Hello everyone, I must say it has been a good year, I have written a lot and done much. But I am sad to say that this is the last chapter for the year. I have been writing for months nonstop now, and I am in need of rest and video games. Desperately so, I need to play Dragon Age Inquisition and World of Warcraft. I haven't played them at all!

Anyway it has been a great run, this story is finally back on the high horse and doing well, and I intend for that trend to continue. Now I would like to thank Fantasywind for his help with this chapter, he helped me a lot with this and put me on the right track when writing it. Helping with the Lore and the characters, and I appreciate it.

He is officially the lore keeper for this story now, making sure I keep it right. Thanks Fantasywind!

Reviews:

Jarjaxle: Yes, the Lore will be followed, but I will be adding certain elements from some games into the story, such as War in the North and Battles for Middle Earth. The Fellowship I do not want to spoil. Also Zul'kal is a Shadow Hunter, a skilled warrior of his clan, and also his actions are in retaliation for the attack upon him, which in a way was uncalled for. Also he knows how to instil fear in his enemies, and he does it well.

Tarrangar: Yeah, I usually only rewrite if I feel I have made a major error, in this the only errors are the lore, and I have someone to fix that now.

Mbh040: Varro, I will get to him soon enough, trust me.

Leapinglemur: Yeah, but if you did it you would look like a pedo. Also here is a chapter a little bit on him. Broken Spacebars are the devils call sign, especially when he is on the internet!

KrystylSky: I will in the coming year, trust me.

Warlordomega: Glad you like it, also things are coming full circle now, soon the three will be united and things will start being revealed and plans will be made.

: Also you are right, Shadow of Mordor is Awesome! Also you are right, Arcane energies are not as abundant on Arda as on Azeroth, in fact on certain locations have it. Also Mairne receives his powers from nature and the elements, while Varro receives his powers from the same place as the Wraiths, the Shadow Realm. Also with the Holidays I want to finish up some work over my free time so when the new years come in I can just work at a nice calm pace.

Ultima-owner: Yes, Saronite is congealed blood, similar to how blood hardens when it leaves the body. This is the same, it's just that the properties of it make it so hard that it becomes a solid metal. Which is right because blood has traces of certain metals in it, and Saronite could be no different.

Kiue Jin: According to some lore, the Ring Wraiths are all from different castes in life, Kings, Sorcerers, Warriors, Heroes. One was a sorcerer that stole magical power from others. That's right, they can have an idea, but without a good idea even powerful forces such as the Wraith's can be beaten. As Aragorn was able to drive them off singlehandedly before.

Yeah, Varro is mad, he is always mad. And you are right about that three hundred mile thing as well. Also Sevri will be stuck in Osgiliath for the moment, she cannot leave because she simply doesn't know where to go. And leaving those in need is not her way.

Iprefertoread86: Glad you like it, got another dose for you right here.

LastTywinFan: Thank you, I do try my best.

Lordkalel: Glad you like it, also in Warcraft they are referred to as Ancients, spirits that inhabit trees and roam through them. Also Mairne would not be the one to converse with them, it would be Rosaria who would be better suited to that, as she is a Druid and they work best with nature and life.

Guest #1: Glad you like it, also Varro will be making a special appearance in later chapters, he will be angry and he will be killing, that is assured.

Alright, those are done, now enjoy your read.

Lords of Warcraft

Chapter 24: Treat the Wound

Elrond looked at the arrow in his hand, his mind idly thinking over the last four days as he examined it closely. Much has occurred over the last few weeks that have given him concern, news of the One Ring and the approaching shadows of Mordor being what dwelt on his mind the most. Dark forces were in motion and all seem to be on the path of destroying Middle Earth, and with the state of the world he did not think that these lands would sustain another Great War.

He could not hope for the other races of Middle Earth to quell this coming storm, they did not possess the power or unity to fully combat it. Even the Kingdoms of men were divided, their golden ages have passed and now they slowly wither under the test of time. In his six and a half millennia of life, he had never seen such dark days, even when the battle at the base of Mount Doom began he had great hope for victory.

Now it would seem that it is a fleeting feeling. For so many things have arisen that had shaken his thoughts of them achieving a second and final victory against the Dark Lord.

