The Wayward Shadow

by PurposefulChaos

Keira is a survivor. She's spent years living off the land ever since orcs destroyed the city she once called home. One winter day, she wakes to find herself lost in a forest with no clue as to how she got there. But when her life is thrust into the hands of an Elven Prince, Keira is left with a terrible choice. Fulfill a task destined to her, or risk condemning Arda to doom.

26. Departed

*slithers out from Mount Doom* BACK AGAIN!

---

"Theiives!"

The voice jolts me from my peaceful slumber, and I sit up with a cry. My eyes, burning with unshed tears, are met with utter darkness as I gaze up at the night sky. The gentle hum of the River and the snoring of the hobbits are the only noises to be heard. Even the night creatures, the owls and wolves, appear to have fallen to silence. Chest heaving, I rise shakily to my feet before gazing down at Carca. The Breyta fidgets in slumber but does not wake. His eyelids have opened into half-slits, leaving only slivers of gold that peak out from beneath them. Dark saliva drips down from his exposed fangs.

"They stole it from us!"

The same terrible voice pierces through the night air. My hand travels down to Aduial's scabbard. The blade hums at my touch, ready to be of service.

"Carca," I whisper. When the wolf does not react, I kick him in the shoulder. "Carca!"

A low grumble sounds from deep within his throat, and Carca's eyes flutter open. "Have you no use of sleep, Keira?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" The Breyta gives a wide yawn, displaying an impressive array of fangs.

"A loud voice, coming from the far shore." I whip around, scanning the shadowed tree line. There is no telling what dangers might be lurking amidst the cover of night.

"I heard no such voice," says Carca, peering out across the River. "Surely you must be mistaken. If there was danger nearby, I would have smelt it by now."

"I could have sworn someone spoke," I say. "My ears are keen. It was no ghost I heard, nor was it a trick of the wind."

"Keira Whitam, there is nothing to be concerned about." Carca looks up at me seriously. "Sleep now. You need your rest."

With a sigh of frustration I sink to my knees and lean back against the wolf, allowing my head to rest against his massive shoulder. The steady beat of his heart drums in my ear as I press against him, trying desperately to block out whatever it was I heard. Carca's wing folds across my lap, shielding me from the cool winter breeze.

But before my eyes fall closed once more, I catch sight of something across the River bank. A lithe white figure, bowed into a crouch. Glinting eyes peer at me from afar, ripe with intrigue and malice.

"Baggins," the creature lisps, and then is no more.

---

"Good morning."

The warmth of the voice matches with that of the hand pressed against my cheek. It is hard and callused, yet harbors a distinct familiarity that moves me to open my eyes. The tanned face of a man peers down at me, his blue gaze deep and thoughtful. Hazel-gold hair falls in loose waves down to his shoulders. My lips fall agape to form a single word, one that I have not spoken in twenty years.

"Father?"

Miniscule wrinkles fan out from the corners of the man's eyes. "Hello, my dear. You've slept late."

"Father, how…?" I whisper, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I saw the cart. The bodies." My voice catches. "Your body."

Byron frowns. "Was it the nightmares, again?"

I open my mouth to respond, but words fail me. Smiling with sympathy, Father bends down to kiss my forehead. "Don't let them get to you," he says. "There are more important things to dwell on rather than the darkness of your own mind."

Byron's beard prickles against my skin as I lean into him, arms stretching up to wrap around his neck. "All these years I have longed to have you with me again. Long nights I have spent alone in the wilderness, wishing that my father was there to guide me."

"I am here now, my daughter," says Byron gently. His hair smells freshly of winter mint, a spice found only in the woods of Lothlorien. I recall that my father often ventured to the forest in order to gather the silver-leafed plant. The thought brings a smile to my face.

"The men are waiting for me." Father's words bring me back to reality. Brow furrowed, I pull back to look him in the eye.

"What do you mean?" I inquire. "Aren't you going to stay here with me?"

"I wish I could, but my duties call me elsewhere."

My eyes widen. "But you cannot leave! Not now!"

Byron strokes his thumb along my cheekbone. "Vera," he soothes. "Do not worry for me."

The name sounds foreign to me at first, but then I remember. My father never called me Keira; he called me Vera, meaning the faithful. I was his beacon of hope during the darkest of hours, even when all other lights failed him.

A second tear drips free of the corner of my eye. "I love you, Father."

Another kiss, this time on my cheek. "I love you, too."

---

When my eyes open next, I am met not with the kind face of my father, but with the dark expanse of sky stretching up above me. The faintest hint of pink has begun to bleed out into the horizon, signifying that the morning hour is not that long away.

"Father?" My own voice surprises me. Blinking in confusion, I lean up into a sitting position. Realization comes quickly as I take note of the company slumbering peacefully near the forest borders. The newfound knowledge that Byron was no more than a dream dangles tauntingly in my face. Now my father is just a memory that has already begun to fade from my mind.

Sighing, I rise to my feet, careful not to disturb the sleeping form of Carca. The Breyta is oblivious to my inner turmoil, and for that I am glad. Words of comfort cannot heal wounds as deep as this. Not even if spoken by one so wise as he.

My footsteps hardly make a sound as I make my over towards the riverbank, savoring the feel of soft soil on my skin. I had taken off my boots in order to air out the countless blisters and abrasions marring my feet. Long days spent up by countless hours walking have taken their toll, but the cool winter air does well to sap away some of the pain.

I step up to the Anduin's sandy shoreline, allowing the water to lick at my toes. The cooing of a morning dove and the ever present sound of rushing water are the only noises to be heard as I gaze out at the river's glassy surface. Thoughts of the creature I had seen earlier whirl about in my mind. It slunk about in a manner similar to an animal, but spoke with the intelligence of a person. That fact, not to mention the ghostly paleness of its skin, leads me to believe that the figure I saw shrouded in the darkness was Gollum. I have seen him before, once in Mirkwood all those years ago, then in the dismal mines of Moria. His behavior has grown suspicious of late, leading me to believe that he has become a bit too interested in our Fellowship's intentions.

"Odd," I mutter to myself. "Very odd."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I am just about to turn back when a flash of ivory fur catches my eye. I pivot on heel just in time to watch a pure white stag emerges from the tree line opposite me. It is a magnificent beast, with a massive rack of golden antlers that seem to glow in the dawning light. The stag's marble eyes take in my watching form almost immediately. Its black nose wiggles, having caught my strange new scent.

"Don't be afraid," I tell it softly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The stag snorts at me and stamps its hoof. Then, as if deciding I am not a threat, the creature steps forward in order to drink from the River. Lips spread wide into a grin, I drop into a crouch and watch as the beautiful animal laps its fill before looking up once more. Its pearly muzzle glistens with water.

"A white stag is a rare sight to behold."

I startle at the sound of Legolas's voice. The Elf comes to stand beside me, features placid as he observes the creature.

"They are said to bring luck to those who come upon them," I reply. "At least that is what my father told me."

"In a sense it does, but not in the ways you might think." Legolas drops down to my level, his eyes pale and wise. "A white stag represents the spirit of the forest itself. They are pure and beautiful creatures that would never harm another living being." The Prince's features seem to shadow over. "But there are some who cannot see that beauty. They seek to kill the stags and display their hides as tokens. One such person came to Mirkwood not thirty years before yourself."

"You speak of Thorin."

Legolas glances down at me. "You knew him?"

I laugh aloud. "I have never had dealings with dwarves, Legolas. They are much too boisterous for my taste. I have simply done readings on Erebor and its line of dwarf-lords. Oakenshield was killed in the Battle of the Five Armies, which occurred several years before I was even born. I could not have met him, even if I wanted to." A sigh racks through my body. "War is an awful, bloody affair. Those who do not see it as such are either misunderstood or complete fools."

"It is to my knowledge that Thorin was both." I look over at Legolas, surprised to find that his eyes are filled not with anger, but with sorrow, instead. "A great sickness laid upon Erebor," he continues. "One that had been festering in its halls many years before Smaug's reign of tyranny. The dwarves of the mountain had a deep and unquenchable thirst for gold. That thirst quickly grew more vast than any wealth they could hope to possess. The sickness corrupted Thorin from early on. He developed a bitter distaste for Elven kind, which was only escalated when my father restrained our kin from aiding the dwarves after the destruction of Dale."

"Why did he do that?" I ask. "It seems a bit far-fetched to bring out your whole army just to turn back."

"My father was not aware of the sheer destruction Smaug had caused. The dragon decimated Dale and had taken hold of the mountain far before he arrived. To challenge such a beast, even with a great host of warriors at his disposal, would have sentenced each of them to doom. Thranduil would not risk the lives of our own so easily."

I nod slowly. Legolas observes me in silence for a moment before stroking away a piece of wayward hair. "What is troubling you, Keira?"

"I am not troubled."

The Prince frowns. "Do not lie to me."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Since when were you so interested?"

