Hello again, lovelies! My goodness it's been so long since I last posted a chapter! I've been on vacation and have had a lot on my plate, but that doesn't mean that I don't have time to update!

As always, enjoy, and I'd love to get some reviews! It makes my day whenever I read a sweet message. Hope you've all been having a good summer!

Xoxo

-PC


Red light. The color of blood. It floods through Orthanic's windows in great rays, rippling along the polished marble floors. The chains that bind him grate in protest as he struggles to stand, only to have their brutish weight pull him down once more. Chery foam dribbles from his lips. He is running out of time. Saruman's voice echoes down from the high chamber. The wizard's dark aura weighs on his mind with increasing force, but he will not break. He cannot break. He must be strong. Not for himself, but for her.

"Theoden will not stay at Edoras." The strained voice of Grima, an exile of the Rohan, carries through the walls. "It's vulnerable. He knows this. He will expect an attack on the city." There is a tense pause. "They will flee to Helm's Deep, the great fortress of Rohan. It is a dangerous road to take through the mountains. They will be slow."

Wretched worm, he thinks with a growl. Heed my words, Keira. Do not go there.

"I am well aware of their plans," Saruman replies. Footsteps clap against marble, and the glowering redness of the room is snuffed out by the shadow of the entry door as it swings open. A snarl itches at his throat as the wizard stands before him, hands clutched onto his staff. Grima follows after him.

"Behold," the wizard says. "The key to our victory."

The pale man's face contorts in fear. "What creature is this? The likes of it have not been seen for a hundred years."

"It is one of the Breyta, a beastly race all but forgotten. Do not be deceived by its weakened appearance. It would sooner rip your throat out than cower in submission." Saruman raises a hand out towards him, and he bares his fangs. "The Uruk-hai took it captive by the Anduin, as I had ordered. Soon, it will be ready."

"Ready for what, my lord?"

The wizard smiles a wicked smile. "War."

Rage ignites within him, and with a tremendous roar he lunges. The chains stop him but a hairbreadth short from Saruman's outstretched hand.

"You have no power over me," he seethes. "I will not be your slave."

"Then what are you now?" Saruman inquires calmly. "Are you allowing yourself to be held here? Surely not, or by now you would have been reunited with the witch."

"She is no witch."

Grima takes a tentative step forward. "Who do you speak of?"

"The Were-rider," says Saruman. "The wench who controls this creature's kin. She has plans of overthrowing our Lord.."

"And she will succeed," he hisses. "You will regret your words, wizard. I will see to it that your death is filled with misery."

"Enough with you!" The white wizard raises his staff, and a massive burst of magic sends him flying backwards. His body contacts the wall with an agonizing thud, and he gives a scream of pain and anger as the chains dig into his flesh. Out of the corner of his eye he watches as Saruman smirks down at him, eyes bright with malice.

"Nothing can save her now."


"It's true, you don't see many dwarf women. In fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that they're often mistaken for dwarf men."

Gimli's voice is a good deal louder than the muffled conversations carried out amongst the townspeople. He has been talking without end for the past half-hour, ever since Eowyn offered to lead his horse for him. I cannot help but smile as she looks back at me and Aragorn, who ride behind her.

"It's the beards," the Ranger says, gesturing to his own chin. Eowyn grins and turns back to Gimli.

"This, in turn, has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women… and that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Eowyn gives a shrill laugh. "Which is, of course, ridiculous…" Gimli throws his arms up in emphases. Spooked, his steed lunges forward suddenly, throwing Gimli in the process. I snort aloud, but am quick to slap a hand over my mouth as Eowyn scurries over to aid him.

"It's all right. Nobody panic," he says. "That was deliberate. It was deliberate."

I chuckle. "Sure it was, Gimli. Sure it was."

Theoden, who rides beside Aragorn, grins widely. Eowyn looks back at the both of them, golden locks tossing in the wind. Her eyes glitter with laughter.

"I haven't seen my niece smile in a long time," Theoden says. "She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by Orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief."

I gaze down at the woman, eyes pinched in sorrow despite the smile on my face. Eowyn's past is not all that different from my own, it seems. But thankfully for her, she still had a roof over her head after her father's death. Still had family members to grieve with her.

What I would've given to have been as lucky.

Theoden continues his conversation with Aragorn, but his words have brought back dark memories that I cannot afford to dwell on. To remain here any longer would bring me nothing but sorrow and bitterness.

Spurring Donovan forward, I set my sights towards the head of the group. I need a moment away from the crowds. To be alone with my thoughts. A sharp grackle sounds in my ears as the raven swoops overhead. He tilts his head at me, eyes wide and questioning.

Don't worry. I'm just going to catch a breath.

The raven hears me. I know he does. But my words have little effect on him, for as soon as I burst free of the long line of people, the creature swoops down to alight my shoulder.

"What are you planning on doing?" he inquires sternly. The deepness of his voice should startle me, but being I know the animal's true identity, it is hardly surprising. I tug at Donovan's reins, pacing him down to a slow trot.

"I need to be alone for a moment," I say.

"Did the king say something to anger you?"

"No."

"Then why do I sense that you are upset?"

I look over at him. "Anca, I appreciate your concern, but I'd rather not speak of it."

The raven seems a bit taken aback. "I did not give you my name. How did you know it was I?"

"Who else would come to me after Carca was taken captive?"

"I assure you, my lady, there were plenty of other volun—"

"He's your half-brother, Anca." I slip my fingers beneath the raven's feet and hold him out before me. "I know you two are not always on the best of terms, but you are his family. I'm sure you're just as worried about him as I am."

Anca shuffles uncomfortably and opens his beak to respond when, suddenly, his body goes rigid. "We have company," he says. As if on cue, the sound of muffled footsteps meets my ears. I look back to see Legolas jogging up beside us. I slow Donovan to a standstill.

"Theoden plans to make camp further down the hill," the elf says. Upon catching sight of my feathered companion, his gaze hardens. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course!" I say, faking a smile. "Anca and I were just catching up on some things."

Legolas squints at me. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying!"

"Well you certainly aren't telling me the truth!"

Anca cackles softly. "He knows you well."

"Hush," I snap, flicking my wrist. Anca flutters off me, eyes shining with amusement. "Legolas, please don't worry yourself. I am quite fine."

"There is a difference between worry and concern. I know perfectly well that you can fend for yourself, but as your friend I am tasked with looking after you."

"And why is that?"

The corner of his lip curls ever so slightly. "No one likes to be alone, Keira. Least of all you."

"Since when?"

Legolas blinks softly. "Perhaps that is something you should ask yourself."

"Legolas," I say. "There isn't anyone else in this wide world that is quite like you."