First word had reached him that Gandalf had moved into their borders, and that three Wraith's were on his heels when he entered. Through the efforts of Glorfindel they had been driven off, they did not dare face him without their numbers at full. But the others still roam the Lonelands, unhindered by any in their search for the ring and its bearer.

Glorfindel had left immediately when he had been told, following after the Riders and searching for the Ring-bearer to bring him back to Rivendell. Only he could assure that this Frodo Baggins was brought back alive with the Ring of Power, he was the only one who could face the Wraith alone and leave unscathed. But even with the certainty the ring would return to Rivendell, he could not help but feel his thoughts turn to much darker topics.

Even with the ring here it could not be defended, even with the powers of the elves and his ring, Vilya, he would not be able to protect it from the gaze of the Great Eye. It could not stay here, not forever.

This coupled with so many developments had taken much of his time and energy, there was much riding on the next few months and he needed to be ready. His sons out searching for the fallen star in the North and with Riders to the East. His Mother-in-law, Galadrial, had sent him a letter; he had not the time to read it, he had too much on his mind to listen to what she had to ask of him. He knew her words were important but he felt compelled to keep to his task and figure out the creatures that seem to have come to his world.

Over and over again the thoughts churned in his mind of what they were, what they could be, and what their presence spelled for their world. The one he captured seemed almost immune to its wounds, capable of regenerating itself. In only three hours from its second capture was its wounds mostly healed, and from today's account, it had formed a new palm. With the fingers starting to grow back slowly, it was truly shocking to see such form of regeneration.

Even their healer said that it seemed to be regenerating his own internal organs as well, something he had never heard of before. Too regenerate your own lost limbs and internal organs seemed almost impossible to do, for any race or species he knew of, but this creature was doing it. Even when in a state of death it preserved itself and recovered. Even his greatest skills in alchemy and healing could not replicate such power, nothing he knew explained to him what this creature was and its capabilities.

'It should be killed, before anyone else is hurt.'

That thought came to mind, a part of him agreed with that assessment, that creature was dangerous. If it escaped again there is no telling who may die, who it could go after, but it was certain to cause great harm if it were to escape. But he doubted that with guards upon its cell it could escape unnoticed, or uninjured.

'Kill it now,'

He needed it alive, he needed to know more about where it came from and the powers it possesses. He needed to know what it was capable of. If that was discovered maybe then could something be found, killing it prematurely would be foolish.

'Kill it now,'

Not yet, he still needed to find out where it came from…

'Now,'

Elrond furrowed his brow, why was he thinking like this? Where was this coming from?

Before he could finish his thought he felt something prick his hand, looking down he glared at the arrowhead, it had cut itself along the back of his palm, between his thumb and index finger. What had caused that? He wasn't fooling around with it, so why did he cut himself like that?

With a frown he placed it down on the table and messaged his temple, things had been becoming too chaotic for his liking. Perhaps it would be best to retire for the evening, he needed to rest and clear his mind.

"Father…"

Elrond looked up, hearing his daughter call from the door, but he saw no one there, just an empty entryway. He furrowed his brow, maybe he should retire early for the night, his thoughts were obviously not in perfect order. Especially if he is hearing things.

"Help me…"

He froze as he heard the desperate call, his steely gaze turning to the door. He moved towards it, looking for anything that showed something was amiss, his heart steadily thumbed in his chest. It betrayed the nervousness that he has not felt since the Last Great Alliance, something that he did not think he would feel again. But a part of him felt anxious, not with what he had heard, but as if it was telling him of something wrong with the world around him. As if something evil was here.

Elrond moved down the hall, searching through the darkness, the moonlight giving only a bare amount of illumination to see what was present, but it hid behind the thick clouds within the sky. He halted when he heard something or more correctly, when he didn't, the sound of his foot tapping along the stone floor. He glanced down at the ground, watching the place where his right foot lay, he saw something there. A black smudge on the ground, thick and smeared along the stone floor, he couldn't see much anything else.

When the moon shone brighter, coming out from behind the clouds, he saw it; a deep red substance lined the floor. But it was not only there, the walls, the columns and even the plants that line the hall were doused in the liquid. But it was only when he saw it that he realised that he could smell it as well. The copper taste that hit his nostrils as soon as he saw it, he realised then that the entire hall had been smeared with blood.

"Father…!"