"You are my friend," he replies simply. I try to ignore the fact that he trips over the last word. "And as such, anything that troubles you must also trouble me.

I sigh grudgingly. "I dreamt of my father, if you must know."

Legolas leans back. "Byron?"

"Yes."

There is short pause. "I dream often of my mother, as well. I was barely forty years old when she died."

"You've never mentioned your mother," I say. "What was she like?"

"I dare say she was quite a bit like you," he replies, gazing out at the River. "She was the reason to my father's ambition, the compassion to his cruelty."

"I wouldn't say I'm compassionate," I interject truthfully.

Legolas flashes me a glinting smile, something so rare that it takes me aback. "It was often said that her laugh could brighten even the darkest of days."

"If hers failed, I quite recon that yours would be a welcome substitute." Blinking fondly, I lean my head against his shoulder. "I am glad to have you here with me."

"And I, you."

Together we watch as the white stag casts one last look towards the Riverbank before bounding gracefully into the forest. In a matter of moments its vibrant hide has completely disappeared from view, leaving not the slightest of traces. The stag's departure saddens me. I may never get to see such an animal again. Not in this life, at least.

My eyes flutter up towards Legolas, watching as the rising sun turns his hair a transcendent shade of platinum. The Elf catches onto my gaze and returns it with one of his own. "It is still early yet, Keira," he says. "Try to rest."

A lump grows in my throat as an image of Byron flashes before me. "I'm not sure if I can."

Legolas blinks sympathetically before pressing his temple into my own. "Do you remember that night you found me in the forest?"

I chuckle softly. "How could I forget?"

"You had no reason to want to help me, no reason to risk your life to save my own. Yet you did it anyway. Why?"

My lip tugs. "Perhaps it was because I was a fool."

"How so?"

"I was a fool for thinking that the wisest, fairest, and most extraordinary creature I had ever known could ever be moved to care for a silly little human girl."

"Then you were wrong," he says gently. "I cared for you then, and I care for you now. Do not forget that."

I feel my heart stutter slightly. A warm feeling spreads throughout my body as I remember that night in Mirkwood. Remember the unfamiliar yet welcome feel of Legolas lying next to me. Nothing has changed. The years we have spent apart have done nothing but bind us closer.

"Sleep," the Prince whispers. "Do not dwell on dark things."

His words remind me of the very ones Byron spoke within my dream.

Thank you, Father, I say silently, craning my neck towards the sky. A single star still shines out amidst the rosy depths, winking mischievously.

Thank you for sending him to me.

---

"Enjoying yourself?"

My eyes fly open to take in the terrifying sight of Carca looming before me. His black mane is bristled in agitation and annoyance. I spring to my feet, moving to apologize to Legolas, when I realize that he is nowhere to be found. Frowning, I shift my gaze towards Carca.

"Where are the others?" I inquire.

"Readying the boats," he growls. "As they should be. It is half an hour past dawn. Since when have you slept so late?"

"I didn't realize…" I stammer. "The night just went by… so fast. We have to get moving."

Carca sticks out a paw to prevent me from leaving. "Not before you have had something substantial to eat. There is nothing worse than bearing about a cranky Rider."

I smirk at him. "Good to know."

"In your mind, I suppose it is. Come now, Sam has just finished cooking the last of the sausages. Best to get your hands on one before Gimli devours the whole lot."

I nod sleepily, trying desperately to blink away the growing haze in my eyes. Since when have I ever overslept? Perhaps it is due my sighting of the white stag or of Gollum. But somewhere deep within me, I know that is not the case. Neither creature has the power to coax me back to sleep after such a painful dream. Only an Elf could attempt such a feet and succeed.

"How long have you been up?" I ask of my companion as we make our way over to the group.

"A good hour or so. I let you sleep as late as I could, but I fear that the company had begun to grow anxious for you."

"Indeed." Suddenly, I grab hold of Carca's foreleg, halting us both. "I saw something, Carca. It was not a nightmare, nor a figment of my imagination. It was the creature Gollum we stood across the River bank."

The Breyta seems to darken a bit. "I know. I saw the creature, as well. He has been following us since the Mines."

My mouth falls open. "You lied to me?"

"Keira!" We both turn to see Strider waving us over. "We haven't much time."

Carca moves towards him, but my grip tightens. Swirls of blue magic spiral out from my fingers, making it impossible for him to escape me. "You are not going anywhere until you tell me what in the name of the Valar is going on. Why is Gollum following us?"

"He seeks out the Ring," says Carca. "He is drawn to it as a moth is to a light. It is only a matter of time before he becomes bold enough to challenge Frodo."

Eyes flashing, I lean in close to him until my lips are brushing against his ear. "He is not the only one."

Carca pulls back slightly, his golden gaze meeting with my own. "You speak of Boromir."

"Aye."

My companion heaves a sigh. "As much as I dislike the man, I also fear for him. But there are some things we cannot stop from taking place." Carca blinks slowly. "His fate is bound to the Ring as much as Sauron's. It will take hold of him, and it will destroy him."

"You sound as if you are certain."

"That is because I am," he says harshly, padding back a few steps. "I go now to hunt. Do not wait for me."

With that he spreads his wings and launches up into the sky. I watch on as his dark form spirals higher and higher before disappearing amongst the clouds.

"Where's he off to, then?"

I turn round to see Gimli standing behind me, elbows resting on the hilt of his axe.

"Hunting," I say, trying my best to smile. "Sausages and elf bread can hardly satisfy the stomach of a hungry Breyta, not to mention one so massive as Carca."

"Indeed," says the dwarf. "I take it that he'll be gone for a while?"

"Not usually. The Breyta are quite proficient at it." I look at him curiously. "Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just makin' sure he doesn't have any plans of abandoning us."

His words strike a painful chord in my heart. After all this time we have spent with them, they still don't fully trust us. Smiling sadly, I kneel down before him and clasp his hands in my own.

"Gimli, neither I nor Carca would ever abandon you," I say. "We made a promise to keep you safe, and that promise shall stand until the end of time itself."

The dwarf shuffles uneasily before nodding.

"Oi, Miss Keira!" Sam's voice rings clear through the morning air. "We've saved some for you!"

"Thank you," Itell him, rising once more to my feet. Once I've made my way over to him, the hobbit reaches up and hands me a plate of steaming sausages. My mouth waters at the very smell. I've lost track of the last time I ate anything aside from lettuce and bread. The mere sight of meat is enough to make my stomach growl.

Where are you, Carca? My mind voice wavers slightly as I take a large bite of food. No reply comes at first, but then I hear what sounds like crunching.

Near, he rumbles amidst the racket.

Sounds like you has success with your hunting.

A yearling buck made the mistake of venturing out towards the River… Carca pauses to swallow. Perhaps he shall ponder over his regrets of doing so in the afterlife.

I can only hope that it was a regular deer that my companion killed, not the ethereal creature I had seen earlier.

That is not very kind, Carca.

The Breyta huffs. Nor is waking me up in the wee hours over something that does not exist.

I beg to differ! My voice echoes inside my own ears. If you recall, you told me not five minutes ago that you saw the beast, as well.

As far as you are concerned, we did not see anything, Carca snaps. We do not need to send the company into a panic. That white rat is hardly a threat to us. I could swallow him whole if I wished.

I pull a face. I doubt that he would taste very nice.

Not very nice at all.

"My lady."

I look over to see Aragorn striding up to me. His green eyes are clear and awake despite the early hour.

"Aragorn," I reply.

"We make for the Falls of Rauros," says the Ranger, gesturing to the East. "The journey ahead will be long, but if the weather permits, we shall arrive by sundown."

"Already?" I blink at him, shocked. Our week on the water has gone by in a blur. It seems like just yesterday that we left the peaceful confines of Lothlorien. But instead of hearing the sweet serenades of Elves, my ears are filled with the sound of silent ticking. Like a clock that will not cease, time makes me well aware that every fleeting second brings us closer to Mordor and Isenguard. And most of all, Karr.

"Thank you for informing me of this," I say. "Carca will be pleased to know that our River journey is almost at an end."

"Yes, he quite is."

I whip around, nearly spilling my food, just in time to see Carca swoop down beside me. His golden eyes flicker to Aragorn, scrutinizing the Ranger for a moment. Then he looks to me.

"You look undead," he says matter-of-factly. I roll my eyes.

"You're too kind."
The Breyta shoots me a look. "Are you ready to fly?"

Stuffing the last of the sausages in my mouth, I nod to him. "Just collect my things from the boat."

"Be quick." Carca flexes his muscles. "The air is chill. I do not wish for my wings to freeze mid-flight. We best go now while they are still warm."

"Fine." I hand Sam my empty plate and thank him briefly.

"It was no trouble, Miss Keira," says the hobbit, his cheeks reddening.

I smile at him and jog down towards the shoreline. Legolas and Gimli have already begun to pack up their boat, and I am just able to reach them before my supplies are buried beneath their own.