"I doubt that," he says. "Many of my kin share the same thoughts and views as I do. In fact, I am almost certain that—"

"Legolas." My voices stops the elf mid-sentence. I gaze over at him, grinning despite my worry. "Is it so difficult for you to take a compliment?"

The Prince observes me for a moment before smirking. "Perhaps."

And then Legolas is gone, disappearing into the throng of villagers until all that's left in his wake are dust and memories.


"Easy, Donovan!"

My grey horse lets out a panicked scream as I try desperately to calm him. His dark eyes are gripped with fear as they gaze pleadingly into my own. I stand at his side, clutching the reins in one hand and stroking his neck with the other. The animal's nostrils flare out as he shuffles in place.

"What is it, my friend?" I whisper, pressing my forehead against his neck. "What troubles you?"

Donovan nickers uneasily. Frowning, I stroke the tangles out of his mane and watch as the last bleeding drop of sunlight disappears beneath the horizon. Night is now upon us. While the rest of the townsfolk rest atop the far hillside, I have had no other choice but to remain with my skittish horse. In his befuddling state, Donovan might pose a threat to any of those he comes across. One kick from his massive hooves could break bones, and I cannot bring myself to take that risk.

"Hush now." I slowly angle my body until I am standing in front of him. "Calm yourself."

The horse seems to relax a bit. The tension in his neck dissipates beneath my fingers, and his breathing slows. My lips stretch into a smile. "Good lad," I say, running my thumb across his cheek.

"How do you do that?"

This time, I don't have to turn around to know who spoke to me. The voice can belong to no other than Eowyn.

"Do what?" I ask without turning. Donovan looks towards the direction of her voice, ears perked.

"Calm him in such a manner?" The sound of crunching footsteps signifies the woman's approach. Her white dress billows around her as she strides up beside me. Pale fingers stretch out and brush against the stallion's nose.

I glance over at her. "The blood of Elvenkind runs in my veins. Because of that, Donovan and I share an undeniable understanding of one another. We are of a single mind. If I command him, he will obey."

Eowyn remains silent for several moments. "So you are of the half-elven."

"Yes."

"I grew up hearing stories of your kin," she says. "My father used to tell me grand tales of their bravery and courage before he…" All at once, the light in her eyes dims to embers, and her smiles disappears beneath a look of grief.

I gaze over at her in sympathy. Ten years of my life I wore the expression shown now on her fair face. I bore it like a battle scar, for I could not be rid of it. I would not be rid of it. How could I, when so much had gone wrong? Sorrow does dark things when left unchecked. That I know better than anyone.

"You are not alone in your grief," I whisper. My throat clenches upon seeing the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "I suffered the same pain you feel now. Ten long years I spent roaming the wildlands, reluctant to open up to anyone for fear of having them ripped away as my father was." Slowly, I reach out to place a hand on her shoulder. "You are brave, Eowyn. So very brave. I only wish that I could have born the burden of death so well as you."

Keira.

Anca's voice echoes inside my mind. I startle slightly, averting my gaze to watch as a feathered shape glides down from the heavens.

"What is it now?" I demand.

"My lady?" inquires Eowyn. "Is something the matter?"

The raven flutters onto my shoulder. His sharp claws dig through the thin material of my tunic, and I winch audibly. Dark things lurk about in the shadows, he says. "I have called for a gathering at the high peaks not far from here. Once we have gotten far enough from the group, I will take you there. It is too dangerous to venture on foot. You could be wounded.

Glancing at Eowyn, I reach up and stroke Anca's feathers. "Not at all," I say. "This wayward messenger bird has been following me for some time. I dare say I've taken to liking his company."

Messenger bird? Forgive me, my liege, but could you possibly select other title?

Just go with it, Anca.

"How odd," says Eowyn, observing the two of us.

"Quite." I shoot Anca a knowing look and feign a smile. "Now forgive me, my lady, but I fear that I must have I word with my little friend here. We have a connection, you see, much similar to mine and Donovan's. He seems to want something of me."

"Of course." Eowyn turns and makes her way back up the hillside. Once she is out of earshot, Anca severs our mental connection in order to speak aloud.

"My kin are worried for the wellbeing of one of their own, Were-rider."

All at once, my pleasant mood vanishes. "Carca." Anca nods. "But what of Skyldr's message?" I ask. "Would you be so bold as to forsake his will?"

"Skyldr's will means nothing if you give the order."

"But I… Anca, my place is here. Carca himself forbad me from going after him."

"Leave that much to the rest of us," he says. "Were-rider, you must see that he is running out of time. I have no doubt of his strength, but not even the strongest of Breyta can endure torture of the mind for very long." His eyes bore into my own as he continues. "Your path leads elsewhere, but ours does not. I agree that Carca would not want you to endanger your life in a rescue mission. Therefore we will attempt one in your place."

"But the risks!" I cry. "Saruman's hold is too strong. He would kill you before you step foot in that tower."

"Not if our warriors can help it," Anca says. "Have faith in us, Keira. Now we must make haste. I would like to be rid of this dreadful form at the earliest convenience."

Sighing, turn back to face Donovan. "Stay here," I tell him. "And do not move until I return."

The horse dips his head, acknowledging my words. I nod to him before pivoting on heel and heading East. A menacing ridge of rock lines the near horizon, and I can just barely make out several dark forms circling up above them. Five, to be exact. Anca would only have summoned our most hardened and experienced warriors. Back when Celeb was still alive, she headed the group. After all, she was the Eldest, as well as the strongest, both mentally and physically. None would dare oppose her leadership. Now that title has been passed to another. Skyldr, a massive white Breyta whose skills in battle are seconded only to Carca. He is an imposing figure, standing taller than both Carca and Anca, and with only one functional eye. The other has become so clouded and fogged that it no longer resembles an eye at all, but rather a white orb. No doubt Anca has kept him in the dark about this mission.

I hope you know what you're doing, Anca.


A long half-hour passes by before we are far enough away from the others to allow Anca to revert back into his Breytian form. By now, the crackling campfires that once blazed as bright as the sun are now distant slivers of orange. The air around us is silent, save for the lonesome cries of a coyote somewhere far out in the distance.

"We're in the clear," I call up to Anca. "You are free to shift whenever you please." Wind whistles over the raven's wings as he swoops down from the heavens, landing several feet in front of me. His bright eyes gleam with anticipation as he extends his wings. A golden glow emanates from his breast as thick tendrils of magic seep out from his feathers, enveloping his body in a glittering cocoon. Captivated, I watch as the raven's dark form begins to swell, becoming larger and larger until it stretches nearly a head taller than me. His ebony beak disapates into a cloud of shimmering mist as a canine snout sprouts in its place. Angular ears emerge from the feathers overlaying his head before those, too, disappear, revealing amber fur tucked away beneath them. Massive forelegs bud from Anca's chest as his hind limbs thicken into muscular stumps. His hind feathers shrink away, and a wolf's tail grows in their place.