Elrond's eyes widened, his heart beating harder as the cold fingers of dread grasped it tightly. Without letting those same hands hold him back he took off, running down the hall, not allowing age or misuse of his own legs halt him. He ran with the speed that he had once carried in his youth. Moving through the blood soaked halls, finding only blood everywhere. The constant cries of his dear Arwen on his ear, but he never drew closer to her, never grew near to his precious daughter.

'She is dying… she cries helplessly… why were you not there to protect her…?'

Elrond ignored the thoughts of doubts that crawled within his mind, he couldn't let it get in his way, he needed to find her. He found himself in the main hall; he found many bodies spewed along the ground and walls. Torn apart, ripped open and their internal parts spewed across the floor. Impaled upon spikes and sword, to walls and even the roof was not decorated by the morbid and horrifying decorations of dismembered bodies.

Elven lords and soldiers, well known to him, even children were not spared from this savage displace of sacrilege. Eyes and tongues were ripped from their orifices, limbs broken and torn off; it was simply a horrifying sight to behold. He stepped through the bodies and viscera that littered the floor, he stepped towards the centre dais. The small platform let light flow down onto it, the moons light corrupted a deep red as it lay over a single body.

He stood over it, his eyes wide, his mouth quivering in horror and his heart firmly crushed by despair. Despite the savage and terrifying display that surrounded him, what lay there was more painful to look upon than anything else.

"Arwen…" Elrond murmured, kneeling down beside his daughter.

Her body lifeless and un-abused as those around her, simply without life and breath, it lay there in the red light. Her eyes widen and filled with fear, a terror of what had killed her. Elrond kneeled down beside her, a quivering hand cupping her face as he silently mourned for her. He could not even bring himself to shed tears, to cry for her passing, to show some sense of emotion for her passing.

'The mark of crimson brands the murderer; your mercy refuted righteous justice, now you pay for that mistake.'

Elrond looked at his daughter, and he found only one oddity on her entire form, a single handprint on her chest. It was a bloody hand, but not human or elf, but a single hand with three digits, to fingers and a thumb, abnormally large.

'He is close, go and exact vengeance, for justice has failed you.'

Elrond knew exactly where he must go, what he must do. He rose up, grasping a sword from the nearby wall and skulking down the halls, blood everywhere. He could almost hear the hollowed cries of those that were dead, and the laughing of the criminal that had caused the slaughter.

'Kill him,'

Yes, he would.

He was known for his hospitality and mercy, but he would not allow this beast to remain here. It had taken form him many people, and one more precious to him than any other. He would not let this pass unavenged. He would die by hid blade.

Elrond stopped before the cell, finding the two guards dead on the ground. Both of them impaled upon their own blades. But inside he found the creature sitting on the ground; his head bowed and appear to be sleeping. Elrond growled as he moved forward, grasping the keys from the dead body of the guard, opening the cage.

He saw the creature raise his head, staring impassively at Elrond as he moved forward. Blade held so firmly in his hand that he could feel blisters forming, but he did not loosen his hold for one moment. Instead he jolted forward and grasped the beast by the neck, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall.

The voices grew louder, the hollowed cries of the dead ringing in his ear as he stared at the impassive creature. Elrond gritted his teeth and raised his blade, drawing it back to stab the creature through its stoic face. All the while the cries from around grew louder, but the nagging voice in his mind overshadowed them.

'Kill him, justice and mercy hinder righteous judgement, the damned cry for vengeance, answer their calls and strike!'

Elrond jolted, ready to strike.

"Father!"

Elrond halted his blade an inch from the creature's eye, who stared not at him but the blade. Slowly the Lord of Rivendell turned, looking to the cell door, and his mind grew confused while his heart lifted.

"What has overcome you?" Arwen asked, looking at her father in shock and apprehension at his act of madness.

Elrond didn't move, he stood there unable to figure out what had just occurred. He was so close to murdering this creature, he had justified its death and he agreed with it. But what was it that he saw, but what was that horrid vision he saw with all his people dead. How had he been overcome with such murderous intent?

He turned back to the creature, finding it staring at his sword with narrowed eyes. Elrond discarded it, letting it stand there as he backed away. He did not know what had overcome him, but he wouldn't let this creature take his obvious unstable state by advantage. Elrond moved for the door, and as he reached the edge of it, he was spoken too.