"Hold on!" I yelp, staying Legolas's arm. The Elf looks up at me, an expression of shock written on his features.

"What do you need?" he inquires.

"My bow." Legolas blinks. "It is black in color," I continue. "I hardly ever use it, but I would like to have it with me."

"Is this it, lass?" Gimli hoists up a bundle of cloth. I can just make out the shining ebony tip of my longbow as it peeks at from beneath it.

"Yes, I believe so." Taking the bow in my hands, I remove its wrappings and hand them back to Gimli. "Thank you, master dwarf."

Making my way back to Carca, I sheathe Aduial in the saddle scabbard and retrieve my quiver from out of the many storage pockets. My companion perks his ears.

"I do not recall you being overly fond of archery," he says.

"I'm not. But if we happen to see Gollum from a height, perhaps I might be able to rid of the rat once and for all."

Carca chuckles. "Now you're sounding like a true Rider."

"Is an insult or a compliment?"
"Both." I strap the quiver across my back before hoisting myself onto the saddle. The longbow feels heavy and foreign compared to Aduial's light, familiar build. I don't know what I would do without the blade. Like Carca, it has been with me through the darkest of days. To lose Aduial would be losing a part of me.

"Come on, Carca," I say, placing a hand on his neck. "Let's get out of here."

Carca abides at once, and not a moment later we are soaring high up in the clouds. The wind bites into my face like a thousand tiny daggers. I find myself wishing for my riding helmet. But it was lost during the fight with the lake monster in Moria. I can hardly recall seeing its bronze form falling from the saddle and into the beast's waiting jaws. A shame, really. It was crafted by one of our best blacksmiths. Perhaps I might have him forge a new one, once the journey is…

My thoughts come to a grinding halt as I remember Galadriel's dark omen. I will not be alive to request such a thing, I think solemnly.

Carca circles overhead the company for several minutes before they, too, begin their journey down the River. Legolas once again pulls ahead of the rest, with Boromir and the cousins trailing in his wake. I can just barely hear the burly voice of Gimli echoing across the landscape as he remarks about the wind and weather. I find myself grinning at his words.

How you holding up? I ask Legolas. The Elf tilts his head up towards the sky, and I can just make out the white glint of his smile.

Very well. And yourself?

Well enough. The air has grown colder at this height, but Carca has flown through such conditions many times prior. Winter has nigh come to an end, at least in these parts. We need only brave it for a few days more.

Fly long and hard, he says. But do not tire yourselves. We need you both at full strength for what surely lies ahead of us.

Aye. There is a short pause. Legolas, have you been seeing any… unusual creatures roaming about?

Like the white stag?

No, no, I think back quickly. Much uglier. Much, much uglier.

Legolas seems to realize where the conversation is headed. If it is Gollum that you are concerned about, do not bother. Should that ghastly creature ever attempt to challenge Frodo for the Ring, he would not live to see another moon.

Perhaps, but at what cost? My knuckles pale as I grip hard onto my bow. What if Gollum were to wound the Ringbearer? What if no one was there to protect him?

You are conflicted, Keira. I understand that. Legolas's hair glints gold in the morning sun as the wind tosses it back behind him. If you are so worried about the hobbit, perhaps you should watch over him more carefully. The two of you have hardly talked at all since Lorien.

There has been no need to.

You talk to me, the Elf says hardly. How is Frodo any different?
His words, though spoken mentally, move me to silence. He is right. I do not often talk to Frodo, whereas Legolas and I speak daily to one another. But then again, as much as I hate to admit it, I do not love Frodo like I love the Prince. My friendship with Legolas has been tested and strained, but its flaws do no more than to bring us closer. Frodo, on the other hand, is rather quiet and reclusive. He is like a fawn, skittish and unsure. Constantly on the watch for danger. And he is smart for doing so. With creatures like Gollum roaming about, there's no telling what else might be lurking around the River bend.

Well? It is Legolas again. His voice has lost some of its steel, returning back to its normal, warm tone.

I shall try to make an effort, I reply.

Good. I have a feeling that he shall be in need of your friendship now more than ever. Sam tries to help, but the hobbit has no training in the art of war. You, mellon nin, do.

I sigh audibly. Your tactics of persuasion are most dreadfully effective.

Legolas laughs, his voice sending pleasant chills down along my arms. So I have been told.

The remainder of the day goes by rather swiftly. Carca and I barely speak. The Fellowship whispers amongst themselves. My eyes scan the forest below, but I never catch a glimpse of Gollum.

Then, just when I am about to inquire something of Carca, I feel his body tense beneath me.

"Keira, look."

I glance up just in time to see two enormous statues, shaped into the form of kings, appear through the mist of clouds. They have been carved out of the two cliffs bordering alongside a portion of the Anduin. Towering at least two hundred feet high, they are a magnificent yet impossible sight to behold. My mouth falls agape in awe.

"The Argonath," I whisper. "My father used to tell me stories of them. But never could I comprehend their true majesty unless it were with my own eyes."

"Aye." Carca folds his wings before dipping down from the sky. The Fellowship appears out of the haze bellow us, growing closer and closer as the Breyta banks towards them. When alas he levels into a glide, I can clearly make out each of their faces.

"Aragorn!" I call. The Ranger looks up at me, and I gesture ahead. His eyes grow wide with amazement. Then, at long last, he turns to the Ringbearer.

"Frodo. The Argonath. Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

The Fellowship looks up, awestruck, as the boats sail past the statues' towering splendor. Their left arms are extended outward to us, as if in warning. Carca flaps upwards until we are hovering in front of one of the magnificent carvings. Its ancient surface is dull and cracked, yet there remains a certain power hidden beneath its hard features that brings a smile to my face.

"The great kings of old," I whisper. "Age has no power against such marvels of Men."

"Here they will remain for many years to come," Carca says. "The day upon which they fall will be filled with sorrow."

"Aye. It will indeed."

---

When the Fellowship finally arrives at the Falls, the sun has just begun to slide down from its high perch in the sky. The Hill of Sight lies only a hundred yards away from us, with the Falls of Rauros marking the end of our watery path. If the current were to pick up, the boats would surely be pulled over the edge. Yet Aragorn guides the company well, pulling the canoes onto the beach of Parth Galen. Once they are properly set, the others begin to unpack.

"Land, Carca," I say. "Let us not leave them to do all the work."

The Breyta grumbles tiredly before touching down upon the soft sand. I slide down from the saddle and pack away my bow. Aduial's brilliant hilt glints wickedly as I slide it back into my own sheath. Having the blade ready at my hip gives me a strange sense of security. A sense that I have long missed during our days in Lothlorien.

"We cross the lake at nightfall," I hear Aragorn say. Turning to face him, I see that he appears to be talking to Gimli, who resides upon a large boulder. "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh, yes?" growls the dwarf. Carca rolls his eyes. "It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassible labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Pippin comes to stand next to me, a look of alarm written on his features. "Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see."

Agitation broils within me, and I step forward. "Forgive me, master dwarf, but I do not recall being told that this journey would be easy. If you do not wish to be thrust into such situations, than I suggest turning back now."

"Turn back? Turn back?" Gimli's face turns red with rage. "I'll be dead before I even consider such a thing!"

"Then I suggest you mind your tongue." I shoot Aragorn a look before turning to look at Pippin. "Don't let him bother you," I say softly. The hobbit nods once, his curly hair bobbing up and down.

"That is our road," Aragorn continues. "I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my…?" Gimli grumbles lowly before lumbering off to gather supplies.

A swift breeze seems to pass me by, and I glance over to see Legolas striding up to the Ranger. "We should leave now," he says.
"No," comes Aragorn's strong reply. "Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness."

"It is not the eastern shore the worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind." My boots crunch softly against the sand as I come to stand beside him. "Something draws near. I can feel it."

"What is it?" I ask. "Do you even know what you speak of?"

Legolas shakes his head. "I do not. But we must make haste."

"He wants me to recover my strength?" Gimli plods back over to us, looking now towards Pippin. "Pay no heed to that, young hobbit. Especially that snippy little…"

"Gimli!" I exclaim, whipping around to face him. "There's no need to be rude!" There is a pause before, oddly, I smile. "Although I have been called worse.'"

The dwarf eyes me carefully. "You best be mindin' yourself, young lass."

"I'm forty-three years old, master dwarf. You can hardly get away with calling me young… unless, of course, you are comparing me to Legolas."

The Elf looks down at me severely, and I snicker. My humor is short-lived, however, when I hear a familiar voice ring clear through the silence.

"Where's Frodo?"

I look round to see Merry appearing out from the forest, his arms full of wood and tinder. Sam, who had been napping nearby, rouses with a start. My brow furrows, and I look to Legolas.

"Frodo was here just minutes ago. I saw him with my own eyes," I say. "Where has he gone?"

