have been under the rule of my master for half an age. You cannot abandon your charge and reclaim it when the mood suits you, King of Gondor. Nor will my master swear fealty to one who marches before his house, so armed."

The Mouth eased his decrepit horse closer. "My master will, however, discuss terms in order to avoid needless bloodshed," he offered.

Aragorn and Eomer exchanged a glance.

"We will hear them," Eomer nodded.

"The armies of the south will withdraw to the plains of Hollin after first swearing oaths never to raise arms against my Master," the Mouth stated emphatically. "All lands south to the Gap of Rohan and West to the sea shall fall under the protection of Angmar, including the settlements of Hen and Halflings – though they will have leave to travel and govern themselves as they wish."

Aragorn's face remained set in stone, however, Eomer gave a soft chuckle of astonishment.

"Is that all, then?" he scoffed.

The Mouth's head turned to face the King of Rohan.

"It is not," he shot back. Then he looked again towards Aragorn.

"Since the elves have abandoned Middle Earth, the port city of Mithlond shall fall under the control of my Master and he shall be permitted to garrison the city as he wishes, though, the residents shall be permitted to remain there, under the protection of Angmar."

"The Grey Havens?" Legolas blurted, outraged.

Felix couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Let me get this straight," he interrupted. "You're trying to negotiate a land grab?"

"You have no place in this parley!" The Mouth snapped.

"What parley?" Felix muttered under her breath just loudly enough to be heard

"The King's pets should know their place," The Mouth turned its sightless gaze towards Aragorn.

Denethor walked his horse around to the opposite side of the king.

"He has a point, highness," he offered to Aragorn. Then he stared hard at the gaunt diplomat, and a smile began to show.

"You're stalling," he finally said.

"Silence!" The Mouth snapped.

Denethor looked between the King and the Mouth, and then saw the pale green dot appear on Aragorn's chest.

"Sniper!" he roared as he lunged forward and grabbed a handful of the diplomat's moldering robes, yanking him sideways just as the bolt sizzled through the air. The back of the diplomat's head burst in a spray of black mist as the shot – which had been aimed for Aragorn – expended its energy on the skeletal Mouth of Angmar.

"Back! Back!" Felix shouted.

Denethor and his team moved their horses in front of the two rulers and the whole group turned, galloping for the far end of the bridge.

"Snipers!" Felix called over the com. "Execute!"

Even as the four monstrous trolls moved to throw down the bridge, a series of shots from concealed Rangers impacted the heads of the beasts, they staggered, dropped, twitched, and died.

Another shot whip cracked into the party and one of Denethor's men went down, a hole sizzling in his back.

"That's got to be Dorn!" Felix shouted as a third shot passed his head, and a fourth dropped one of the horses, spilling it's rider on the stone road. "Find that son of a bitch!"

Denethor reigned his horse, spinning it and galloping back for the fallen man. He clasped the man's outstretched hand, swinging him up on the back of the horse before turning again and racing after the king's party.

Freya watched in horror as the shots flashed around the royal party. She focused her spotters glasses trying to trace the shots back to their point of origin, cursing as she did so, then she looked at the others perched on the edge for the precipice, preparing their ropes for the descent to the citadel below.

"Locate that slimy bastard!" Freya barked.

"Shot came from somewhere near the citadel!" Someone reported. "I can't see him!"

"Bastard has an entire city to hide in!" Someone else added.

Freya looked at her team. "Wulf, Guth, Brun, help find that sniper! Illis, with me!"

The two of them ran along the line towards the drop off over the western path that led to the citadel.

Freya and Illis changed to a different position and peeked over the edge to scan the area below. The citadel was a large, walled edifice, with massive bastions and towers that reached like black fingers to the sky. In its center was the main keep, which seemed to be hewn out of a single piece of shining black obsidian. It rose six stories high, topped by a large two pronged tower that pulsed with energy.

The team held their binoculars to their eyes surveyed the area.

"I don't see a lot of movement," Brunulfur offered as he panned his glasses along the western wall. "No sentries to be seen."

Guthbrandur also checked the area in front of the main entrance to the citadel and the streets nearby. "Very quiet," he began and then froze as he caught a reflection of something below. "Wait a moment," he started, then there was a flash, and Guthbrandur's head seemed to burst at the back. The shot had penetrated the lens of his glasses and blasted through his left eye. He recoiled back and fell, his remaining eye staring at the sky, a shocked expression on his face.

"Down!" Freya hissed as they all dropped out of sight. "Where did that come from?"

Someone replied that they thought the shot had emerged from a cluster of ruined wall near the front of the citadel itself.