"Elf…"

Elrond looked at the creature; it raised its head and pointed to his hand. Elrond looked down to see the small cut along it, but it was different now, he could see dark black lines moving along it. As if he had somehow picked up some sort of infection. Elrond scowled, how did that occur?

"Rip a part of the inner fabric from my quiver, place it in water and soak the hand, allow it to enter the blood, and mutter any holy hymns you may know," The creature said.

Elrond glared at him for a moment, wondering if he should listen or not.

'It cannot be trusted, it feasts on the blood of gods, their patrons are not safe from their hunger, they cannot be reasoned with.'

Elrond didn't know exactly where that line of thought came from, but he was an agreement that the creature couldn't be trusted.

"And if you start hearing voices, make sure you don't listen," Zul'kal said, staring at the elf seriously. "You start seeing things, then you better not be anyplace dark."

Elrond looked at him for a moment, before slamming the door shut and moving off. Not wishing to speak with anyone, despite their obvious questions on what just occurred; only stopping briefly to look at his daughter. Too see her unharmed and alive relieved him in more ways than he thought possible, but he did not remain to speak with her, for he needed to return back to his study and discover the cause of this sudden insanity.

He retreated to his study, and sat in his chair, leaning heavily into the wood. He couldn't believe what had transpired, how it could have transpired nagged at his mind. One moment he was in his chambers and thinking over recent developments and then he heard Arwen call for him. But what had caused it, there was all he could remember, nothing else came to mind.

"No… that was not all…" Elrond thought aloud, looking down at his hand, finding the cut along it.

He remembered he cut himself with the arrow, and as soon as he did, he heard Arwen. He looked to the arrow, and immediately he stiffened, he was reaching for it. He furrowed his brow, why was he reaching for it? What possessed him to do that?

He saw his ring flash, its glow a deep blue, a warning glow for him to not move any further. He could feel its powers working, was it actually trying to heal him? This didn't make any sense, if the ring was helping him, what was it that was trying to harm him.

'Don't be afraid, there is nothing to fear within the unknown, only to understand.'

Elrond slowly backed away from the arrow, his own instincts and caution quickly overtaking himself as he realised that whatever that arrow was and whatever he just heard was not his own thoughts. Even the Dark Lord could not influence him, even with this ring around his finger that was bound to the One Ring.

But how was it that this one arrow could do so much, what made it so unique that it could surpass the power of the Dark Lord and drive him into a moment of insanity. He looked to the quiver, emptied, and he wondered if he should do as the beast said.

"It doesn't matter,"

Elrond stiffened again, his eyes darted towards the door. In the shadow he saw someone there. But his surprise appeared when he saw a little human girl standing there, ten years old he would have guessed. She had long auburn hair, pale brown skin with some freckles along her cheeks, and deep red eyes. He could feel a sense of dread fill him, for even staring at that innocent and unassuming child; he knew that she was something much more dangerous.

Nothing could walk these halls; his ring prevented such things from occurring. Vilya protected his realm, keeping it pure and never ravaged by evil forces or the ravages of time, yet how did this being stand before him and do so unhindered. Even the Dark Lord himself would be unable to stand in this city for long with this ring here and yet this child stand and is defiant against my power.

"Fear, it is the blood of life, it is the elixir that we thrive upon and this world is saturated in it." The girl stated, her face impassive as she spoke, but her words sounded with delight as she spoke the chilling statement.

"Who are you?" Elrond demanded, standing and planning to move onto her, but halted, he knew better than to go closer, go into the shadow where she stood. And he remembered the warning given to him, never step into the shadows, never be somewhere that is dark.

She smiled, her eyes widening with delight and joy, but it was not innocent, for the malice within her smile and eyes was impossible not to see. Elrond moved back cautiously, he knew that this creature was not of this realm, it was something more evil, more monstrous.

"We are beyond your earthly concepts, outside you view of understanding," Elrond could see something move in the shadows beside her, alongside her face. Black and grey teethe could be seen, many maws in the darkness that expanded out from her. "Death descends on this world, and as the slaughter begins, and the fear grows, we will satiate ourselves on the blood of those lost. Your wars feed us, be it mortal or gods, we are always there, and will never be removed."

Elrond looked on; she was no longer there, simply gone. As if a simple figment of his imagination, but he was not some human who thought he was hallucinating. He looked down to his ring, it glow still bright. He was not safe, not yet. He reached for the Quiver and a jar of water, he would be busy this night.