"The forest," says Aragorn. His sharp eyes scan about the campsite before coming to rest upon something that strikes fear in my heart.

Boromir's unattended shield lying among the supplies.

"Valar," I whisper, turning to look at Carca. "Oh blessed Valar, what have we done?"

The Breyta turns his muzzle skyward before inhaling sharply. His golden eyes are bright with knowing.

"They are many paces away from here," Carca says. We must go quickly if we are to catch them in time." The Breyta tucks in his wings, allowing them to completely vanish against his black hide, then looks to me. "Do you wish to follow them?"

"I do not trust Boromir," I say. "The Ring has corrupted his mind. There is no telling what crime it might guilt him into committing." With a grunt of effort I boost myself on the Wolf's back. "We must prevent that from happening."

"Keira! Carca!"

My companion and I turn upon hearing Aragorn's voice. The man's steely green eyes delve deeply into my own.

"Do not act rashly," he says. "There are many dangers lurking about in these woods."
"I will not," I reply. "And to you yourself, Master Aragorn. Be safe."

The Ranger dips his head to me, and with that Carca gives a powerful roar before launching us into the forest.

"How far until we reach them?" I ask, gripping hard onto the front of the saddle. The sharp winter breeze threads through my hair, whipping it over my shoulders and chilling my already cold face. Aduial's scabbard clatters against my hip as Carca dodges his way past trees and over rocks.

"At least five minutes," pants the Breyta. "Possibly longer. I know not when they took their leave."

I let out a heavy breath, watching as the yellowed foliage blurs by. The afternoon sun still shines in the sky, but its rays have begun to glow a deeper gold. In a matter of hours the land will be plunged into a cold and bitter darkness. If Frodo does not turn up beforehand, there is no telling what may have happened to him. Aragorn is right about the dangers in this forest, but he finds himself blind to the one lurking among us. The one possessed by greed and despair to the point of breaking.

"This is all my fault," I say. My eyes begin to burn as guilt settles in my heart. "If only I had kept a better eye on him, none of this would have—"

"Silence, Keira." Carca angles his head so as to meet my gaze. "None of this is your doing. We do not know for sure fi there is anything wrong at all."

From then on we ride in tense silence, neither one us sure of what to say. Carca's rhythmic pace slows slightly as the minutes pass. We are close, now. All that is left for us to do is look.

Then, just as I am about to dismount and search on foot, the sound of shouting fills the air. I start, and Carca digs his forepaws into the ground in order to halt our momentum. His ears perk, then swivel to the side, before lying flat against his head. The Wolf's golden gaze has come to rest upon the far hillside.

There, lying prone amongst the leaves, is Boromir. His hair is disheveled and clumped with dirt as he looks about him, eyes glazed with tears.

"Frodo?" he whimpers. "Frodo? What have I done?"

"Leave this to me," I hiss, sliding down from the saddle. The loud thump as my boots contact the ground seems to alert the man, as he looks around towards me.

"Lady Keira!" he exclaims. "I—Frodo—he fled farther up the hill. I know not where he means to go."

"And what was his motive for fleeing?" I ask sharply. Leaves crunch and sift beneath me as I make my way over to him. My fingers flutter briefly across Aduial's hilt.

Boromir stumbles to his feet, and it is then when I note the look of pure horror in his gaze. "I tried to take the Ring from him," he whispers. "Something came over me; a dark devilry, far beyond my own comprehension."

I come to stand before him, my eyes narrowed. "You succumbed to it. You harbor the same weakness as Isildur. Perhaps you are his heir, and not Aragorn, if only to explain your greed and lack of strength."

The Gondorian recoils a bit, his lip quivering. "Please… I meant him no harm!"

"Where has he gone?" I explode. In one swift motion I have unsheathed my sword and pressed its tip against his chest. My fingertips have begun to glow an unearthly blue, signifying the full extent of my rage. "Where is Frodo?"

"He—ran that way," Boromir stammers, gesturing up the hill. "Not a minute past."

"Did you hurt him?" The man opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Enraged, I bear down harder on Aduial, allowing its steely point to dig through the fabric of his shirt. "Has any harm come to Frodo Baggins?"

"No!" A single tear streaks down Boromir's cheek. It carves a path down his scuffed face before falling alas upon my blade. "No. I would sooner die than let such a thing happen."

A lump begins to grow in my throat as I observe the pain etched into his features. Am I being too harsh on him? Is the man truly oblivious to his actions? "Boromir," I whisper. "I want to believe you. Truly, I do. But years of living in the wilds have taught me that trust is hard to obtain."

"I do not ask for your trust," Boromir says, "Only that you would not think so lowly of me."

My lips pull into a tight line and, reluctantly, I slide Aduial back into its sheath. "I go now to look for Frodo. If he is unharmed, I will be lenient on my judgment of you. But if he is wounded in any way…" My hands sizzle with magic. "You will do your best to never cross me again." I look over my shoulder and usher Carca over to me. "My companion will ensure that you return safely to the River bank. There are dark forces at work in this forest. Follow his command, and do not challenge it."

Keira. Carca's voice rumbles in my mind. I do not support this decision.

I care not if you support it, I reply, looking over at him. But you will abide.

The Breyta's eyes burn into mine like the very Fires of Mordor. You could be running into a trap. Do not do this without me.

Heed my words, Carca.

Having gotten my point across, I shoot him one last look before turning to Boromir. "Do not take advantage of my compassion, Boromir of Gondor."

I step around the man, then begin to sprint further up the hill. My legs, though not as fleet as the slowest Elf, do well to propel me far and fast along the uneven turf. Twigs snap beneath my heavy tread, and I winch as a hard pine branch slaps me across the face. The frozen wood rakes painfully across my skin, leaving a deep abrasion in its wake. The trees prove to be interesting to navigate around, not to mention the large boulders jutting out from the ground. Minding my footing, I work to set my pace at a brisk run. The hill has begun to level out, and the further I go, the more nervous I become. There is no telling what lies ahead of me.

"Come on, Keira." I wipe absentmindedly at my cheek. If I wasn't in such a rush, the sight of my fingertips coming back crimson might startle me. But my mind is far too preoccupied to worry about my own injuries. The only thing on my mind is Frodo, and him alone.

Faster, you have to go faster!

With one last burst of energy, I allow my feet to propel me through a large cluster of foliage. Leaves rain down around me as I come to a grinding halt, shaking twigs and brambles from my hair. In front of me lies a good sized clearing, with the ancient Seat of Seeing making up its center. I have reached the top of Amon Hen. The sound of scuffling alerts me, and I step out from behind the cover of a tree in order to further take in the sight before me.

My heart drops as I realize that I am not alone.

I note in befuddlement that not only Frodo, but Aragorn, as well, stand beside the great structure. The Ranger has begun to approach the hobbit, his gaze locked on Frodo's outstretched hand. My eyes widen as I catch sight of the Ring nestled in his palm.

What is he thinking?

Just as I am about to intervene, Aragorn kneels down before him and closes the Halfing's hand over the wicked object. His eyes are soft with understanding.

"I would have gone with you to the end," he says. "Into the very fires of Mordor."

"I know," says Frodo in reply. "Look after the others. Especially Sam. He will not understand." Aragorn nods, his features solemn. Then, suddenly the Ranger's face twists in fear, and he leaps to his feet.

"Go Frodo," he says, drawing his sword. I follow his gaze to see that an eerie blue glow has begun to seep out from the hobbit's scabbard. Sting, his rather short yet powerful blade, is of Elvish make, forged to glow whenever Orcs or Goblins are nearby.

Which, much to my dismay, does not bode well for us.

"Run!" cries Aragorn. When Frodo hesitates once more, the Ranger shouts louder. "Run!"

Finally, the hobbit turns heel and makes a mad dash into forest. I watch him go, mouth agape in shock, before drawing up Aduial. Aragorn has begun to walk out from beneath the Seat of Seeing, sword raised in preparation to fight. Standing before him is a massive gathering of not Orcs, but Uruk-hai, instead. They are imposing beasts, standing roughly six feet tall and built stronger than any natural creature should be. But such things do not daunt Aragorn, nor do they strike fear into me.

Summoning my strength, I step out from my cover amongst the trees and twiddle my sword in challenge. The creatures let out a synchronized bellow, their mangled fangs gnashing grotesquely.

You stand not alone, Aragorn, I say silently, striding up beside him. I fight with you now.

He glances back at me, lips stretched into a half-smile. "Then let us even the odds."

I grin back at him, and with a bloodcurdling roar the first wave of Uruk-hai charge. Metal clashes against metal as the creatures bear down upon us. Aragorn cuts down the first few with ease, and I plunge my sword into one beast's stomach before wrenching it out to decapitate a second. The creatures' garbled howls fill the air as another wave joins in with the first, this time pushing us back towards the ancient ruins. I aim a swipe at a particularly large Uruk before leaping nimbly onto the Seat's stairs. Aragorn follows suit as the creatures swarm up after us. Uruk after screaming Uruk falls to the ground as Aragorn and I hack them off the stairwell, splattering black blood onto the stone. One beast sends its hatchet spinning towards my head, and I duck down just as the blade sails over my nose.