Freya slid down to Guthbrandur's body and stopped when she saw the damage to his face. She closed his remaining eye and placed a hand over his heart as she bowed her head and muttered a quick prayer for her friend. Once her prayer was done, she removed his poncho and gently draped it over the body.

When she returned to the others, her expression was grim.

"What are they thinking right now?" she asked, as if to herself.

"They may only assume we have a spotter teams up here," Illis offered. "They can't know about the entire force mustered up here."

"Or they may not think there are two forces up here," Wulflyn added.

"We need to keep Dorn occupied with us while Xena sneaks her force in from the north," Bunulfur agreed.

"We need to take Dorn out," Wulflyn said in a flat even voice. He lifted his sniper rifle and checked it over. He began wrapping white cloth around the barrel and body of the weapon.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Bunulfur asked.

"I shall shoot him," Wulflyn replied.

"You'll have to find him first," Illis pointed out.

Freya looked up at Wulflyn. "You need something to draw him out, right?"

Wulflyn nodded.

"What are you thinking?" Brunulfur asked.

Illis looked into Freya's eyes and saw the intent.

"You're mad," he breathed. "Do you know that?"

Freya held his gaze, and her expression said it all.

Freya touched her com. "Team West, hold position for now. Xena? How are things on your end?"

"We're opening the gates now," Gabrielle's voice replied. "These gates haven't been used in centuries."

She tapped her com. "Xena, Dorn is somewhere near the southwest corner of the summit citadel."

"I understand," Xena replied. "We should be moving shortly."

"Let me know when you're through to the other end of the tunnel," Freya called back. "But stay out of sight."

"Right," Xena replied.

Wulflyn and Brunnulfur, now covered in a white cloth, trudged off south to locate a good position from which to spot Dorn.

Meanwhile, Illis and Freya climbed cautiously to the peak again, staying just below the edge of the precipice and out of sight. Once there, Freya began fastening her repelling harness.

"This is a bad plan," Illis opined as he helped her secure the harness. "You know that right?"

"Wulf is right. We need to take Dorn out," Freya cinched her waist strap. "And to do that, we need to know where he is."

"So you're going to hang off the side of a mountain just so he can shoot you?" Illis countered.

Freya shrugged. "Shoot at me, yes."

He let out some exasperated sound and then turned her face to face his.

"What are you still trying to prove?" he asked, echoing what almost everyone in the unit believed.

"If we all come over that cliff and Dorn sees us," Freya replied hotly. "Then the whole mission is shot. He can raise an alarm, never mind picking a bunch of us off as we come down."

"So, why does it always have to be you?" Illis shot back angrily.

"It's my idea," Freya replied with another shrug.

Illis was about to respond when he saw the way she was threading the repelling line into her harness.

"Wait a moment. That's not right," he frowned.

Freya smiled. "Something Mavon showed me during our repelling classes."

"But if you set it up this way," Illis went on. The realization hit him and he put a hand over hers.

"No," he said emphatically. "It's too dangerous. Once you start, there's no turning back. I won't allow it!"

She shoved his hand aside and finished setting up her rig.

"Help me, or leave," she shot back at him.

They locked eyes for a long moment, and Illis saw the pleading in that gaze. He sighed.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to throw me over the edge," Freya replied, deadpan.

Illis's eyes went wide. "What?"

"Wulf," Freya called on the com. "Are you ready?"

"In position," Wulf replied.

"Xena?" She called.

"We're at the mouth of the tunnel," Xena replied. "Ready when you are."

Freya nodded and scooted up on top of Illis.

"I need you to throw me over the edge," Freya said again.

Illis crouched down, lacing his fingers. Freya placed her foot in his hands and gathered the coil of rope, ready to throw it as she was sent over the edge.

She looked down at him and smiled. "Thank you, Illis."

"Thank me by not getting killed," Illis replied. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, and then, in a surge of emotion, Freya grabbed the back of his head and kissed him fiercely.

When they parted, he looked at her with a shocked smile on his face.

"When this is over," Illis smiled. "There are some things I wish to discuss with you."

"Me as well," she smiled and nodded. "Now!"

Still reeling from the passion in that one contact, he heaved with all his strength and sent the smaller woman flying up and over the edge.

At the same moment, Freya hurled the coiled repelling line before her, sending it spiraling down the face of the cliff.

The jerk of the line going taught behind her, squeezed her waist painfully and she caught her breath as her feet hit the sheer face of the cliff. Then she was off, legs pumping as she ran straight down the face of the mountain towards the western bridge.

The army was marching across the bridge towards the gates of the city, as they reached the half-way point, the city gates opened and a horde of orcs burst out, howling and screaming, with weapons raised.

