And we have reached another Friday! So the first part of this chapter was actually the finishing part of the previous chapter initally, but I decided to fight to have that chapter be a happier one. As you all know, I fought and won. Sadly, we must now delve back into the coming darkness.

In this latest installment, you get to see the consequence for Inconnu's hunt to free the Witch-King from servitude to Sauron.

This chapter is actually un-beta'd, so I will make a later update of the contents in this chapter. I just really wanted to get this chapter to my wonderful readers ontime. XD

Now read on!

Chapter IV: The Danger Arising

"Do not misunderstand me, danger is very real, but fear is a choice." -Will Smith

Isengard

When Sauron had commanded Saruman to turn the hunt against the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains, Saruman indeed knew of creatures that could achieve such results. It had taken him nearly a month to find the book that spoke of those particular creatures and finally after so long he was ready to summon them to this plane of existence. These creatures of shadow and death would certainly provide a far more difficult hunt for the Huntress of the North, were she the hunter instead of the hunted in this.

Saruman knew, in his own way, that Sauron was getting a little desperate the longer his Witch-King was absent from the field. The wizard knew that the Morgul-Lord was integral to his master's plans for the Men of the West, essential for the final and crushing blow against Gondor. The Witch-King's own second, Khamul the Easterling, had been handling his superior's duties well enough as so far but could only do so much. The Witch-King had broken Arnor on his own power, a strength of magic that the Easterling did not possess. There was a reason after all why the Witch-King was chieftain among the Ringwraiths, the deadliest servant of Sauron.

Now that power missing and its wielder hunted by a woman whose ways in the hunt rivaled that of Oromё, the Great Hunter. But with the creatures Saruman was now prepared to rouse from a long dormancy, that was to change quite dramatically. Currently he stood before a magic circle composed of white, red, and black chalk. The symbols representative of ancient evils and it was in the black tongue of Mordor he cast the dark spell.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav ukhadowuk! Jiak ukummon lat katu now!"

Return, ancient shadows! I summon you here now!

The vast room immediately darkened. So much so that even the light of the many candles throughout were only seen as pinpricks. Saruman continued, unaffected by this display of shadows.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav beaukavuk! Jiak ukummon lat for gijak!"

Return, ancient beasts! I summon you for blood!

Deep growls infiltrated the darkness, starting off quietly before escalating into ferocious, blood-curdling snarls. The sharp clicks of claws were also heard as two creatures moved across the marble floor, hidden in the shadows. These hunters were circling Saruman, observing, not knowing whether he was master or prey. Saruman felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck but did not dare falter in his spellcasting, because then he would surely become prey.

"Nauk-avurn, ancienav deaavh! Jiak ukummon lat avo hunav!"

Return, ancient death! I summon you to hunt!

Now the shadows faded into a black mist, large creatures beginning to take a proper shape from them. They formed within the boundaries of the circle, seeming to take the bodies of Dire Wolves but that was where the similarities ended. Staring at them, Saruman saw bones as black as ink take solid form. Skin and fur formed in patches, making them as if they were undead creatures conjured of some dark necromancy. Sharp black teeth snapped in the air, promising a painful bite and an even more painful end.

Even after the final pieces of these creatures took corporeal form, the shadows still clung to them like a cloak of mist. Their eyes were a pure white, glowing with intelligence and malice. They were trained on Saruman's smaller form as the creature's shoulders reached the wizards full height and even at the distance that was between them, Saruman still felt like he was being towered over. True fear seeped into his mind as they growled.

These were Ravagers, creatures that belonged to the true realm of shadows and its top predators. Born solely for the savage hunt, so unlike the one the Huntress of the North participated in. Saruman then gathered his wits and spoke in a commanding tone, the light of his staff shining menacingly to lend weight to his power.

"Your prey is Inconnu Naeril, Wanderer of the Misty Mountains and the Huntress of the North. Her current Hunt must be put to an end. Permanently."

The Ravagers looked to each other in silent communication, leaving Saruman to try and retain his composure. This lasted for moments that felt like an eternity passing before they glanced at the wizard, agreement plain to him. The next moment they raised their ghastly heads and howled, the dreaded sound a mix between a wolf and a fearsome demon from the most vile of pits. Once the hunters of shadow and death raced from the chamber Saruman collapsed to his knees, grasping onto his staff to keep him upright.