Lastly, the raven's wings elongate until I am fully engulfed in their consuming shadow. Anca rears up, flexing his mighty limbs, just as the last of his golden fur spreads back into place. The raven is gone. In its place lies a creature far more powerful than a simple bird could ever hope to be.

"At last," Anca sighs, falling back onto all fours. "I can be rid of that ghastly disguise."

Grinning, I reach out to stroke his neck. "You've grown, my friend."

"So I've been told."

Anca has grown so much, in fact, that he is forced to lower himself in order for me to mount him. I grab fistfuls of his thick neck fur, praying that is enough to keep me seated atop him during our flight.

The Breyta chuckles at my obvious worry. "Hold fast, my leige, and I will ensure that you do not fall."

"That's not very reassuring."

"Either way, I'm afraid it will have to do." Anca heaves a mighty roar before leaping into a sprint. Frosty winds tear at my eyes as he gathers speed across the plains. His wings pump alongside him, gaining us momentum with every earth-shattering pulse. Then, with one last powerful thrust, we're airborne. Anca streaks into the night sky like a fiery comet, sending us high up into the clouds before plunging back down to earth. When at last he levels out, my voice is hoarse from shrieking.

"Valar forbid, Anca, are you trying to get me killed?"

"Wererider, you amuse me," he says. "For all the stories I've heard of your ferocity in battle, you sound as terror-stricken as a pup taking its first flight."

"Do not be so quick to judge, Anca. I can still incinerate you."

Grating laughter fills the air as he banks towards the high peaks. The various Breyta have become aware of our approach. The silence of the night is broken by a chorus of howls as the group acknowledges my presence. A great length of time has passed since last I spoke with the Warriors' Council. I can only pray that they are able to see reason through their lust for revenge.

Anca circles over the nearest peak before touching down on a large outcropping that overlooks the Rohavian plains. Smoothing my hair back from my face, I slide down from Anca's back and await the others. Hardly a moment has passed before the first warrior alights before me. Though the sparse lighting might make it difficult to see the Breyta's face in detail, it is impossible to mistake the fire-red coat of Valdra as she paces towards me. Unlike the others of her kin, Valdra has chosen not to bear a rider. After both her parents were killed by the Lypta, she chose not to bind herself to any one person, be it an elf or a human. Her heart could not cope with another loss.

"Greetings, Wererider," she purrs, bowing deeply.

"It has been far too long, Valdra," I say. The Breyta blinks slowly at me, her deep green eyes alive with morbid curiosity.

Next to arrive are Thalin and Thalias, the dark-coated Breyta twins, along with their riders, Gondien and Thorontur. Both are elves hailing from the woods of Lothlorien. I greet them all, only to be met with the arrival of another Breyta. Gwador glides down from the starlit sky, allowing the moonlight to glint off of his silvery hide as he lands beside the others. His rider, Averil, dismounts him with a grunt.

"My lady," she says, clasping an arm over her chest. "We are well met, even in such dark times as these."

"I am pleased to see you are well, Wererider," rumbles Gwador. Black markings travel alongside the bridge of his nose and up around his violet eyes, giving him a menacing appearance.

"And I, you," I reply. Scanning the group briefly, I come to realize that we are missing two. Bragol and his bond have yet to show.

As if reading my mind, one of the twins steps forward. "Bragol is coming. He was… diverted during his approach."

I frown at him. "Diverted? By what means?"

"I haven't a clue. He only said that he would be here at the soonest possible—"

The Breyta is cut off by a roar as loud as a thunderclap. Looking up, I watch as an enormous shadow swoops down onto the outcropping. Gwador and Thalian scramble to the side to avoid being crushed beneath the massive form of Bragol as he lands heavily upon the rock. One of his wings slaps against Valdra's shoulder, moving her to snarl at him. Bragol hardly acknowledges her warning as he folds in the great structures, revealing the form of his rider sitting top him. I wrinkle my nose.

"Ancelin," I say dryly, "I am pleased that you could arrive so quickly. I trust you had a safe flight?"

"Indeed," he says. Ancelin slides down from his mount and removes his riding helmet, revealing an angular face and striking green eyes. There's something about the man that has always unsettled me. Even Anca seems to regard him more coolly than the rest of the warriors.

Pushing my wariness of him aside, I speak out to address the gathering. "Good warriors, I presume that you all have been made aware Carca's capture." Nods and murmurs ripple throughout the gathering. A ball of ice grows in my stomach, and I struggle to keep my composure. "Losing him has never been an option to me, but now that he's gone, I have been made sure of the fact that none are safe whilst Saruman's forces roam these lands. In less than a week's time, the people of Edoras will have arrived at the fortress of Helm's Deep. There, Theoden King believes they will be protected from the wizard's hand of destruction. I know better than this. During his capture, Carca managed to warn me of Saruman's intentions of storming Helm's Deep in several days' time." I pause briefly. "The broken remnants of the Fellowship will be joining the king's men in the upcoming battle against the Uruk-hai. I cannot leave them to fight this war without my aid.

"During the brief connection we shared, Carca also informed me that he is being kept in the tower stronghold of Orthanic, the location in which Saruman's army will shortly be departing. There, the wizard struggles to break his mind and mold it to his own will. I am certain that we all know he will not succeed. Carca…" My voice catches, and I am once against forced to pause. "Carca would sooner die than have himself be turned against the ones he loves. His life-force is weakening as we speak." Glancing towards Anca, I let out a sigh. "But I cannot be in two places at once, which is why Anca has called you here. He knows of my plans to aid the army at Helm's Deep. He also knows that during that time, I will be unable to aid Carca in any way. Our Headmaster, Skyldr, has deemed rescuing him as an impossible task because of this. Anca has told me otherwise."

"Carca's need is dire," says Anca, stepping forward. "Skyldr thinks that he can resist, that he can miraculously escape and rejoin us after the battle. We know better than to believe such speculations. My brother's strength can only last so long. I know I speak for all of us when I say that Carca is not only a vital warrior, but also a friend. We cannot afford to lose him. Not with war looming on the horizon."

"You would have us attempt a rescue without our leader?" barks Valdra.

"Keira is our main asset, make no mistake, but her priorities are not just with us. She has hundreds of men relying on her to fight with them. If she were to abandon them now, there's no telling what would happen."

"Does your bond no longer come above all else, Wererider?" Gondien inquires. "Would you abandon him to aid a cause hardly worthy of your assistance?"