Aragorn and Eomer, two kings who always led from the front, held up their hands and the army halted. Aragorn smiled and looked at Eomer. "If you please, My Lord?"

Eomer smiled as he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Shield wall!" he roared.

Immediately the first row of men ran several steps past the two monarchs, interlinked their shields and dropped into a crouch while the second row followed, reached over and added to the wall, their spears jutting out between the small gaps in the shields. A third row of men stepped forward and held their shields up, protecting the heads of the other two rows.

The orcs slammed into the human wall, howling and hacking at the thick oak shields.

Eomer's voice roared from the din. "Strike!"

Then the first row of enemy fell as the spears lanced out.

"Forward!" Eomer ordered, and the entire formation took two strides forward.

"Strike!" Eomer called again, and again the spears lanced out, piercing shields, armor, and flesh.

Another bellow and the formation took two more steps forward.

Hoskins watched the engagement with morbid fascination. The entire army was making its way slowly across the bridge. He saw the first line give a mighty push, hurling the orcs back in another spray of blood. Then the front line retired and three more rows of men reformed the shield wall just ahead of Aragorn and Eomer.

"Now that's fucking brilliant," Hoskins commented. Tyrion raised his glasses and watched for a few moments.

"Hoss," Tyrion said a few moments later. "Hoss, see the edge of the ridge there about two hundred yards from the bridge entrance?"

Hoskins panned his glasses away from the battle and spied the small outcropping. "I see it."

"Get one of the APC's there and start hitting those bastards from the flank," Tyrion instructed. "Let's see if we can take some pressure off of Aragorns people. This where we hold them by the nose and kick them in the ass!"

Hoskins looked back at the battle on the bridge and smiled. "On it, Boss."

"Uh, Chief?" Silas said from behind him. "You might want to check this out."

"What have you got?" Tyrion asked as he turned to stand beside his friend.

Silas handed him the glasses. "On the north face, west of the tower, near the peak," Silas explained. "Tell me I ain't seeing what I'm seeing?"

Tyrion raised the glasses and scanned the cliff face. It took a few moments before he spied the single figure, like a tiny spider, seeming to run down the face of the cliff, trailing a repelling line. Puffs of snow or stone burst around her as energy bolts sizzled near.

"What the hell?" Tyrion zoomed in on the errant figure and saw the red hair blowing in the wind. His stomach contracted in alarm. He tapped the com. "Sneak?"

"Yes, Master Chief?" Freya replied a little breathlessly. As a bolt impacted the cliff wall to her right.

"Something you want to tell me?" Tyrion kept his voice flat.

"Just out for a stroll, Master Chief," she answered. She leapt to the side and felt the heat of another bolt sizzle past her head.

"You gave me your word, you little shit!" Tyrion called to Freya angrily.

Freya smiled as she jinked to her left. At the same moment, she felt something hot flash past her head and the rock beneath her burst from a high energy impact.

"Anyone see where that came from?" she called out, swerving back to the right as another sniper shot came too close.

"I have him!" someone called.

"Southwest corner of the citadel, in the rubble!" another one reported.

"Xena!" Freya puffed, "Go now!"

She released the braking line and plummeting twenty feet as another shot whip-cracked behind her.

Then she saw it. The tangle in her repelling line. She slowed as another shot flashed past her eyes and exploded at her feet, causing her to leap to her right.

"Gabrielle!" Xena pointed to the area Dorn had been spotted. "You look over that way!" Gabrielle, along with a group of Rangers spread out as Xena moved into the rubble field.

The ground was littered with large chunks of rock, the ruins of ancient temples or tombs and remnants from the excavation that had created the summit fortress of Angmar.

"Where are you," Xena muttered to herself as she cautiously searched.

"Find him fast!" Freya called, and for the first time, Xena heard fear in the young woman's voice.

"Freya?" Gabrielle called. "What's wrong?"

They all heard the report of the shot nearby, echoing among the stones.

"Where the hell is he?" Xena cursed.

"I have him, Xena," Wulflyn replied calmly. "Thirty meters West of you."

"Hurry!" Freya called.

She slid to a stop and saw the tangle of rope before her, just as another shot exploded against the cliff below her. She tried shaking the tangle out of the line with her free hand.

Another shot grazed her left shoulder and she fell forward, the harness adding to the tangle on the line and she hung there, stuck - an easy target.

"I'm hung up!" Freya wrestled with the tangled line. "I'm hung up!"

She jumped to the side as another shot pelted the stone beneath her.

"South, fifteen meters," Wulflyn reported. "I do not have a shot."