Western Lonelands

"Stay low," Aragorn ordered, moving ahead and looking for a place to rest and put their feet down.

Night had fallen, and they were in need of respite, but even then he did not trust the woods to keep them safe. For he could feel the dark aura of the wraith in the air, they were close again. For three days they had run and were still no closer to reaching Rivendell and the medical attention Frodo needed.

"I feel like dung," Annie groaned, staggering forward and falling to a knee, Aragorn could understand her discomfort.

They had been running almost non-stop for three days, stopping only at night for a few moments to rest and recover from the ordeal. She had been unconscious for a full day after the incident on Weathertop, only waking up parched and starving. She had consumed a great deal in that time, explaining that she was drained from her fight.

Even when he tried to offer his healing skills to her and try to replenish her weakened body she did not recover completely. It would seem her powers were drained, her physical form was in fine shape, but her body was too dependent on arcane energies to function without it.

"Three days and you still are feeling ill, you certainly strained yourself." Aragorn said, whispering low, his eyes glancing around at the shadows in the forests.

"I didn't expect that my powers would be so drained, and without any magical energies in the air I am practically at the mercy of my own body right now," Annie replied with a grimace, if she couldn't finds a place where she could absorb some rampant arcane energies she was likely to be in a sort of dehydrated state for a long while.

Also she felt sick; losing consciousness, no matter how long usually left you feeling pretty ill for a while. But the fact that they had been running continuously was only making her condition worsen. It would have been a simple fix had she any mana potions on her, and maybe a rejuvenation potion for the migraine. But she was fresh out, lost them all after her encounter with Hodir in Ulduar.

"If you fight again, can you help?" Aragorn asked, he knew the answer, but wanted to see if it was still possible for her to do something.

"Hell no, I'll probably die, I am still running on fumes here, anymore and I will simple be harming myself." Annie replied, standing back up and snatching the water pouch from Aragorn's waist, draining it all in a few gulps.

But even then she didn't give off a content sigh, but a dizzy grunt, even with the way she was trying to recover she was still feeling sick. It would seem she underestimated her need for magical energies, her time in Dalaran likely aided towards that, even on Azeroth. All that raw energy likely is what was keeping her in a constant state of hysteria, but now, now she was out and having too slow down.

It was no wonder, feeling like this now she only wanted to hit the ground and not get back up until she was better. But the sad part was that she likely wouldn't be doing that either, without any rampant magical energies her body couldn't recover. She needed to find somewhere that her body could take in those energies and revitalize herself.

And the only place that could be would likely be Rivendell, Aragorn had said that the realm was blessed and filled with mystical energies. But there was one problem, and that was, it is still three days away from their current position.

"Put Frodo down, we will rest here for a moment," Aragorn said, looking around the small clearing for anything in the trees.

As Sam placed him down he tried to get his friend to focus, but instead his pale eyes and hitched breath continued to grow more severe.

"Look Frodo, we found Bilbo's Trolls," Sam said, trying to get Frodo to see them, and attempt to make him feel better.

But it was futile; the young Hobbit was not in the state where he could offer a sentence, let alone a coherent verse. His face was pale and his eyes were losing their colour and pupils, slowly he was becoming a corpse.

"He's going cold." Sam cried out, looking towards the Strider for help, but was met by a grim statement than any comfort.

"He is turning into a wraith," Aragorn said, his face impassive and voice level, although there was some worry in his eyes. "He is slowly being drawn into their realm; it will not be long now."

"Damn, like we don't have enough problems," Annie growled, and then she shut her eyes and messaged her temple when a shrill shriek filled the air. "Speaking of that particular devil, what do we do?"

Aragorn moved towards Sam and quickly got him to task, he may have a way to slow the young hobbits demise.

"Sam, have you ever heard of the Athelas plant?"

"The what?" Sam asked, not understanding.

"Kingsfoil," Aragorn replied, sounding more urgent in his words.

"I know it, it's a weed," Sam replied, remembering how his neighbour would feed it to his pigs.

"It had some healing properties that we rangers use; it may help slow down the poison," Aragorn said, moving out into the forest to look for the plant, Sam moving off in another direction to search elsewhere.

Aragorn moved through the forest, his torch discarded, he couldn't risk it being seen while he searched. He scanned the vicinity looking for the plant, hoping that a few leaves were nearby, even a sprout.