Anca bristles at Gondien's words, and blood rushes to my cheeks. "You will watch your tongue," I hiss. "Carca means everything to me. He is the reason I am still living. Without him, I would be stuck wandering the wilderlands. But for me to join you would mean death for us all. It's not Carca that Saruman wants. It's me. And if he were to succeed in my capture…" I grit my teeth. "He would kill my bond at the first opportunity."

My words are met with a stiff silence broken only by Anca. "Keira expressed great concern at the thought of sending us to Carca's aid, but even she cannot deny that it must be done. Compared to Carca, the rest of us are simply pawns. His life is worth more to this war and to her than any of ours. We cannot lose him. The sooner we all accept that, the better. What say you in return?"

Thalin paces forward. "I do not deny that Carca needs our help, but how could such a feet even be attempted? Skyldr is right. Othanic is heavily guarded. It would be nine of us against thousands of them!"

"The trek from Orthanic to Helm's Deep will not be an easy one, or a short one," I say. "The Uruks will have to depart soon. Wait until the army has left to plan your means of attack. Saruman will not think to expect a seige on the tower; he will presume that I've ordered you all to Helm's Deep."

"And if our plan fails?" demands Thorontur.

I swallow hard. "Then you will have died doing what is right."

"What of Saruman?" hisses Valdra. "May we see to it that his life ends at the tip of our fangs?"

"Not unless you are provoked," I say. "The wizard is corrupt, albeit, but he is also incredibly powerful. The likes of him should not be trifled with, as I will not be among you to counteract his spells. You are to leave him be unless there is no other choice."

Another silence, long and thick, fills the air. Then, after a tense moment, Valdra speaks again. "I will not leave my kinsman to be tortured by that magic-wielding abomination. Be it your will, Wererider, I will abide." I blink gratefully at her.

"I, too, would be honored with this deed." Gwador comes to stand beside the red Breyta.

"And I."

"And I."

"And we, as well."

Thorontur, Gondien, and the twins all come to join them. Anca follows suit.

And then there were two.

Ancelin and Bragol remain fixed to their original positions. Both regard me with cold, calculated gazes.

"You are our leader, Wererider," Ancelin says mildly. "It seems that we are at an odds. If you wish to see half your warriors obliterated for the sake of one, then it is not my place to argue."

Anger stirs in my veins at Ancelin's sinister words. "If you feel so comfortable as to address me in such a way, than by all means, give your opinion. Why would you not wish to rescue your own commander?" I lace the final word with all the poison and malice that I can muster. Ancelin sneers ever so slightly, and a low growl rumbles in Bragol's throat.

"If I recall correctly, Skyldr is our Headmaster, not Carca. I think this raid will be futile. At a time such as this, our forces should be training in the art of warfare, not preforming rescue missions. Carca has survived on his own for many years. He has been through torment just like the rest of us. What makes you think that Sklydr is so wrong? What makes you think that he cannot escape on his own?"

"You truly ask that of me?"

Ancelin juts out his chin. "I say that we let Carca take care of himself. If he's as strong as you all seem to think he is, I don't see why we should risk our lives for a cause that will likely be pointless."

His words are met with an uproar. Both Breyta and riders alike exchange cries of outrage, all of which are silenced when I raise my hand. My heartbeat pounds in my fingertips as I stride towards Ancelin, each step becoming more and more forceful.

"You would let him die?" I whisper. "You would let your leader's bond die while you stand by and watch?" An inhuman strength floods my limbs, and in one fluid motion I have gripped hold of the collar of his tunic and heaved him up into the air. Ancelin cries out in surprise as I tighten my grip, allowing my jagged nails to cut into his neck. My eyes seer as a burning red light glows from my irises. Bragol steps forward, as if to intervene, but one scathing glance from Anca is enough to stop him in his tracks.

A hush falls over the group as I glower at the man, willing all my anger to seep into my voice as I continue: "I hold the power to kill you in any way that I please. You have proven that you value your own worthless hide more than a Breyta whose life is worth a hundred of yours. And now, I will give you a choice." Raising up my free hand, I summon a ball of golden fire. "Swear by your life that you will do all in your power to help free Carca, or be banished for our order forever."

The man's face grows deathly pale as an audible gasp ripples amongst the Breyta. Anca simply smirks. "But… You can't… You can't do that," stammers Ancelin. "You wouldn't!"

"If you do not think me capable of this, then you do not know me at all." I stare deeply into his eyes. "Give me your answer, or I shall decide it for you."

Ancelin gasps quietly, his gaze flickering towards Bragol. The Breyta watches him in silence before glancing towards me. Then, casting one last look at his bond, the great beast bows his head in submission. Tears well in Ancelin's eyes as he realizes the gravity of his actions.

"Forgive me…" he whispers, "I have been blind, Wererider. I will… help Carca, as you have commanded. Please forgive me." A single tear drips from his lashes before rolling down onto my hand. Despite the anger coursing through me, my heart pangs for him. Though his sharp tongue may make him seem older, Ancelin is barley thirty. He is young still, and has much to learn.

Drawing in a deep breath, I lower him until his feet are resting firmly upon the ground. "You are forgiven," I say. A sigh of relief echoes from Bragol as I release him. Ancelin falls facedown before my feet, weeping openly.

"Thank you," he whimpers. "I swear to serve you without question, my lady."

I observe him in silence before saying, "Ancelin." The man looks up at me. Slowly, I allow my anger to fade. "Have faith in yourself. You may yet prevail."

"Wererider."

I glance over, watching as Anca paces to my side. "I would wish to stand by you during the battle of Helm's Deep, yet I fear that you would not have me do so."

"And you are right," I say. "You ordered this mission. Go with them, Anca. They need you."

The golden wolf nods grimly. "We will formulate our strategy at dawn."

I find myself saddened by his dark tone. Anca is no fool. He knows that odds of them rescuing Carca will be slim, yet he is confident enough to lead his kin into battle. "Thank you, Anca," I whisper, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Thank you."

The flight back to the camp is brief. Anca is forced to land a reasonable distance away, as to not be seen by any prying eyes. There's no telling what the men might do if they saw me with him. At the very least my cover would be blown, and I'd have King Theoden to answer to.

Nonetheless, I bid farewell to the golden Breyta and trudge reluctantly back into the company of men. While my body remains here with the Fellowship, my soul is bond with Carca's. Locked away in some terrible cell with nothing but pain and darkness to act as company. Without hope, without a chance of escape. With nothing left to live for but each other.

Take care of yourself, Wererider, Anca whispers in my mind. We shall see you at the finish.