The shock of nearly having my head cloven off ignites within me a deep and powerful rage, and with a cry of anger I extend a hand towards the beast. "Runya e orto!"

A sound like crackling lighting explodes from my hand. Not a moment later, a shard of pure energy crashes down into the Uruk's chest. The resounding aftershock sends some of the beasts scrabbling for cover. Aragorn looks over at me, his eyes wide with disbelief as the ground trembles beneath us. His momentary distraction allows an Uruk to sneak behind him, its axe raised in preparation to cut him down.

"Behind you!" I yelp, but there is no need. Not a moment after I have spoken, an earth-shattering roar splits through the air, and a black blur slams into the unfortunate beast. Both creatures tumble down from the rooftop and proceed to grovel on the ground beneath. The Uruk swings its weapon aimlessly before being stilled by a bite to throat. There is no mistaking the familiar golden eyes of Carca as he looks up at me, fangs dripping with blood.

"Carca," I whisper. As if on cue, two more figures burst through the foliage. Legolas and Gimli. Slicing through yet another opponent, I watch in awe as the dwarf plunges straight into the fray, heaving his axe like a madman. His Elven companion keeps his distance, however, and instead fells his enemies by means of a longbow.

Go!" Legolas shouts. "Both of you!"

With a grunt I shove back an approaching creature just as Aragorn barrels past me. With a cry of, "Elendial!" he leaps down upon the mass of Uruk-hai. I shoot a volt of magic down after him, disintegrating five beasts and giving me a clear spot to jump.

"To me, Carca!" I yell, jumping down to land beside the Ranger. My companion gives a snarl of menace as he hurls an Uruk into a nearby tree, snapping its spine and killing it instantly. Five more creatures come to stand in the place of their fallen companion, growling and spitting at the Breyta. Carca simply grins before bounding over them, his back paws slashing at their helms.

"Your timing is impeccable," I say, elbowing an Uruk in the face before spinning round towards the Wolf.

"The commotion could be heard from a mile away." A large Uruk-hai makes the mistake of landing a sword cut on Carca's shoulder. A yowl of pain tears out from his throat, and, eyes flaring, the Breyta whips around to face the beast. They share a look of malcontent before Carca rakes his claws down its chest. Blood spurts upon the Wolf's face as the mangled corpse falls to the ground, gurgling and twitching.

Enraged, I lash out with Aduial, striking down two creatures in a single swipe. "Where is Boromir?" Carca leaps out in front of me. His massive frame flattens the last remaining Uruk-hai and clears a path for me in turn.

"I released him upon hearing your calls." Carca spins around to face me. "He said he was to follow after me, but no doubt was delayed by the enemy."

"Carca, how could you?" I cry. "Boromir must be up to his knees in Uruks!"

"As… are…we!"

I seethe at him and am preparing to shoot back a retaliation of my own when a loud yowl suddenly reaches my ears. I look over to the side to see an injured Uruk struggling to regain its footing. There is a bloody stump where its right arm should be. With a vicious snarl Carca lunges forward and rips out the creature's throat, ending its strangled misery. Pulling a face, the Breyta spits out a mouthful of black flesh before turning towards me once more. "I had no choice but to leave him," he says. "It was that or risk losing you."

Frowning, I open my mouth to reply but am cut short by a sound that turns the very blood in my veins to ice. The wailing cry of an ox-horn. It calls out from deep within the forest, as clear and piercing as the daylight that streams down through the treetops.

The Horn of Gondor.

Legolas shouts out the very words I had been thinking. Aragorn, having thrown aside his most recent kill, gives a yell of anger. Something within me snaps, and I feel what little hope I had within me seep down into nothingness. "No," I whisper, then louder, "Hold on, Boromir!"

Before Carca can stop me, I shove past him and bolt out into the forest. The landscape around me becomes nothing more than a blur as I race towards the sound of the horn. A flood of Uruks has begun to wave out before me, their heavy steps sending tremors throughout the earth. They, too, heard the horn blast. And it does not take a wise person to know what it signifies.

A great roar thunders through the treetops, followed closely by a groveled scream. Carca has begun his pursuit. His presence roasts inside of my mind like a blazing wildfire, scorching through my thoughts and memories as he works to intervene.

Keira!

Keira, stop!

You cannot fight this battle alone!

I ignore his desperate pleas and instead concentrate on what lies ahead of me. Carca's voice soon becomes nothing more than a receding echo as our connection flickers out, like a stray flame caught in the wind, before becoming no more.

I'm coming, Boromir. Just hold on.

I can just barely make out the black figures of Uruk-hai as they swarm far up ahead of me. Their terrible cries pierce through the still forest air, sending trills of fear ricketing down my spine. Fear not just for myself, but for Boromir, as well. The sheer number of foes up against him is massive. He is sure to be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes. Seconds, even.

If I do not intervene, I am sentencing him to death.

A second horn blast sounds all the clearer, followed shortly by another. I dodge my way through a cluster of boulders, my breath coming out in hot pants. Time is running out. Every passing moment might the last for the Gondorian. The wind whips me in the face as I sprint across a stone bridge leading up to the rippling mass of Uruks.

Amidst the chaos unfolding before me, I am barely able to make out the form of a man as he prepares to fend off the creatures drawing closer towards him. One beast charges out ahead of the others, lunging at Boromir with his sword drawn. The man ducks the Uruk's blow before flipping it over onto its back. Only then do I see the true reason behind his efforts. Merry and Pippin stand beside him, their eyes bright with anger. The two cousins pounce on the wounded creature and begin to stab at it with their blades. Not a moment afterwards, a second Uruk rushes to challenge Boromir, and then another.

"Run!" shouts the man, plunging his sword into one of the creatures' abdomen.

The hobbits retreat to a safer distance, settling instead on pelting rocks at the foul beasts. A grunt of effort sounds from Boromir as he works to defend them, but he is oblivious the fact the he does not fight alone.

"Death!"

With a cry of rage I leap forward before plunging my blade into the back of the nearest Uruk-hai. The beast throws its head back with a roar as I wrench Aduial free of it, my face splattered with foul-smelling blood. Boromir looks up briefly, his face twisted in shock and awe as I slice through two more foes. Merry and Pippin each give a gleeful shout of, "Keira!"

Pulling my sword from yet another body, I rise up just in time to parry the blow of a massive black Uruk. The creature snarls at me, revealing malformed fangs that reek of decay. A horrible screeching ensues as its iron blade grinds against Aduial's polished edge.

Setting my jaw, I shove back against it before delivering a brutal side kick to the Uruk's knee. A revolting crunch ensues as the creature's leg gives way beneath the sheer and unexpected force of the blow. The Uruk doubles over in pain, and I severe its head in one clean blow. Having defeated the beast, I then turn my attention towards Boromir.

Bodies liter the ground around the man as he downs Uruk after Uruk, his sword raking through flesh and bone as if they were made of butter. Despite the distance between us, his stormy eyes are wuick to seek me out amongst the carnage. We share a meaningful look, and Boromir dips his head to me.

"Kill her!"

The terrible voice sounds from behind me. Spinning on heel, my eyes are met with the sight of a lone Uruk-hai, standing far up on the hill with a great longbow in hand.

"Kill the she-elf!" the monster bellows. Its yellowed teeth bare in menace as it draws back the bowstring. A single arrow, shining a polished ebony, is knocked and aimed directly at Boromir's chest. The bitterness of reality stabs into my heart as I hear the jarring twang that comes after.

No.

Before I have a chance to think, my feet are propelling me through the mass of Uruks and out towards Boromir. With a cry of despair I leap out in front of him, hand extended, lips parted to form words I shall never speak, just as the Uruk's arrow slams directly into its target.

A target that was not intended, but a target all the same.

An incredible wave of pain surges through me as the arrow sinks deeply into my shoulder. Its barbed tip scraps against my collarbone before coming to rest inside my muscle. My lips part in a garbled wail as I stumble to the side, all thoughts of battle forgotten. Blood has begun to seep out from the wound in great quantity, dyeing the fabric of my tunic an angry shade of crimson. My vision grows dark and splotchy at the edges.

A nearby Uruk bellows an insult at me, and I am utterly helpless as one of its comrades shoves me to my knees. My cheekbone cracks against a hard treeroot, splitting the soft skin on impact, as I collapse face-first. The end shaft of the arrow snaps off, sending a fresh jolt of agony through my body. Aduial slips free of my grasp and clatters to the ground beside me.

Injured and weak, I can do nothing but cry out in despair as an Uruk reaches down to retrieve my fallen blade. Its fat fingers wrap around the hilt, resting in the same place as mine once did.