He knew that the plant wouldn't do much; even with what healing abilities he possesses it would only be a temporary solution. Without proper healing skills the young hobbit would perish. It was only because of the young hobbits resistance to the dark magic of the blade that allowed him to persevere for so long. But now the power was taking hold and he was fading. Frodo's only hope would be to get to Rivendell, but they would not reach it on foot.

They needed horses, but they had none to speak of, and even worse moving in the open was suicide if you didn't have horses that could outpace the riders. The Wraiths would run them down quickly, without a powerful horse the Nazgul would easily catch them. But none were on hand, and he doubted that these poor hobbits could actually ride one without aid.

He couldn't leave the Hobbits alone either, they would certainly be found without him being here to guide them. If they remained they would be found for certain. So his only option was to try and get there by foot, but it likely would be a futile exercise. He at best thought that Frodo would be dead within a day, and after that he would rise as a Wraith.

He looked down and found what he searched for, the white pedals shining dimly in the moonlight. Kneeling down he pulled out a small dagger to cut the leaves and pedals. He likely needed help, hopefully Gandalf was able to reach Rivendell and send for help, anything would be perfect at this moment.

As his hands touched the leathery leaf something else touched his neck, cold and sharp. He cursed himself for getting side tracked.

"You certainly are letting your guard down, Aragorn," A musical voice spoke behind him, playful and friendly.

Aragorn slowly turned and found a familiar face holding the blade.

A tall and straight elf stood before him, hair like shining gold, a face fair and young that held no fear and was full of joy; eyes bright and keen and above were his brows that sat wisdom. That was how he once described the man many years ago, and it had not changed in the many decades he had called him friend.

"Glorfindel, if I am to be caught off guard by anyone, you doing so will have no impact on my reputation, for few can compare to you," Aragorn replied, rising up and grasping the presented hand with his own. "It is good you are here my friend."

It had been long since they had last met; it raised the Rangers heart to see his old friend had come to his aid. He could ask for no better friend to be here to help him in this endeavour.

"I heard from Gandalf that the Nazgul roam these lands, and that you do as well, what has happened?" Glorfindel asked, his kind face showing some form of seriousness and concern.

Aragorn reached down and pulled the plant from the ground, turned and made his way back towards the clearing. Glorfindel followed, stepping in tune to Aragorn; all the while the ranger picked the leaves and pedals from the plant. He slowly blew into them, adding his own brand of magic to the already powerful healing reagent.

They moved into the clearing and they found the Hobbits and Gnome waiting for them, all turned to Aragorn and his newest companion. Aragorn made a beeline for Frodo, kneeling beside him and chewing on the Athelas leaves and preparing it to be used on his wound.

"He has been wounded by a Morgul blade," Glorfindel said, noticing the pale skin and hollow eyes, clear signs of the affliction. "We do not have much time; I will need to get him to Rivendell immediately."

Glorfindel raised his hand and ran it over the wound, speaking in his native tongue. Frodo hissed slightly, as if choking, before his eyes began to dart around and his breathing began to return to him. He glanced at the two and seemed to notice them, but his affliction did not disperse, only aid in slowing its advance.

His healing skills were greater than Aragorn, but he could not compare to that of Elrond Half-elven, only he could cure the poison of a Morgul Blade. But there was not much time, the poison had already travelled far and the piece of the blade had likely reach his heart and was spreading.

He turned to the Hobbits, finding them a short distance away and watching in awe. But then he noticed a woman nearby, strange robes and seemingly in bad condition.

"Here, drink this," Glorfindel said, offering them a water skin for them to drink from.

The Hobbits took the elixir and took a swing of it, greedily drinking the contents. It tasted like spring water, yet when they consumed it they felt their limbs grow strong again and their previous exhaustion disappear.

"Here take this," Merry said, offering it to Annie, who looked at it skeptical.

"I doubt that will help me," Annie groaned, turning away and going back to her thoughts.

"The Elixir is known as Miruvor, it will reinvigorate your body and bring you back to your full strength." Glorfindel said, encouraging the young woman to take the drink.

"Listen I am suffering from severe mana fatigue and also a massive headache, if you got anything magical on you I would love it," Annie said, messaging her head, she needed something, anything to consume in order to at least take the edge off her withdrawal. She wondered if this is what the Blood Elves feel like if they don't consume arcane magic regularly. No wonder they are so adamant about getting their fix.