Then, like a fraying rope that has held to much, the connection snaps, and Anca's presence fades away into the dark recesses of time.

Alone, I gaze up at the stars, my thoughts of nothing but Carca. His image flashes before my eyes. He lies upon a cold stone floor, surrounded by pools of his own blood. Deep scars lash across his body, and heavy chains render him unable to move. And his eyes… his bright, beautiful eyes have grown dull from pain and suffering. Carca. Strong, courageous Carca, is completely and utterly helpless.

Oh, my love, what I done?

And as I make the long, lonesome trek back to sanctuary, I weep.


Dawn comes. The air about the land is cold and bitter as I come to, struggling to open my swollen eyes. When at last I succeed, I am met with a strange sight. From my vantage point on the hilltop, I see that the villagers have already begun to move on. Aragorn and Theoden ride up ahead of them, leading the group off at a brisk yet stable pace. Donovan nickers softly, nudging my leg with his hoof. The horse must have come to me sometime during the night.

"Valar forbid, the half-wits left me." Grumbling, I gather my things as quickly as I am able and tie them to Donovan's saddle. I hoist myself up onto him and spur him forward with a nudge of the heel. Donovan sets off at a fast gallop. His hooves pound against the hard turf as he struggles to regain ground. The others may not be travelling fast, but there is considerable distance between us and them that we must make up for.

I am so concentrated on reaching our destination, however, that I don't notice the white shape speeding directly towards us until we're feet from collision.

Donovan lets out a scream and digs his hooves into the ground, trying desperately to slow himself. I wrench back on the reigns, and he rears up out of fright. The approaching creature—a white horse—mirrors his panicked reaction. The two animals come to a grinding halt just inches from each other.

"What in the blazes is wrong with you?" I screech.

The white stallion steps to the side, and I nearly fall of my horse when I see Legolas sitting atop him, eyes wide with shock and confusion. For a long moment we simply stare at each other, neither one of us sure of what to say.

Then he speaks. "I was coming to wake you," he says quickly. "The others are already moving."

"Well I think I'm quite awake now, Legolas!" Cheeks burning with embarrassment, I usher Donovan forward. He sets pace at a fast trot, snorting his displeasure at Arod.

"What on earth is wrong with him?" I mutter, wiping drips of sweat from my brow.

"I meant no ill will, Keira." Legolas's steed canters up beside us. The elf gazes over at me, but I refuse to look him in the eye. Legolas simply shakes his head. "If you're still angered with me like you were last night, then tell me so at once. I will leave you be."

I blink once. "What happened last night?"

Legolas looks at me in disbelief. "You don't remember?"

"No. I'm afraid it's all a blur." My chest heaves in a sigh. "I don't know what I said, but whatever it may have been, just know this. I'm not angered with you, Legolas. I'm just… torn."

He frowns. "In what way?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." I close my eyes briefly before looking over at him. "Go to others, Legolas. I'm afraid I won't make for a very invigorating riding companion."

Much to my surprise, the elf does not leave. He simply watches me, as if searching for a clue to uncover my troubles. "Come with me," he says softly. "Perhaps being with them will help clear your mind."

I open my mouth, as if to protest, but Legolas shoots off before I get the chance. I roll my eyes and ride after him.


Give in, Wererider."

The drake towers up over me, his golden head wreathed in flame. Ruby eyes bore relentlessly into my own. Hollow. Souless. The eyes of a monster. Karr flicks his tongue, splattering my face with droplets of magma. I resist the impulse to scream in pain as the liquid seers into my skin. "Don't you see?" he hisses. "I've already won. Your precious companions are all but eradicated."

"No," I spit back. "No, you're lying."

"See for yourself." Karr steps to the side, revealing the bloody carcasses of hundreds of fallen men and orcs. Among the dead lie the remains of seven larger forms. Breyta warriors, all beaten and broken beyond recognition. Their wings jut out at awkward, impossible angles. One beast still struggles to draw breath, his body shuddering with effort.

Tears well in my eyes as I gaze down at the corpses. "It can't be."

"Oh, but it can," sneers the serpent. "And now, you're all that's standing between me and domination." Karr raises up his right foreleg, revealing a dark from lying motionless between his claws. My heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of ebony fur and midnight wings.

"Carca," I whisper, then louder, "Carca! Wake up, Carca!"

The drake chuckles, smoke curling from his nostrils. "Nothing can save him now." Before I have a chance to scream his name, Karr opens his jaws and releases a plume of white-hot flame that slams directly into the Breyta's limp body. All at once, the fire turns his flesh to ash, leaving nothing but charred bones in its wake. An agonized cry tears from my lungs, and I fall to my knees, clawing at the blood-caked ground beneath me.

"Monster!" I wail. "Murderer!" Something hot arises in my stomach, and my muscles seize in protest as beams of light burst free from the palms of my hands. They rocket up into the heavens, spiraling higher and higher into the ebony clouds, before slamming back down to earth. All at once, I am enveloped in a whirlwind of magic. The tendrils swirl around my body in a crystalline funnel, bleeding down into my very soul. I extend my hands out on either side of me, embracing it with open arms.

Carca's skeleton clatters to the ground as Karr drops to all fours, hissing his rage. But even he cannot prevent what is about to unfold. I am no longer Keira Nightingale, a lowly half-breed turned warrior. I am something much, much more.

Pain bursts from my fingertips as my nails begin to elongate, stretching into long, sharpened daggers. Heavy horns sprout from my forehead as my face stretches into a serpentine snout. My teeth sharpen into massive fangs, and enormous fleshy wings rip free from my shoulder blades. Skin drips from my flesh, replaced instead with ivory scales that glitter with fire. My entire body swells with might as fire erupts from my mouth, followed by an inhuman scream.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"


"No!"

I awaken from my stupor with a sharp jolt, panting fiercely. My skin is coated with a thin film of sweat that glistens beneath the sunlight. I was asleep for only a minute, if even that. Thankfully, I've still managed to stay mounted on Donovan. It would've been very embarrassing indeed if I were to have fallen off during my brief attempt to rest.

"What was that, my lady?" inquires Eowyn, striding up beside me.

Blinking against the harsh light, I force a smile as I look down at her. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

The smaller woman watches me for a moment, pondering over my words, then moves to speak just as the sound of fast hoof treads signals a rider's approach. Frowning, I look round to see Hasufel cantering up beside me, with Aragorn atop him.

"Legolas has gone to scout up ahead," he says. "If it interests you, I'm sure he would be glad to have your company."

"Thank you for informing me, Aragorn," I reply smoothly. "It would be my pleasure to join him."

The Ranger smiles before saying, "He's lucky to have you as a friend, my lady."