"Keira!" Boromir's cry rings in my ears. I just manage to turn my head towards him, trying desperately to regain my bearings. The man's image appears strangely distorted as he desperately works to fend off my attackers. But he is far too late. Another crack of the Uruk's bow sends an arrow plunging straight into Boromir's chest. A gasp of pain escapes his lips, and his body sags forward.

Get up, Keira. Get up and help him!

"Boromir," I croak. "Boromir, no." Vision wavering, I press my forehead into the ground before lifting up with my arms. Even that small of an action nearly makes me black out, and I collapse with a muffled cry. My physical options are depleted at best. I cannot heal myself. Not in this state. But I have no other choice. There are no more options.

I have to stand and fight.

Mustering up both courage and strength, I curl my knees up underneath me before rocking back onto my heels. A wave of nausea sweeps over me as I feel blood beginning to pool in my mouth. Looking to Boromir once more, I am met with a sight to behold. Despite his wound, the Gondorian has once again begun to fend of the Uruks. His utter determination gives me the boost I need in order to rise to my feet. The pain following my decision rockets through my entire being, but I do not allow it to affect me.

Then, suddenly, it happens again.

A second arrow plunges into the Boromir's abdomen. The man gives a grunt before falling to his knees. Merry and Pippin watch on, horrorstruck, as their first protector falls prey to the strong bite of the arrow. Their gazes flit then towards my bloody form. One horror to the next. My face contorts in sorrow as I watch the man gulp for air before looking towards the hobbits. Boromir's eyes become drastically clearer as he takes in the sight of them. Then, with a grimace of agony, the man rises once more to fight. The Uruk who shot him snarls in annoyance.

In that moment, I am stricken with an emotion that I have not felt in a very long time. Hatred. Deep and ugly, it boils in my blood and courses through my veins.

"Leave him alone!" I shout. My eyes begin to burn as I extend a hand out to the front of me, watching as tendrils of magic begin to weave in and out between my fingers. But this is no ordinary magic. This magic is not blue like the sea or sky. It is not pure and beautiful as often is the case. No, this magic shines a deep and dreadful gold. A radiant glow transpires beneath my skin, giving me the impression of a living flame. Several Uruks turn round, their ugly brows knitted in confusion. They must've deemed me to no longer be a threat.

What a mistake that was for them.

With a cry of pain and rage I let go of the energy, releasing a jagged shard of lighting that hurdles straight towards them. The bolt crashes directly into one Uruk's chest, and the beast flies backwards a good ten feet before disintegrating into black dust. Its comrades yowl in anguish and fear as they scrabble for cover, only to be swallowed by a plume of orange flame.

"Get back!" I scream at them. "Get back, or I'll do it again!"

Several more Uruks fill in to take the others places, only to meet the same grissly fate. My teeth clench as I fell foe after foe, setting their still corpses alight with fire. But a deep magic is only as strong as the one who wields it, and my powers are failing.

Suddenly, a sharp whizzing sound snaps me out of my rage, and I look up just in time to watch as an arrow comes speeding towards my face. But this time, I am prepared. Eyes narrowed, I raise my hand and halt the object mid-air. Its steely point glimmers only inches away from my face.

My lips curl in a sneer, and the Uruk archer lets out a roar. "You want a fight, beast?" The arrow slowly pivots midair until it is no longer aimed at me, but at my enemy, instead. "You want my blood?" The Uruk-hai surrounding me turn to look at their leader, and Boromir gives a sharp cry as he plunges his sword into yet another beast. He won't last much longer. I have to help him, but to do that, I must first be rid of the creature that threatens his life. The one who spilt both of our blood.

"Keira!" I hear Boromir shout. "Go with the hobbits!"

His words move me to look around towards him. The man kicks back an Uruk before gazing up at me. "Go!" he says again. "While you still—"

Boromir never finishes his sentence.

My lips part in horror as a black arrow flashes down from the hillside before piercing him directly above his heart. The sheer force of the blow brings the brave man to his knees. Blood trickles down from the wound in a lazed stream; blood that signifies my worst fear.

The Son of Gondor's fight is over.

"No," I whisper. The bright aura of magic dissipates around me as I watch the life trickle out of him, one crimson drop at a time. The Uruk-hai seem to sense that their enemy is done for, as they immediately begin charging on ahead of him. Merry and Pippin each give a cry before leaping out in front of them, swinging their swords like mad, only to be slung over the shoulders of two burly Uruks. Small arms scrabble against iron armor as the beasts begin to haul them off.

"Merry!" My scream echoes throughout the forest as I begin to charge after them. "Pippin!"

"Keira!" The latter's cry is muffled slightly. Tears stream out from the corners of my eyes as I try desperately to give chase, despite having lost what little remained of my hope. My feet pound hard against the forest floor, but I know that my efforts are in vain. The Uruk-hai move at unbelievable speed. I would hardly be able to catch up with them even if I were uninjured.

Dejected, I hardly notice when my foot catches on an upturned tree root, sending me tumbling to the ground. The hard impact knocks the breath out of me, and I wince as blood spatters out from my mouth.

"Come back." My head dips down in sorrow as their cries fade away into the distance. "Please come back."

I have failed them. I have broken my promise to keep them safe. Everything I did, every second I spent watching after them, is nothing but the dust of memories. They are gone now, and there is nothing I can do about it.

The sound of hard footsteps meets my ears, startling me from my dark thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye I see a lone Uruk come to stand beside me, its lips spread wide in a grin. "Not so mighty now, are we?" it taunts. The beast gives a hissing laugh before reaching down and taking hold of the back of my neck. A silent scream rises up in my throat as the Uruk picks me up as if I weighed no more than a feather. Holding me out before it, the creature's black gaze bores into me like a hot dagger.

"Perhaps now you'll think before you act…" It pauses. "Were-rider."

With a snarl of disgust the Uruk drops me. I fall to the ground without resistance, my legs crumpled uselessly beneath me. Moaning softly, I watch through glazed eyes as the beast shoots one last look at me before bustling off after its comrades. Something bright glints in its hands, and my breath hitches. Aduial. My beautiful Elvish blade, once shining as bright as the sun, glistens now with the grim red sheen of blood. My blood. I hard hardly felt its stinging bite in my already wounded shoulder. The feeling of my flesh being cleaved beneath it was weak compared to the real agony in my heart. The pain of defeat is something that I have felt before, but never like this.

"I'm sorry."

The hoarse whisper can come from only one person. Boromir. The man resides a good distance away from me. I am just able to make out his slouched figure though the sea of black Uruk-hair as they swarm throughout the forest. "I couldn't save them," he continues, his voice thick with sorrow and blood. "I have failed you all."

Somehow, impossibly, I force myself to reply. "You have failed no one," I say. Slowly, I reach out my arm towards him. Despite my body being trampled beneath countless boots, even that slightest of gestures seems to give him reassurance. "You are brave, Boromir…" I gasp in pain as an Uruk kicks me hard in the side. "So…brave."

Several moments later, the swarm has moved onwards, leaving only a single member behind. I watch through hate-filled eyes as the Uruk archer steps up to face the man, its painted face crinkled with malcontent. The black warbow, harbinger of Boromir's cruel fate, glints wickedly in the beast's hand as it knocks a fourth and final arrow.

A hard knot forms in my throat as I meet his gaze once more. Tears stream down my cheeks while blood trickles from the corner of Boromir's mouth.

Whatever happens, I whisper to his mind. Know that I am glad to have fought with you.

The Uruk-hair snarls, aiming the arrow directly at the Gondorian's chest. Boromir looks up at the beast, his face pale and balmy. He has begun to wheeze for air. The ghastly creature draws back hard on the bowstring, preparing to end its challenger once and for all.

Then, just as the Uruk has taken him in its sights, a warbled howl pierces through the air. Not a moment latter, Aragorn leaps out from the foliage and tackles the creature. Man and Uruk tumble to the ground, the later with a roar of rage. The beast parries his blows with ease before hurdling him into a nearby tree. I wince as the Ranger's body contacts the wood with a solid thump. Aragorn fumbles to his feet, only to be faced with the sight of a great black shield hurdling towards him. The iron slab nearly missies cutting his head off and instead pins his neck against the trunk. The man struggles to free himself as the Uruk strides towards him, fangs bared.

Finally, Aragorn manages to slip out of the shield's confines. He is not a moment too soon, as the Uruk swings its sword directly where his head was. But instead of meeting with flesh, the blade embeds itself deeply into the wooden tree trunk. The creature snarls in annoyance as it works to free the weapon. Using the Uruk's distraction to his advantage, Aragorn rolls out from beneath the beast in order to cut at its legs. The monster hisses and aims a stab at him, but the Ranger dodges.