"Got it," Xena whispered. She pointed to Gabrielle and then indicated that the bard should sweep around and come towards the sniper from the south while she approached from the other side.

"Ten meters," Wulflyn reported.

Illis listened as Freya's cries and grunts carried over the com channel. He could picture her wrestling with the rappelling rope, at the same time, she tried to desperately keep moving, tried to keep herself from being an easy target.

"Bloody hell," He cursed as he quickly secured another line and threaded it through his harness. Once he was ready, he hurled the rope he rolled over the edge.

He let himself freefall till he was clear and then tightened the brake line, kicking off of the cliff and letting himself drop another thirty feet.

"I can't see him," Xena hissed. Her eyes scanned the area, her senses primed. She was good at concealing herself from enemies, but this was amazing.

"Hold fast, Freya," Illis called. "I'm coming!"

He could see her, far down the wall of the cliff, wrestling with the rope and moving back and forth.

"Shoot at me," he thought to himself, almost trying to will it. "Shoot at me."

Wulflyn blinked, frowning as he stared through his rifle scope. "He's gone?"

Xena and Gabrielle both froze in mid step.

"Gone?" Gabrielle hissed. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Don't panic, Gabrielle," Xena hissed. "Keep looking. Just be careful."

Gabrielle sighed and continued moving through the rubble.

In the ruins of an ancient temple behind her, the muzzle of a sniper rifle slowly extended to the edge of a crack in the wall. the rest of the weapon and the figure wielding it, hidden in shadow.

Wulflyn panned his scope over the area where Xena, Gabrielle, and the rest of the northern assault team were scouring the area, looking for Dorn.

When the normal spectrum revealed nothing, he switched to a thermal view, scanning the area again, watching the heat sources as they swept forward in their search. He forced his mind to remain calm and began whispering to himself, but his voice carried over the open com channel.

"This is my weapon. There are many like it, but this one is mine," Wulflyn whispered absently as his finger gently closed around the trigger. "I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my weapon is useless. Without my weapon, I am useless."

His thermal scan passed over Xena, moving south slowly as he sought for any hint of their adversary.

"I must fire my weapon true. I will shoot straighter than the enemy who is trying to kill me. I will shoot him before he shoots me," Wulflyn stopped panning and went back. In a small crack on a ruined wall, he caught a hint of orange.

"That sounded encouraging," Gabrielle offered as she continued poking about.

"Hold." Wulflyn said, and instantly, all movement on the western side of the citadel ceased.

"What's going on Wulflyn?" Xena asked as her eyes searched the area around her.

Wulflyn zoomed in on the errant heat spot and saw the distinct shape of a rifle muzzle as it was cooling.

"Xena, thirty meters south of your position, there is a ruined wall," Wulflyn said quietly. "Proceed with caution to the east side of that structure. and check for sniper nest Three meters up."

"On my way," Xena hissed and she turned south. She immediately saw the ruined temple wall and began to back track her way around to the east side of the ruin, motioning for several of her men to close on that area.

Illis slid to a stop next to Freya as she hung, facing towards the path below.

He marveled that there had been no further shots directed his way.

"I'm here," he reached over and grabbed Freya's shoulder.

"Get out of here!" Freya shot back.

Looking down, Illis judged they were about four stories from the cobbled path that led to the west side of the citadel wall. He also saw that Freya's line was hopelessly tangled.

"Take hold!" he ordered the girl, grabbing her arms and pulling them up around his neck.

Their faces were inches apart, and he drew out his knife.

"Don't let go," he instructed as he sawed away at her line. The tangled knot fell away, and she hung with him, holding onto him as he began to drop towards the ground below.

At the same time they resumed their descent, Wulflyn's voice burst across the com channel.

"Gabrielle! Sniper behind you!" It cried urgently. "Drop! Drop! Drop!"

The report of a single shot echoed from the ruins.

"Gabrielle?" Wulflyn's voice called over the com. "Gabrielle? Are you all right?"

Dorn slid back from his perch, smiling until his foot brushed against something. Slowly, his head turned to look behind him, and discovered Xena looking down at him, eyes cold.

"Hi there," Xena smiled.

He panicked, reaching for his sidearm and drawing it in one quick movement, however, Xena moved faster and her sword flashed in the pale light as he raised his pistol to point at her.

Dorn's hand, the pistol still clutched in its fingers, went wheeling away to land among the broken stones.

He rolled away, hugging the bloody stump to his chest as his rifle fell to the ground.

"Hold him!" Xena ordered as she ran towards where Gabrielle had been searching.

She ran around the ruined structure, eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Gabrielle?" she called as loudly as she dared. "Gabrielle?"