My heart lurches at the man's kindness, and I blush. "You're too kind, Aragorn." Turning back towards Eowyn, I am hardly surprised to find her gaze focused on the Ranger. If it were any other man she was admiring, I would be glad for her. But Aragorn is no other man. His affections have already been placed. There is no denying that his love for Elrond's daughter will overcome all obstacles, including flutter-eyed mortal girls. I only wish that Eowyn would come to realize that Aragorn is not the lover she seeks.

Spurring Donovan forward, I guide the horse past the throngs of people and animals before ushering him up onto a nearby hillside. Legolas stands upon the very crest, looking out on the land below.

Donovan's pounding hooves give away our approach, for no sooner have I dismounted than Legolas says, "Decided to join me, have you?" A smirk plays across my lips as I make my way over to him.

"I wouldn't want you to have all the fun," I say, brushing my shoulder against his. "Aragorn told me you were up here. What is on your mind?"

"I simply wanted to look upon what lies ahead of us," he says. "I've had a feeling these past few days. A growing dread, like something terrible is about to unfold."

"Perhaps it is the battle you forsee?"

"Intuition, Keira, not foresight. I do not possess such skills as to look into the future." He sighs deeply, worry glazing over his sapphire eyes. "But no, it is not the battle that I sense. It is a different threat; smaller, but more cunning. I feel as though we're being hunted."

I frown at him. "By what?"

"I do not know." Legolas falls into a momentary silence before looking over at me. "Let not my own troubles become yours. It is merely a feeling; nothing more."

"Don't try to ignore what your inner sense is trying to tell you, Legolas." I reach out and place my hand on his arm. "Without it, I dare say we would never have made it this far."

The Elf smiles. "I'm happy you chose to join me."

"The feeling is mutual," I say. We exchange a long glance, and I find myself speaking again. "I am so sorry for how I behaved, even if I cannot remember all that was said. It's just…" My mouth clamps shut. I can't tell him. He has enough on his plate as it is.

"Just what?" When I do not reply, Legolas steps in front of me, forcing me to look at him. "Keira."

For a moment I remain motionless, refusing to say more. But when I look into his eyes, when I see the beauty and depth and kindness within them, the words come tumbling out. "I've sent them to their doom."

He raises his brows, urging me to say more.

"My warriors. The Breyta," I specify, "They… they wanted to organize a rescue for Carca, despite their Headmaster's heed against it. I agreed to let them do so." Fear prickles at the nape of my neck as I relive the events of the past evening. "I didn't know what to do. Carca is my bond, and my protector. I couldn't leave him to rot in that miserable tower. Skyldr was wrong. I knew he was, and I tried to deny it. Now it has become clear that no one can escape the clutches of the wizard, not even one so powerful as my companion. To do nothing would be to sentence him to death."

Legolas raises his eyebrows. "Do you mean to say that you're leaving us?"

"No!" My reply is louder than I intended. Regret knaws at my insides like a ravenous beast as I think on what my companion must be going through. I sigh heavily. "No, I can't leave. Not with the battle looming over our heads." I pause, envisioning the bright golden eyes of Carca. "He wouldn't want me to abandon those with whom my allegiance lies."

"Nor would he want you risking your life for his." The Elf gazes off into the horizon, and I watch as the sun melts his hair into liquid platinum. "How many of the Breyta volunteered themselves?"

"Five, with four of them bearing riders. I can only hope that it is enough to infiltrate Saruman's hold. My hope is that the wizard is too preoccupied with Carca to take notice of them. Orc guards can be dealt with, but I have instructed them to attack only after their legions have dispatched for Helm's Deep."

"Smart. I doubt that a great many will be left behind." Legolas folds his arms. "But how exactly do they plan to deal with Saruman himself?"

"My hope is that they won't have to. My warriors are clever. They will wait until the wizard is distracted to free Carca. Getting in will be the easy part. It's getting out that will pose the greatest threat."

"How will you know if their mission was successful?"

I smile. "I'll feel him again. My mind is so empty now that I could sense even the weakest of presences. Once he is free of Saruman's grasp, Carca will be able to contact me freely."

"And how long with that take?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

I set my jaw. "How much they've twisted him."

Legolas opens his mouth to reply, but his voice is drowned out by the oncoming clamor of galloping horses. The noise is sudden, unexpected. I step up to the edge of the overlook and watch as two horsemen burst out from the throng of villagers and proceed down the path beneath us. My brow knits in confusion, and I glance over to see Legolas wearing the same expression.

"What are they up to?" I mutter. The horsemen disappear from view, and I narrow my eyes. Suddenly, the sound of hoof tread ceases, and a frightened squeal emanates from somewhere below us. Blood turns to ice in my veins. I whip around, heart pounding as I sense a large presence on the cliffs neighboring us.

"Oh Valar." Stumbling forwards, I reach the far side of the overlook just in time to watch as an enormous Warg bounds down from the rocks and slams into on of the unsuspecting horseman. The force of the blow is enough to throw him from his steed, whose chest has been shredded to ribbons. "Legolas!" I shriek, just as one of the men lets out a bone-chilling cry of, "WARGS!"

In the blink of an eye I unsheathe my daggers and sprint down from the overlook, with Legolas hot on my heels. The Elf strings his bow and loosens an arrow into the Warg's chest. The beast screeches in pain as it collapses, flinging its rider to the ground. The black-eyed Orc struggles to regain its footing, but it is far too late. Screaming my rage, I leap into the air and bear down on the ghastly beast. The bite of my daggers is cold and swift. The Orc is hardly able to scream in protest before I have split its neck open. Hot blood spatters me in the face as I wrench my blades from the carcass.

"A scout!" shouts Legolas. Wiping the gore from my skin, I rush over to where one of the horsemen's limp bodies lies. I don't have to check his pulse to know he's dead. The Warg carved a massive hole in the man's throat, exposing the bloodied flesh within. A ball of ice settles in my stomach as I recognize the battered face to be that of Hama, one of the king's guards.

"You will be avenged," I say, bending down to close his eyes.

"Keira!" Legolas's shout moves me to rise up. The Elf hurries over to where I stand, eyes bright with the frenzy of battle. "Come quickly now, to the top of the hill. We will have a better vantage point from there." I nod to him. The remaining horseman thunders past us, presumably to alert King Theoden of the coming onslaught.

"There are sure to be plenty more of them," I say to Legolas, jogging to his side. The Elf does not respond, but a distinct curl in his lip acts as answer enough.

Legolas and I rush to the hilltop, coming to halt upon a large rock jutting out from its jagged edge. My suspicions are quickly confirmed as dozens of dark shapes begin to pour out from the rolling plains. Howls and shouts mingle together to create an imposing cacophony that drills into my ears.