With nimble fingers Aragorn unsheathes one of the Uruk's daggers before stabbing it hard into the creature's thigh. A yowl of pain gurgles up in its throat, and the Uruk grabs hold of the man's shoulders before hurling him a good ten feet down the hill. The Ranger slams hard into the ground, scrabbling for air as his enemy takes hold of the discarded dagger. I watch in disgust as it draws its tongue along the blade before chucking it at Aragorn. The man raises his own sword in order to swipe the weapon aside, creating a metal clang that rattles in my ears. The Uruk growls, reaching down to pick up its dark blade as Aragorn begins to advance on it. There is a fiery gleam in his eye, the same look he had in Moria.

The heir of Isildur is prepared to finish what he started.

Giving a yell, Aragorn bears down upon the Uruk. The creature is barely able to pary his blows as the man pushes it back down the hill. It takes only a few moments for the Uruk to let down its guard. Its sword hand falters for a half-second, but that is all it takes for Aragorn to see his chance. The man swipes the creature's blade out of its hands before cleaving its arm off in one fell swipe. He then plunges his sword deep into the beast's stomach. Snarling, the Uruk grabs hold of the blade and pulls it further into its body. Black blood dribbles down from the creature's mouth. Then, after brief tug-of-war, Aragorn wrenches out the sword before promptly decapitating his foe. The Urk's body crumples to the ground, twitching and writhing.

It's over. It's finally over.

Aragorn stumbles a bit as he turns to look upon the countless Uruk-hai corpses. The Ranger's gaze flickers further down the hill before coming to rest on Boromir. A look of horror crosses his face, and the man wastes no time to rush over to his fallen friend.

"They took the little ones," Boromir gasps out as Aragorn kneels down beside him.

"Lie still," he says softly. The Ranger surveys his wounds through sad eyes. He knows just as good as I do that there is nothing to be done for him.

"Frodo." The Gondorian leans up ever so slightly, blood dribbling from his mouth. "Where is Frodo?"

There is a short pause before Aragorn replies. "I let Frodo go."

My heart breaks upon hearing his words. Frodo. Innocent, wide-eyed Frodo has chosen the path of solitude. I image him walking alone through the forest, dreading what lies ahead of him. A fresh wave of tears blur my vision as pain brings me back to the bitterness of reality.

"Then you did what I could not." Boromir's voice has begun to falter as places a hand on his comrade's neck. "I tried to take the Ring from him."

Aragorn gazes down at him sadly, and I can just make out the tears glistening in his eyes. "The Ring is beyond our reach now," he says.

"Forgive me. I did not see. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir," the Ranger whispers. "You fought bravely, and have kept your honor." Aragorn glances down at the man's ravaged body, his hands lowered in preparation to remove one of the three arrows that pierce him.

"Leave it!" cries the Gondorian, then softer. "It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness." He pauses, his voice straining. "And my city to ruin."

Aragorn grips hard onto Boromir's arm. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall." A single tear rolls down his cheek. "Nor our people fail."

"Our people." Boromir manages the weakest of smiles before wincing suddenly, as if recalling something painful. "Keira," he says, then louder. "Go to her. I know not how she fares, but her wounds are many."

Aragorn looks over his shoulder. His green eyes flit about urgently before coming to rest on my still form. His face contorts painfully, and he moves to stand.

"No." My voice is hoarse and ragged, but he hears it nonetheless. "Stay." Aragorn turns back towards Boromir, his shoulders hunched in newfound despair. Then, slowly, the Ranger reaches down to take hold of the man's sword. He then places it upon Boromir's chest, where it seems to shine all the new.

It is in that moment when a lithe shape comes to stand in the farthest reaches of my vision. At first it appears blurry and unfocused, but after a moment the figure bleeds into clarity. My heart leaps as I take in the tall form of Legolas. He gazes down upon the scene before him, a look of deep sorrow in his eyes. Gimli comes to stand behind the Elf, head bowed in reverence.

"Legolas." My voice is barely above a whisper, but I well know the keenness of Elven ears. If I know him at all, he will hear me. "Legolas." The Prince frowns slightly and turns his head towards me. Gimli follows suit, and two sets of eyes come to rest upon the cherry blood staining the ground in front of me, then to the bodies of Uruks piled up around it. After a moment of searching, Legolas's blue gaze seeks me out among the carnage.

"Keira," he breathes. His fair face takes on a look of unmasked horror as he rushes to my side. Gentle hands take hold of my own as Legolas kneels down before me, knuckled marked with blood. "What have they done to you?"

"I…tired… to save them," I wheeze. "They were… taken."

"Keira," Legolas whispers once more. I sigh softly as his hand travels up to stroke my matted hair. The other brushes bits of dirt from my cheek. "There was nothing you could do," he says.

I cough once, groaning as a warm ache spreads through my lungs. "Where is Carca? I heard his… his footsteps. He was following me."

Legolas's hand falters. "I have not seen him since the battle at the Seat."

A clammy feeling washes over me as I remember the howl that sounded shortly before Aragorn's arrival. There is no doubt that it was Carca's voice, but I realize now that it was not a battle cry that I heard. It was a plea for aid. If I had been well enough to decipher it, perhaps I might have been able to help him.

Head spinning, it takes all I have within me not to fall into unconsciousness.

Carca, where are you?

Legolas gently slips his arms around my knees and back before rising to his feet. Blood dribbles out from my nose and down onto my lips as I crane my neck to look at him.

"Boromir…" A single tear streaks down my cheek. "Is he…?"

"Hush," sooths the Elf. "Save your strength." His body shields my smaller form against the bitter cold, and I allow myself to sag against him. Legolas holds me tightly as he makes his way back towards Gimli. I hear the dwarf give a sad whisper of, "Lass," as he teeters over to meet us. His hazel eyes are dropped with sorrow.

"Be at peace…Son of Gondor." It is Aragorn's voice. I look over and watch as the Ranger plants a kiss atop Boromir's brow before rising to his feet. The fair-haired Gondorian has at last fallen silent, his eyes open yet unseeing. A lump forms in my throat as I take in the paleness of his face. The cherry pigment staining his lips. I press my forehead against Legolas's jaw.

"Do not blame yourself for Boromir's fate," the Prince whispers. "It was sealed long ago."

"I thought he was weak," I say. "I thought he was without honor. But I was terribly wrong." A sob racks through my body, shaking us both. "Let me say goodbye to him."

"Keira, you are in no state to…"

"Do it." My tone dismisses any hopes he had of arguing. Grudgingly, Legolas bears me over to the man before setting me down beside him. Boromir's sightless eyes stare upwards into the treetops, and I reach out to place a hand atop his own.

"I'm sorry… that I did not come sooner," I say shakily. "I treated you so poorly during the time in which we were in company with each other. You only ever wished to keep Frodo safe, but the Ring had other plans." Sighing, I close my eyes. "Your life was worth so much more than you deemed it to be. I can only pray that the afterlife is kinder to you than the one in which you lie now." Of course, there is no response. Boromir's life is long gone, taken away to some distance place where he will live out the years in peace. Blinking away tears, I reach out and brush his eyelids closed. "I will avenge your death, Boromir of Gondor. You will be remembered."

With that I fall into silence. Legolas crouches down beside me, his gentle eyes derived of their normal steel.

"It is time," the Prince says. "Your wounds need cleansing."

"How could I let this happen?" I turn to look at the Prince, tears falling freely down my cheeks. "I lost Carca and the cousins, and now Boromir is dead. All because I could not protect them when they needed me most."

Legolas blinks with understanding. "There was nothing to be done. If you hadn't left us when you did, Boromir would have died a much darker death. You gave him what he needed most."

I frown. "What?"

There is a moment of silence before Legolas reaches out to take me in his arms. "A friend, Keira. You gave him a friend."

---

The sky is grey when we cast Boromir's canoe into the River. The Gondorian's still body lies within it, his sword grasped tightly in his cold hands. The Horn of Gondor lies beside him, cleaved in two by an Uruk's blade, along with the many weapons of his enemies. Aragorn and the others had insisted upon gathering the swords and daggers of the fallen Uruks to pay tribute to the brave man's efforts.

The four of us now stand upon the Anduin's shoreline. Aragorn's clear voice pierces through the veil of silence in the form of a lament. Beautiful and pure, it drifts on through the air, echoing in all corners of the forest. Legolas and I listen in silence while Gimi leans upon his axe, brow drooped in sorrow.

While Aragorn's words work to sooth the memories of my traumatic afternoon, my mind is still spinning with the thoughts of one individual in particular. Carca. My companion is still nowhere to be found. We scoured the forest for any signs of him and found nothing. Not even so much as a patch of fure. Aragorn theorizes that the Uruks overpowered him shortly after I departed to aid Boromir. And, being that the beasts chose to capture Merry and Pippin, I can only assume that they took him along, as well. And with the sunset soon upon us, we will soon have no choice but to continue on without him.

Carca.

Carca, are you there?

Please, Carca. Can you hear me?