His labored breathing was all he could truly hear, the sounds of goblins shrieking in fear barely noted by his conscious mind. Eventually, there in the gloom of the chamber, was Saruman able to finally stand with a dark smile. He held little concern as to the hunting prowess of the Ravagers, and had a strong conviction that these beasts could end the troublesome Wanderer. However that cruel grin faltered when a single, particular doubt crossed his mind.

After witnessing the power of the Ravagers, he doubted he could control them for long.

15 Miles from The High Fells of Rhudaur

Inconnu was close, she could feel it in her bones and in the very air itself. The hatred could easily be felt emanating from a particular mountain peak. Occasionally, Inconnu could almost swear she heard faint voices of men speaking in an older dialect of Westron, telling her to turn back and abandon her hunt. Telling her to leave the foul Dwimmerlaik to his fate and let him rot in the tomb made for his kind.

However, the Wanderer of the Mists was not to be deterred by such words. Her conviction was much stronger and she held faith that she could save the Witch-King. The voices could talk all they wished, whispering their ire into her ear, but she would not turn away from the path she had walked since all those months ago in the great library of Minas Tirith. No, she certainly would not abandon Er-Murazor to the darkness.

Sverundr walked a comfortable pace through the snow, driving a fresh path through the deep snow. Its depth proved a minor obstacle for him, and with the snowstorm having passed some time ago Inconnu got the enjoy the scenery as they tread the mountain path. Despite the rather obvious dangers of traveling through the Misty Mountains like this, being in them had it moments of wild beauty. It was also in these moments that Inconnu could find a measure of peace.

Moments were, unfortunately, moments for a reason known only by time itself as they passed quickly and the peace replaced by a more gruesome scene.

It was Sverundr who noticed that something was very wrong before his rider was aware. He only progressed a few more paces before he stopped in his tracks and snorted wildly. Inconnu raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion and dismounted. She moved up to be next to his head and she combed his mane soothingly with one hand while the other rubbed his head. It didn't take long for him to calm under her touch and he actively sought it out too.

"What's wrong my friend?" Inconnu asked softly. "What has you reacting like this?"

Sverundr turned his head a little to the right and ahead of them, his nose moving as to point where exactly the cause of all this resided. Inconnu continued to soothe her companion before grabbing his reins and leading him on to see just what cause him this anxiety. Sverundr was hesitant but did not defy his rider. He knew she would protect him as he did for her. However, what Inconnu found brought her shock and anxiety as well.

There beyond a small rise and not far off the path, hidden from plain sight until the rise was passed, was the body of a horse. It was a stallion for sure, his coat a midnight black, and the trappings that had been left on him were of a fine quality. Inconnu only had to come a bit closer, Sverundr willingly remaining behind yet close enough to have Inconnu in his sights, for her to be sure of who the horse belonged to.

This was the Witch-King's black stallion, and from a simple look over the poor horse did not leave this life peacefully.

Long slashes criss-crossed over the stallion's entire body, the flank Inconnu could see was ripped to shreds, and much of the horse's throat was missing. In fact, quite a bit of the stallion was missing, devoured by some large predator. Inconnu could tell upon close inspection the smaller creatures had taken their share of that predator's meal. A sudden rush filled her veins at the thought of what might have happened to the Witch-King and Inconnu then searched the immediate area for any sign of him.

There was none, and Inconnu didn't know whether or not to take that as a good sign. It also took her a few moments longer to remember her most recent dream of Oromё. Realizing something she then sighed with relief.

Of course the Witch-King is still in this world, otherwise Oromё would have told me if something more had happened to him.

Inconnu returned to the body of the stallion, now looking for the cause of death. Despite popular belief, large predators weren't commonly encountered. Frequent travelers through the Misty Mountains would tell you otherwise, but such experiences were easily stretched into long flowing tales of grandeur. Inconnu was also quite simply the most traveled of these mountains, but did not dramatically expand upon her experiences with other, wilder hunters.