"My word," I whisper. "We're in for a good fight."

Legolas clenches his bow until his knuckles are white with strain. "We must get closer if I am to get a clear shot." Our gazes meet. "You have not a bow. Go back to the horsemen."

"No," I say fiercely. "I will stand by your side."

The Elf does not argue, but his eyes are filled with conflict as he replies, "So be it."

Together we rush back down the knoll and out onto the open plains. The braying of the wolves of Isenguard draws ever nearer, yet it does not faze me. How could it? I have faced far greater foes during my many excursions with Carca. It would take much more to strike fear in my heart.

After a long few seconds of running, we finally come upon a large grassy mound on which to retaliate fire. Arrow after arrow sails free of Legolas's bow, each finding marks in the flesh of both Wargs and Orcs alike. My hands sizzle with orbs of magic as I recall one of my many lessons with Celeb, in which she taught me how to strike distant targets. Concentrating my focus on my right palm, I extend it out before me and allow the grip of magic to take hold. A massive white spearhead, crackling and sparkling with weakly-contained power, shards out from it before streaking off towards the approaching Wargriders. I manuveer the object towards the nearest beast, setting it on a direct course towards the Warg's chest cavity. Then, with a sharp exhale, I release my grip.

The wolf has next to no time to react as the magical conjuration plunges deep into its ribcage, stopping it in its tracks. But that is not all I have in store for it. The moment the Warg's corpse hits the ground, the magic explodes, sending shards of lightning spearing out into nearby wolves, felling three. Waves of blue energy permeate where the incident occurred, moving other Wargriders to guide their beasts around them.

"What an unpleasant way to die," mutters Legolas. A sporatic strand of magic lashes out at another Warg, separating its head from its shoulders in one clean blow. I resist the impulse to cringe.

Suddenly, the ground beneath us begins to quake with the sound of many tramping hooves. Looking over my shoulder, I watch as a large gathering of horsemen bleeds out onto the plains, with Theoden and Aragorn at their head. Arod and Gimli emerge from the center of the pack, with Donovan galloping beside them. Legolas pivots on heel, grips hold of his horse's chest straps and swings himself up onto the creature's back. With that he rides off in pursuit of the other soldiers.

Showoff, I hiss inwardly, then aloud, "Donovan! Come to me, Donovan!"

My call rings clear despite the thunderous racket stirred up by the horses. Donovan slows as he approaches, just enough so that I am able to mount him without being thrown off.

"To battle, Donovan!" I cry. "Let your pace be swift, and your heart be strong!"

The horse lunges forward, foam frothing at his lips. Gritting my teeth, I wrap the reins around my left hand and unsheathe a dagger with the other. Blood from my previous kill still glistens on the blade's edge. It drizzles from the hilt and snakes its way down my fingers. Hot and thick, a reminder of the horrors of battle.

Theoden's war cry bellows out from up ahead, followed by a series of shrieks and howls from the Wargs and their riders. Then, with the deafening clash of metal and flesh, the battle commences.

Beastly faces blur past me as I slash down upon my opponents, sending clumps of fur and blood spraying into the air. Cries of pain sound from Theoden's riders as many are wrenched from their saddles, then ripped apart by massive fangs. Donovan squeals as a Warg smashes into his side, nearly bowling the two of us over. The hideous wolf snarls and snaps as the horse rears up in his fright. Trying desperately to calm him, I yank back on the reins and lash out with my dagger. The blade slices a wide gash across the Warg's muzzle before finding refuge in its neck. A terrible scream tears out from the beast's mouth as it paws at its injuries. The Orcish rider hisses maliciously, raising up its sword, only to be silenced with an arrow to the throat. Arod and Legolas thunder past us, and Gimli leaps down from the horse's saddle in order to face off with a riderless Warg standing not far from Donovan and myself. The creature hardly seems to acknowledge him as it gorges itself on the corpse of a fallen horseman.

"Bring your pretty face to my axe!" hollers the dwarf. Rolling my eyes, I slap Donovan's reins against his neck. The horse lunges into a gallop, eager to reenter the battle.

We have barely made it twenty feet when a stabbing pain erupts in my thigh.

Crying out, I glance down to see an Orc hanging onto the stirrups of the saddle, its black dagger embedded in my leg. A grin spreads across its bloody lips, and the creature wrenches its blade sideways just as I slash its neck with my longknife. The Orc gurgles its last and tumbles to the ground, but not before carving a terrible wound into Donovan's side. The horse screams as the sharp Orcish blade cuts a jagged line through his flesh, tearing through skin and muscle until it clatters against the bone. A tremor runs the length of his body, and he stumbles.

"Donovan!" I wail. "Keep going, Donovan! Don't give up now!"

I know my efforts are in vain. I know it the moment I look into his eyes. Agony and sorrow swirl in their deep brown depths, and I know he can go no farther. With a groan of agony, Donovan's forelegs collapse beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground. I barely managed to slide from his back before the horse rolls onto his side, wheezing with strain. Tears threaten to blur my vision as I gaze down at my injured horse. Blood seeps out from the stab wound on my thigh, but I hardly feel it. The only thing going through my mind is rage.

Pure, blind rage.

Unsheathing my second blade, I position myself in front of Donovan, guarding him from any beasts that dare to attack us. One Warg rider is quick to notice my disposition and directs its steed towards me, only to be felled by a passing horseman.

Minutes upon minutes of more bloodshed pass, and then, just as quickly as it began, the fight is over. Stray Wargs and Orcs are shot down by archers while the remaining horsemen survey the destruction. But I care not for the corpses, nor does the tragedy of death hang over my head. Not yet, anyway.

Craddling Donovan's head in my lap, I comb my fingers through his mane while whispering Elvish incantations. My powers, weakened still from the Uruk-hai and now by the battle, are not strong enough to heal his wounds or mine. His wound has stopped bleeding, but much to my dismay, I cannot take away the damage that has already been wrought. He will have to overcome that on his own, for now.

"Rest now, my friend," I say, pressing my temple against his. "You have nothing to fear."

"My lady." Glancing up, I watch as King Theoden makes his way over to me. "The horse's injuries are grave. He will not recover in time."

"Are you suggesting I leave him here, my liege?" I inquire bitterly.

The man seems taken aback by my harsh tone, but says nothing of it. "I am suggesting that you put the poor beast out of his misery. He's been through enough."

Tears threaten to leak out of my eyes, and I look away. "Forgive me, my liege, but I will not give up on him. I… I can't give up on him."

"Aragorn!"