My mind calls go answered. Dejected, I allow my head to fall as I pinch the bridge of my nose. It has hardly been three months since our departure of Rivendell, and I have already lost Carca twice. But this time, it is not just cave walls separating us. It is miles of miles of rough and hilly terrain, not to mention the looming threat of the Lypta and Ringwraiths. While I can still feel the Breyta's presence in my head, it is drastically weaker. He is alive, but most likely unconscious. There will be no way of contacting him until he wakens.

And I am not certain when that will be.

As if sensing my silent distress, Legolas sidles closer to me. His shoulder presses up against my own, and I lean into him without hesitation. My eyes fall closed as I savor the feeling of his body next to my own. Legolas's cheek comes to rest upon the top of my head, a gesture that does well to comfort us both. We are grieving for reasons both different and the same. Although the Prince's bond with Carca and the hobbits is not nearly as strong as my own, his friendship with Boromir was. Elves react differently to death than humans do. They don't often witness it in their lifetimes, save during battle. To see a person dear to them slain in such a gruesome matter would be heartbreaking and at the same time intriguing. The very thought of passing into a second life so early is foreign to them. Legolas is no exception.

Moaning softly, I allow my body to curl tighter into the Elf's. A sharp spasm of pain rockets out from my shoulder, serving as a bitter remainder of my encounter with the Uruks. My wounds still ache despite having been cleaned and dressed, but the true agony at hand is not physical. It is in my very soul. I have lost my companion, I have lost my friends. I have even lost my beloved sword.

But with the steady heartbeat of Legolas in one ear and the voice of Aragorn in the other, I am able to let some of it go.

'Have you seen Borormir the Tall by moon or by starlight?

I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;

I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away

Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.

The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor

O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar

But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'

When at last the Ranger falls to silence, another voice takes his place. For a short moment I am too wrapped up in my own thoughts to notice, but then it hits me. The voice belongs to Legolas. As sweet and flowing as honey, every note vibrates in my bones as the Elven Prince begins a serenade of his own. My arms curl up around Legolas's back as I rest my head against his chest, allowing his words to lull me into a deep and peaceful trance.

From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;

The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.

'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?

Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'

'Ask not of me where he doth dwell – so many bones there lie

One the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;

So many of passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.

Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'

'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south

But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'

After Legolas finishes, the company watches in silence as Boromir's canoe tips over Rauros's edge. Its dark form disappears soundlessly into the mist, leaving not a trace. The only things that remain to remember the man by are his arm guards that were acquired by Aragorn. Dark blood stills stains their surface, but such battle marks do not daunt the Ranger. He strapped them tightly to his arms, where I do not doubt that they will remain for many days to come.

Perhaps the brave man of Gondor shall be a peace knowing that his memory will carry on with us until the very end.

"That was beautiful," I whisper to Legolas. "When do you learn to sing like that?"

"I have all my life," he replies. "All woodland Elves are taught to sing from an early age." A cold gust of wind snakes its way beneath my tunic, and I shiver violently. Legolas looks down at me, concern bright in his eyes, before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "Keira, I shall never wish to see you in such pain again. If it is your will, I take it now upon myself to care for you during your companion's…" He searches for a word. "…leave."

My heart pangs as I think of Carca and what horrors may lie ahead of him. Orcs are known for their terrible means of torture. Uruks will surely be no different. I look up at Legolas and allow his familiar face to bring me back from the darkness of my mind.

"My wounds will heal in time, mellon nin," I say. "As will my heart. But until then, your efforts will be appreciated."

We share a smile before gazing out towards the River. A lone boat rests upon the Eastern Shore, having belonged to Frodo and Sam moments before they departed into the forest. It appears that the Ringbearer will not be alone, after all. I find myself being grateful for Samwise Gamgee. If not for his watchful eye, Frodo would be going without aid. Such a journey cannot be taken by a single person. Even Carca would admit that.
"They must be far away now," I say. "Frodo and Sam. Mordor lies upon our very doorstep, it seems."

"You are right." Legolas stiffens considerably, as if having remembered something. "We must hurry if we are to reach them in time." He pulls away from me and makes for the boats.

"Legolas." My voice seems to halt him in place. Slowly, the Elf turns around to look at me. His eyes are pinched in sad understanding as I shake my head.

"You mean not to follow them?" he says to Aragorn. The Ranger sighs as he tightens his vambraces. Or should I say, Boromir's vambraces. He took them from the Gondorian's body in order to pay tribute to his fallen friend.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," he replies darkly.

"Then it has all been in vain." Legolas and I turn to watch as Gimli comes to stand beside us. "The Fellowship has failed."

Both Elf and dwarf step up to the man, their faces somber. Unsure of what to do, I come to stand in between them. Without Carca by my side, I feel as though a part of me has gone away. Like I am no longer whole.

I may be the Were-rider, but what is a Rider without her Bond?

"Not if we hold true to each other," Aragorn says. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, nor will we forsake Carca at his time of great need. Not while we have strength left." The Ranger steps back to sheath his dagger. "We travel light…" He smirks. "Let's hunt some Orc."

With that Aragorn races off into the forest. Gimli gives a shout of, "Yes!" before both he and Legolas rush after him. I move to follow, but am halted by a strange tingling sensation on the back of my neck. Like something is watching me. Frowning, I look over my shoulder and am met with a familiar sight.

The white stag stands upon the opposite Riverbank, its brilliant coat glistening gold in the sunlight. My eyes widen as the creature bends down to look at the beached canoe, then glances back towards me. Much to my surprise, I find a hint of concern in its black eyes.

Were-rider.

The billowy voice seems to transpire all around me. My lips part in astonishment as an ethereal glow emanates from the stag's unblemished hide.

"Was that you?" I whisper aloud.

He is coming, Were-rider. The animal blinks once. The Darkness is upon us all.

"What are you?" I take a step forward. "Who are you?"

Beware the prophecy.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the white stag vanishes. Leaves swirl about where the creature once stood, and I feel a shudder rack its way up my spine.

"Keira?"

Whipping around, I am met with the sight of Legolas gazing at me from within the forest. "Are you well?"

"Yes," I say, "Yes, I am quite fine."

"Then why have you not followed after us?"

I force a smile. "I have my reasons."

The Elf watches me for a moment. "Is it your wounds?" he inquires.

"Far from it. They do not pain me as they once did."

Legolas blinks once. "Come on, then," he says, extending a hand. "Aragorn will not falter."

Gathering my courage, I jog out to him before clasping hold of his wrist. The Prince's eyes shine as bright as diamonds as he gazes down at me.

"Tell me, Keira. What is it that troubles you?"

"It's…I lost my sword." Not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth. "An Uruk took it."

"Then it's a good thing that I brought these." Legolas lifts up the base of his tunic, revealing the glimmering silver forms of twin Elvish long blades. I clasp a hand over my mouth in shock.

"I—I thought they were with Carca. I put them in the saddle this morning!"

"I offered to take them not long after your departure." The Elf grabs the blades before holding them out to me. "For safe keeping."

I slide my hands beneath his, stroking his knuckles with my fingertips, before allowing him to place the knives in my upturned palm. Eyes swollen with tears, I sheath the silver blades beneath my belt loop.

"Oh Legolas," I whisper. "Thank you. A hundred times, thank you."

Smiling softly, Legolas nods up ahead. "Let us go now, mellon nin. There are others in need of rescue."

A newfound hope begins to swell up within me. Casting one last look at the Riverbank, I take hold of the Prince's hand. Our fingers twine together, bound in a grip as strong as iron.

And with the sun at our backs and the world of night ahead, we run

---

So it came to pass that as the last rays of the sun cascaded down through the treetops, the brave Hunters began their pursuit of the Uruk-hai. Upon the sandy banks of the River Anduin, their Fellowship had been broken. Boromir was lost to the steely bite of Uruk arrows. Frodo and Sam had set off towards the dark land, tasked to destroy that which had befallen their company. Carca and the remaining hobbits were captured by the hard hands of the enemy.

Yet there were four still remaining that held strong to hope. Where the road ahead would lead them, none could tell. But with the eyes of Elves to lead them by day and the star of Elendial to guide them at night, one thing was for certain.

Middle Earth would never be the same again.

---

*Moriarty voice* Did you miss me?

Oh my gosh, was November hectic! I had my wisdom teeth extracted, accomplished tryouts for my volleyball team, and managed to get sick not once, not twice, but THREE FREAKING TIMES. Ugh! I can only pray that December is kinder to me!

But hey, look on the bright side... BOTFA COMES OUT IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS! I know for some of you its a lot sooner than that, so while y'all are watching it, I'll be stuck waiting in my bedroom and wallowing in Fanfiction drafts until the 17th. Growl. It's going to be well worth the wait, though!

Please forgive me for the longgggg wait. I have finals to study for and projects to finish, so bear with me until the holidays!

Thank you all for sticking with me! xx

-PC