A groan sounded off to her right and she spied the young bard's boots protruding from behind a pile of stone.

In an instant she was at her friend's side. Gabrielle slowly rolled over, pulling herself up on her knees. Blood ran down the side of her face.

"Gabrielle?" Xena moved a few stray locks of Gabrielle's hair away from the wound.

"I'm alright," Gabrielle meekly waved a dismissive hand.

"You're bleeding," Xena countered, studying the injury.

Gabrielle shrugged, still bleary eyed. "Wulflyn said "drop", so I dove for cover," she explained. Then pointed at a rock on the ground, and Xena saw fresh blood on it. "Banged my head on that."

Xena let out a deep sigh of relief. "I thought you had been shot."

Gabrielle shook her head. "Not even close."

Freya and Illis landed on the cobblestone path and dropped behind a low wall.

"Dorn has been taken," Wulflyn reported.

"Everyone get down here," Freya called up to her team. She scooted next to Illis and peeked over the wall towards the citadel.

"As soon as the others get down here, we'll storm that place," she smiled.

"I think I'll sit for a moment," Illis replied, wincing as he slid to the ground, his back to the low stone wall.

She looked at him, and then she saw the blood soaking the wall and ground beneath him.

Illis's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Looks like he got me," he offered with a smile.

"No!" Freya knelt before him. She looked into his eyes and he shrugged.

She saw the blood at the corners of his mouth and the tears welled up in her eyes.

"Why did you do that?" she asked. "Why?"

"You were stuck," he replied. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

"You stupid fool!" she placed her hands on either side of his face. "It was supposed to be me!"

Illis frowned. "Why do you think that only you should be the one risking your life?"

Her voice caught in her throat and she hesitated.

"Do you think you are less important than the rest of us?" he continued.

She was wrestling with the field medical kit as she tapped her com. "Guth, Illis has been hit. I need you down here, now!"

"On our way!" Guthbandur replied.

"You've placed yourself on the line for all of us time after time," Illis went on. "This time, I think you may have gone a bit too far."

"Shut up," Freya snapped as she pulled his jacket off and pressed a medicated pad over the wound.

He groaned as she wrapped the bandage around him.

"Just relax," Freya stammered. "Help is coming."

"I'm fine," Illis replied. "I just need to catch my breath."

The plasma bolt had impacted his back, just below the right shoulder blade, creating a bloody, half cauterized mass.

"Just a scratch," she lied. "You're going to be fine."

She placed a pain patch on his arm and then let him sit back. His breathing eased as she looked up to see the rest of her team dropping down their own lines towards the cobbles.

"See," she indicated the hanging figures above. "Here they come. Everything's going to be alright."

Illis nodded and coughed.

"What was it?" Freya asked suddenly.

He frowned.

"What did you want to discuss with me?" Freya asked. She needed to keep him focused and she grasped the first thing that came to her mind.

Illis smiled. "This is hardly the time or place."

"This is the perfect time and place," Freya retorted. "Just the two of us here."

He looked at her for a long time, and she could see it in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I have watched you," Illis smiled. "and I have always been afraid."

She smiled. "Afraid of what? Me?"

"You are driven," Illis replied, forcing a breath. "Everything you have done, from the moment you stole aboard the transport to Rivendell has been about this." He indicated the men descending the cliff wall. "I wasn't certain if your ambitions would allow for-" his voice dropped off.

"Allow for what?"

"Us," Illis finally said, looking into her eyes. "It has always been about the training, or the mission, or proving that you are worthy of the responsibility that you have been given." His eyes flickered.

"Guth," Freya tapped her com. "Hurry!"

"Half a moment," The big man replied. "I see you."

She held his face in her hands and lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Hey!" she snapped. "You stay with me, mister."

He forced his eyes to focus. then his expression became curious. "Would there have been room for us?"

"Yes," she felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Oh Gods, yes! I adore you, don't you know that? I couldn't imagine anyone else I would have at my side for anything. I need you, Illis. Gods, I need you!"

She kissed his lips and tasted blood, but she didn't care. "Please stay with me?" she begged.

He nodded weakly. "Just need to catch my breath."

His skin was grey and his eyes drifted closed.

"Hey!" Freya snapped. "Eyes open!"

He looked at her again, for just a moment. "Just need to catch my breath," he mumbled as his head dropped to his chest.

"Illis?" Freya lifted his face. "Illis?"

His eyes were closed, skin pale, and his chest no longer rose and fell.

Tears stinging her eyes, she leaned back against the wall and slowly lowered him against her shoulder, kissing his forehead and stroking his hair.

"It's okay," she whispered to him. "Just catch your breath."