Legolas's sharp cry draws Theoden's attention as well as mine. The elf frantically scans the blood-stained turf, searching for his friend. Gimli, too, calls for the Ranger, but to no avail. Frowning, I look down at Donovan, then back up to Theoden. The King simply says, "Heed my words," before striding off to survey the damage.

Then, my ears pick up a sound. A rasping kind of laughter coming from the edge of the cliff. Legolas and Gimli hear it, also. They both rush over in its direction, and I sneer upon noting the dying Orc responsible for the noise.

"Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing," hisses Gimli, hoisting up his axe.

In a choked voice, the Orc replies. "He's…dead." My heart skips a beat. "He took a little tumble off the cliff."

Mirroring my own disbelief, Legolas lashes out and grips the Orcs neck. "You lie!"

The miserable beast chuckles, blood gushing from its mouth, before going limp in the elf's grasp. Legolas releases his hold on the creature's neck, only to pry something out from its stiff fingers. A gleaming necklace, crafted from the finest of crystal and silver. The Evenstar.

Horrorstruck, Legolas rushes to the cliff edge, where Theoden already stands. They remain there in silence, listening to the rush of the river far below them. A surviving horseman bustles up to the king. They exchange a few words, and the man rushes back towards where the rest of the villagers huddle some distance away. Legolas turns to look at Theoden, shock and anger evident in his gaze. The king simple places a hand on his shoulder and mutters, "Come," before striding away.

"No," I whisper. "No, it can't be. Not Aragorn." I place my hand over my mouth, overwhelmed by the pain in my heart. "He can't be gone."

I don't remember getting up. I don't remember leaving Donovan's side and going to stand with him. All I know is the feeling of his body pressed against my own as I pull him into an embrace. The feeling of my tears soaking into his tunic, and the blood trickling down my leg in thick streams. Pain has overwhelmed us both, for we stand like that for what feels like an age, sharing one another's sorrows. Legolas holds me tightly, but gentle enough as to not aggravate the still-healing wounds on my back and shoulder. I press my face into the nape of his neck, taking pleasure in his warm, familiar smell.

We remain that way for quite some time before, wordlessly, I lean back to look him in the eye. "Do not doubt. Aragorn is strong. He could not have been felled so easily."

The Elf stares at me in silence before replying. "Hope is all we have left, Keira." Turning his gaze to the horizon, he clutches the Evenstar tightly. "It is all we have left."

Seeing him like this, hurting, drives me mad with grief. In Aragorn, I have lost a good friend and comrade, but Legolas… he has lost more. Legolas has been his friend since the Ranger was hardly a boy. And to loose someone so dear to you... there is no doubt that he is feeling what I felt weeks ago with Carca.

Eyes lowered, Legolas makes to leave. Much to my own surprise, I find myself taking his hand, preventing him from going any further. The Elf turns, his gaze soft and mellow as it meets with my own. Heart pounding, I step closer to him until our breaths are intermingled in the small space between us. All I see are blue eyes, like sapphires and amethysts bathed in moonlight. Tears glisten at their rims.

"Legolas," I say softly, "I'm sorry." A single tear rolls down my cheek as I press my forehead against his own, willing all his pain and suffering into myself. My fingers dig into his tunic, stiff with coiled sorrow. "I'm so, so sorry."

"This is not your doing," he whispers.

My heart yearns to fall back into his arms. To watch the rest of the world fade away while we two remain, bathed forever more in the light of the sun. To be away from conflict and to simply be normal, if only for a moment.

But it cannot be.

"Come on, then," says Gimli mournfulyl. "There's nothing left for us here."

With a final whisper of, "I'm sorry," I brush my lips against the Prince's cheek before stepping back. "You two go on ahead," I say. "I'll catch up with you."

"What's holding you back, lass?"

A knot forms in my throat. "My horse. He's… suffering."

The dwarf frowns, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Legolas tilt his head. "He seems quite fine to me," Gimli says. "A bit battered, albeit, but nothing that a good steed like himself can't handle."

If it weren't for a nudge at my hip, I dare say that I would never have believed Gimli at all. With a furrowed brow I turn around, and my eyes are met with a sight I did not expect.

Donovan.

Fresh tears blur my vision as I take in the sight of the horse. Gimli was right. He is battered. His dark fur is smeared with both the enemy's blood and his own, with cherry blossoms still sprouting from smaller, lesser wounds. The gash on his side has become clogged with red. His injuries are terrible, and a lesser horse might never have recovered from them. Yet here he stands, still fighting.

"Good lad," I say, smiling through my tears. Reaching out, I grip hold of his reins and stroke his nose. A rumble emanates deep within Donovan's throat. "Just a few more hours, and my strength will return. Then I can heal those battle scars of yours."

Gimli mutters something incomprehensible before trudging off towards the group. Looking back to Legolas, I allow myself a small smile. "Will you walk with me?"

Legolas steps to my side and, with slow, gentle fingers, slides his hand around my waist. I savor his touch, however brief, as we follow after the dwarf. Donovan plods beside me. Suddenly, pains stabs out from my injured thigh, and I stumble.

If Legolas hadn't been there to catch me, I fear I would have cracked my head open. "You're hurt," he says with a frown, gazing down at my leg.

"Oh, it's nothing re..."

Before I have a chance to finish, Legolas hooks his arms beneath my knees and back and sweeps me off the ground. I stare at him in disbelief, but The Elf simply clutches me tighter and continues to walk. I remain in a state of befuddlement for some time before reluctantly leaning my head against his shoulder.

"What now?" I ask.

He sighs deeply. "Now, we prepare."

I already know the answer before I ask, "For what?"

A hardness grows in his features, and Legolas glances back at the countless bodies littered about the landscape.

"For war."


Keira!

His call rings out unanswered. Rage floods through his veins as he struggles against his bindings, slashing at them with his claws and teeth. Blood splatters from his sides as the sharp links cut deeper and deeper into his skin. Garbled laughter echoes from beyond his cell door.

"She can't hear you, fool," the wizard says. "Your efforts are in vain."

He refuses to listen. He can't believe him... not with his sanity at stake.

Keira, hear me!

Please, answer!

At long last, his mind releases its hold on her faraway consciousness, and he collapses to the ground. Blood trickles out from his nose and mouth, and a single, crystal tear drips from his eye. In all his long years of life, never once has he shed a tear. Not even when he watched his own mother being slaughtered. He simply mourns. Like now, as he lies motionless on the cold, dark floor caked in his own blood, he mourns his kin. He mourns those whose lives have already been taken in the brutal war that dawns on the horizon.

But for her... a simple mourning could not do justice.

For her-his rider, his bond, and his life-he weeps.

"Take care of yourself," he wheezes aloud.

"Take care of yourself when I'm gone."