The previous snowstorm did much to hinder her investigation of the area, having wiped away the tracks of the large predator the stallion's wounds suggested. Inconnu's grey gaze went over the grievous wounds again and this time spotted something lodged in the horse's side. With care she pulled it out and raised it to better see it in the dull winter sun. Sverundr snorted and whinnied nervously when he saw it and Inconnu recognized her find.

It was the fang of a Dire Wolf.

Inconnu only had the momentary warning of a harsh snarl before the snow exploded from a large drift in front of her. Her hunter's instincts took immediate control and Inconnu dropped to the ground as a large form lunged at her, missing her entirely. The next moment saw Inconnu standing up from the snow with her sword drawn and turning to face the creature that had meant to ambush her.

Before Inconnu was a Dire Wolf, its pelt pure white and possessing many scars across its muzzle. Its sides also bore injuries that were much newer, and Inconnu easily made the connection.

So this was the Dire Wolf that killed the Witch-King's stallion. Judging by the lack of evidence that he was harmed, this Dire Wolf was more focused on the horse than the Ringwraith.

Inconnu fell into a more defensive stance, prepared to end this encounter as swiftly as possible. Behind the Dire Wolf, Sverundr danced in place as he was split between staying in place and racing to his rider's aid. Almost imperceptibly, Inconnu shook her head and Sverundr relaxed slightly as he understood. He was to stay in place. Inconnu could handle this, and he held complete faith in his rider's judgement.

The Dire Wolf growled and snarled, entirely focused on the Huntress of the North. Inconnu remained impassive to the predator's threats, which only served to further anger it. She needed to end this soon, as time was certainly not on her side and she did not wish for the Witch-King to suffer in that dark place any longer. He was not to heal in that place, as that place held no such purpose but only to bring more pain and suffering to him and his brethren. Inconnu then angled her blade to flash light into the eyes of the Dire Wolf.

Temporarily blinded, the Dire Wolf shook its head to try and clear its sight before raising it to howl fiercely. It then charged at Inconnu before leaping into the air again, attempting to bring her down this time around. Like its ambush, this attack failed and its failure ended in death. Inconnu timed her attack dangerously close, only raising her sword in offense when the Dire Wolf was nearly upon her. There was nothing the Dire Wolf could do as it fell onto the sword, the blade piercing into the soft underside of its jaw and up into its skull

The Dire Wolf was dead before it reached the ground, landing on top on Inconnu.

Sverundr neighed with worry, quick to be at his rider's side and fearing the worst from his point of view. These worries were soon relieved when Inconnu roughly pushed the Dire Wolf's body off of her. She laid there, panting and she sighed a little dramatically when she looked up into Sverundr's eyes. He snorted and she laughed softly in reply.

"I know, a little too close for comfort."

Inconnu took a few more minutes to let the adrenaline rush leave her veins before she stood up and looked down at her recent kill. Sverundr nuzzled her for attention and Inconnu willingly gave it, rubbing his nose as she said, "At least no other travelers are going to have to worry about a lone Dire Wolf waiting on the trail."

Sverundr nickered as Inconnu checked the sun's position. She sighed, as the night would be upon them within mere hours. Not enough time to make it to the High Fells, and certainly not trekking through this kind of terrain. There was only so much snow that Sverundr could plow through within a day. Inconnu looked to her old friend again and smiled faintly, thinking of an upside to this.

"Tonight we will rest, and I'm thinking that a Dire Wolf's pelt wouldn't hurt to have on hand either."

As Inconnu acted on these thoughts, she couldn't help but feel that the Dire Wolf was the true threat. No, the Huntress of the North had the uncomfortable feeling of being hunted. By what, that was something she did not know, but for tonight she pushed aside that feeling and went about skinning the pelt from the Dire Wolf by the light of a careful fire.

Fun fact: the Ravagers actually belong to my upcoming NaNoWriMo novel. Not so fun fact: I am so sorry Inconnu, I swear I didn't know they were like this until I started writing them! The things that are only revealed upon actually being written... or in this case typed up...

Well, Inconnu is certainly in for quite the challenge for when the Ravagers catch up to her! Should make for an interesting chapter indeed!

As for the next chapter... I believe we all know what going to go down. I've delayed it (planned actually) for four chapters already, and I'm going to have fun for the next seven days writing it and perfecting it according to my personal standards!

So, remember to drop a review and also know that I don't own LOTR (and probably never will.)