"The cordial is a brew of the elves, it will help you, it will remove any fatigue you may be suffering, it is made to do so." Glorfindel said, his brow furrowing in thought of her use of words, she referred to magical items, could she be a sorceress.

Annie took the drink and had a sip, but as soon as she tasted it she felt something. Subtle and hidden inside the liquid, a very subtle amount of magical energy resided within the drink. Not much but just enough to take the edge off her sickness, and if that happened, she would be in top form again.

She grabbed it and took a full swing, drowning it in a few gulps before dropping the skin and standing there. Glorfindel looked on a little surprised by the action, drinking it so quickly wasn't usually what was done, especially that much.

"I wouldn't have minded a sip," He heard Aragorn mutter as he stood next to him.

"Annie, are you…" Merry asked, but halted when she raised her hand and called her staff to her, it flew to her palm and she grasped it tightly, the energies around the dragon figurehead pulsing with renewed vigour and power.

Glorfindel raised a brow, he suspected as much from her previous statement, and he also guessed that the reason she skulled the drink was because of the unique properties within it. Magically brewed the drink could restore the strength of a person, and she likely fed on those energies rather than the drink itself.

"Now that I am back in business," Annie said, her voice low and foreboding, arcane energies leaking off her body. "I am going to find those Wraiths, and burn their undead nuts over a hot fire!"

Aragorn looked at her for a moment, before he turned and motioned for Glorfindel to follow, he had grown accustomed to Annie's way of thinking and speaking. It wasn't anything new.

"She seems quite strange," Glorfindel said.

"She's much worse than you might think," Aragorn replied, it coming out in a drawl as he thought about it. "But regardless your aid here is needed; can you get Frodo to Rivendell?"

"Yes, I can bear him to the river Bruinen, once there he would be safe within our borders, and if the Wraiths do follow, I will be there to face them." Glorfindel replied, serious, Aragorn knew he did not boast his own skill. For Glorfindel knew his capabilities and his strengths, and he was the only one who could face these riders alone and beat them, maybe even drive them away in fear.

"I wish you luck, go now, and get Frodo to Elrond, only his healing can fix his ailment." Aragorn said, helping Glorfindel lift the young hobbit into the saddle of Asfaloth, his white stead.

"I await you all in Rivendell," Glorfindel replied, snapping the reins and calling for his horse to ride quickly.

As the stead and its two riders disappeared into the forest Sam ran forward, shocked at the sudden departure.

"What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!" Sam cried, Aragorn did not reply, instead he looked ahead, and hoped that they will reach Rivendell in time.

Rivendell

Elrond sat in his chair for a long while, he had not left it since that girl had appeared, and its appearance had shaken him. Whatever it was, it could not be described with words, it was simply something hideous and monstrous that to even look upon it caused the mind to ache and be driven mad.

"Attolma I menelessie, nai airitainiéva esselya." Elrond muttered, his hand in wash bowl, he was speaking a small prayer to the Valar.

At first he did not know if he should do this; too do as that beast had said. But what he saw only hours ago made him realise that the creature knew exactly what he was facing, and he knew how to protect himself from it.

"Nai ardalya tuluva. Nai írelya tyarniéva mardesse ve menelesse."

But now Elrond was staring out into the clear morning sky and wondering if the coming night will be followed by more terrors.

"Anta men síre ilyaurea mastalma. Ar avanta men raikalmar ve avantalme raikatyarolmain."

Looking to his hand, the cut had healed partially, but he was more elated to see that the infection had disappeared and was no longer there. But he didn't wish for this cleansing ending with him prematurely thinking he was safe. He kept his hand in the water, for nearly four hours now, muttering different prayers and verses of power of healing. As well as his own methods to keep himself protected, he would trust that beings means of healing as well as an orcs.

But as much as he didn't trust it, it did prove right in giving him the quiver. He could feel that it was lined with a powerful magical force, pure and gentle. Whatever powers it used it was similar to that of the Valar, but also different. And for the first time in the last few weeks he felt his heart lighten and his mind clear, it was obvious that the waters and the cloth were responsible.

He did not know what it was, if it was some form of alchemic concoction or even this strange magical energy he felt within the fabric. But he knew that it fought off the corruption and evil that entered his blood when he cut himself.

"Ar nai útukuvalye me mailenna. Ná fainu me ulkallo." Elrond finished his prayer.

For a few more minutes he remained there, allowing the waters to cleanse him as they should. He let out a breath, it was a long night of healing, but he felt all the more refreshed than a night of sleep. He felt like he once was before all this darkness and gloom had descended upon his mind, when word of the ring had reached him and the return of Sauron.

He hoped to keep this frame of mind for a time, but knew that it was fleeting, so he chose to maintain it as long as he was able. But it was when he heard horses at the entrance of the gate that he knew someone had returned, and likely that time was up. A small sardonic smile appeared on his face, so quick to take rest and in the end never able to receive any.

Quickly he rose from his seat and dried his wet hand, giving an annoyed stare at his wrinkled fingertips. Ignoring the appearance of his hand he moved for the door, and made for the main entrance. He had someone to greet.

Four different people came to mind on who had arrived, the first were his sons who should be returning any day now. The second was Glorfindel, who should be returning swiftly after he finds the Ring-bearer. But as he caught sight form an open archway he saw it was the final person to arrive, the Grey Wizard.

Moving down the steps he greeted his old friend warmly and with open arms, welcoming his old friend into his home.

"Gandalf," Elrond greeted, moving forward with purpose to find the ancient wizard to be more dishevelled than norm and also not unscathed. He knew for certain that the Nazgul were responsible, he had been given word from his scouts that when Gandalf had arrived three Nazgul had pursued him.

"Master Elrond, it is good to see you, but this is not a time to be contented on temporary reprieve, we must move to find the Ring-bearer." Gandalf greeted, quickly moving to the matter, one that he was desperate to see fixed.

"I have sent my best to find him, I trust him to bring back your hobbit safely," Elrond replied. "We have much to discuss, there is much happening that I feel may change the war that is to come."

"I suspect you have met someone unique, as I have, there are strange powers at work in the world now, powers that I do not know are here for good or ill," Gandalf said, he remembered his escape from the Orthorc and also his meeting in Rohan.

Those two women he met were not as he expected them to be, the first had a dark and dangerous power. While the woman in Erodas seemed to be quite the opposite, she was pure and kind, despite her obviously brash attitude.

As both the elven lord and wizard began to move for the comforts of the interior they were halted. They both turned to see horses approaching, moving quickly into the entrance and between them both was a large white wolf that sat itself down when the two elven warriors halted.

Elrond gazed at his sons as they came into the entryway, dismounting and moving forward to greet their father. He met them halfway and they embraced one another as any father and sons would.

"Father," Elladan said, releasing himself from his fathers arms.

"Elladan, Elrohir, you are both safe, good." Elrond said, glad they had returned from their mission. "Your mission, did you find the star, did you find what was within?"

Elladan and Elrohir shared a glance before they turned towards the wolf, but they were not the only ones.

Gandalf had stepped forward and was looking at the large canine with scrutinising eyes, looking for something much deeper in the animal's eyes. He could see a keen intelligence in them, a form of sentience that a normal beast would not have. He had seen this once before, over sixty years ago, in the great Beornings, the Shape-changers.

"I can see through that form, you are no wolf," Gandalf said, looking at the wolf with hard eyes.

The wolf gave a small smirk, or what would have passed for one, and stood on its hind legs. Moving forward it began to shift and change, its body expanding and growing larger. Soon its white fur began to turn grey and dark, and horns began to protrude from its brow. Paws became large hands and cloven hooves.

Elrond watched, along with all others present as the being changed and shifted into a new being. The elven lord's face remained impassive as he watched the being alter itself into a nine and a half foot tall bipedal bull that was covered in maroon armor.

Elrohir stepped forward, staring at his father as he introduced the being to him.

"Father, this is Mairne Ragetotem, he is the one who fell from the sky and landed within the Northdown's." Elrohir said, and in response the large Shaman gave a bow of his head before he spoke.

"I have heard of you Elrond of Rivendell, your hospitality and wisdom is known well amongst the people of the North." Mairne said, his gravelly voice removing any doubts that the being was not an unintelligent brute. "But I am here on one of many matters, I ask first that you take me to your prisoner, I would wish to see my second in command freed from chains."

Well, there you have it, I hope you liked this, it will be a while before another comes along, when it does I am sure you will celebrate that day.

To you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.