It…has been too long. I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I just had a really hard time progressing everything how I wanted it. I still feel that this chapter is a little rushed, but if I keep holding back until it's perfect I may never post. Don't get me wrong…I don't hate it….it just covers a lot quickly. So… here it is.

Chapter 37 – Deliver Us

By the time Cerena remembered the little pouch forgotten in her bag, it was too late to take it to Gandalf. He was long gone to Isengard, against her advice. But he was fully grown, older than the hills, and powerful enough to be able to make his own decisions. So instead she sought out the only other person she knew that would have enough wisdom to pass judgment on an unknown artifact: Elrond.

She found him coming back from the training grounds, his hair pulled back in a simple tail and wet with sweat near his scalp. His face was shining with beads of perspiration, but he had a joyous laugh on his lips as he walked with Gil-Galad.

"It was like old times, cousin, putting you in the dirt!" Gil-Galad bolstered with a cocky grin.

"Aye, but it was also like old times when I caught you off guard and made you kiss the grass. I hope you enjoyed the taste of the summer blades!" Elrond returned, nudging his cousin jokingly.

Cerena watched them with a smile on her face. Elrond had been enjoying sparring with Gil-Galad. They did it now as often as he trained with Glorfindel, and she could see the old training coming back to him in every movement he made. He was starting to hold himself like a warrior, and it set her core on fire to see the confidence in his steps; the quiet grace in his footsteps. Of course, the defined muscles of his calves and thighs was also a nice incentive.

"Cerena, there you are! When will you join us all for a good spar?" Gil-Galad said, being the first to spot her.

"I may do so soon," she demurred. "But first I need to speak with Elrond of something important," she said. Gil-Galad grinned.

"Don't take too long. The servants never allow us to eat before the Lord is seated at the table, and I don't fancy my potatoes cooling while you two roll about like a pair of rabbits," he teased, before heading off in the direction of the baths. Elrond plucked a loose cloth from somewhere inside the tunic he had worn to training, and using it to wipe the sweat from his face.

"What is the matter, Cerena?" he asked, giving her a soft, warm smile.

"I just remembered something that needed to be discussed with Gandalf, but he is likely halfway to Isengard by now and you're the only other one I believe might be qualified to discuss it," she said, scuffing the toes of her leather slippers against the cobblestone path.

"Very well. Let us retire to my study," he said, taking the appropriate path. When they were safely inside the cozy office he shut the heavy door and walked to a sideboard to pour himself a generous glass of clean, cool water.

"Would you like some water, melleth?" he asked gently, referring to her in a more intimate way now that they were not out in the open.

"No thank you," she said, clutching the small leather satchel. It was too stiff to feel anything through it, though she would not lie and say she had not been tempted to look. After he had taken a long pull from the glass he set it aside and sat in his chair, folding his hands politely and giving her his attention.

"How can I be of service?"

"I was told not to open this but in the presence of the Grey Wizard, but I have a most pressing concern that it should be opened sooner rather than later," she said, setting the small pouch on the corner of the desk. His intense grey eyes focused on it, tilting his head slightly.

"Do you know what it might be?" he asked, reaching for the pouch.

"I have a suspicion, but nothing more," she said.

"And what might that be?" he asked, fingers closing over the leather.

"I think it might be the third elemental Orc Ring," she said. Elrond's fingers stilled for a moment, before he plucked up the pouch anyway.

"Which element?" he asked.

"The Ring of Earth is held by Durbûrz, and the Ring of Thunder is held by Gaathgothlaab. This must be the ring of Ice," she said. Elrond opened the satchel and tilted it into his open palm. As predicted, a small, unassuming ring fell into his awaiting hand. It was made of dark silver, with a small, pale blue gem that glittered like wet ice.

"It's incredibly cold," Elrond murmured, turning the ring over and studying it. He felt no malevolence from it, only a strange, pulsing power so similar to his own that it made his Ring finger twitch. It was like a different piece of the same cake, familiar and different at the same time.

"It's beautiful," Cerena murmured. Elrond's eyes cut upward, looking at Cerena. She was enthralled with the Ring in his hand, but there was something in her eyes that did not make him panic at it. There was longing, yes, but it was not the same desperate, jealous desire he had once seen in the eyes of Isildur as he spied the One Ring.

He had no desire to give her this Ring. He did not wish the burden of a Ring of Power on her. She already had enough laden onto her scarred shoulders. So he put the Ring back into its pouch, and the connection was broken.

"Beautiful, yes, but do not forget that the Rings of Power can be very dangerous," he said, before slipping the pouch into a drawer in his desk. Cerena bodily shook herself.

"It was like it called to me. I've never heard your Ring like that…" She said warily.

"Because I am the Master of this Ring. Were it taken from me it could be remastered, but while it's on my hand it does not call to anyone else," he said glancing down at Vilya. It was of yellow gold with a broad blue sapphire that glinted unassumingly. Its power was of air, and was quite useful in keeping the weather around Imladris moderate year-round.

"Interesting," Cerena said. But she could only see a mild glinting light on his hand, the Ring hidden to those who were not Ringbearers.

"Gandalf will return. Until then I will hold onto this," Elrond said. Cerena merely smiled in response.

"I feel better now that it has been taken care of. I was very worried about it," She admitted.

"I am glad to have soothed your mind," Elrond said smoothly. But he had a passing thought. "Cerena…you told Gandalf that he would only just escape the clutches of Saruman. What did you mean?" he asked curiously.

"Saruman took him prisoner in Orthanc. He kept him at the top of the tower. It was written that Radagast the Brown saw Gandalf and sent a great Eagle to him to rescue him from the top of the tower," Cerena said. She could not know whether it would be book or movie history at this point. There were so many deviations already…

"I see. And what is this in relation to the Council?" he asked. He had been planning for this Council for a while, now. Especially since finding out that Saruman had betrayed Middle Earth. He had sent missives to Lothlórien and Mirkwood and to Erebor, as well. Cerena said a Man from Gondor would come of his own accord.

He had also sent missives to the Black Valley. If this Council was to discuss the future of Middle Earth and what the Free Peoples would do to stay free, it needed to include the High Orcs as well. Durbûrz he would trust well enough to bring his own councilors if he needed it. He would leave that option open to him and pray for the best. This wouldn't go over well with the Dwarves or Men, but to the Elves he likely would have less of a reaction due to his campaign on Cerena's behalf.

"Gandalf, if he is imprisoned, will not escape until about halfway through September," she said. "The Council will take place at the end of October. A lot of things happen in October, as a matter of fact. Frodo and the other hobbits will be on their way from the end of September and will get here only a few days before the Council. It was such fortuitous timing before," she said.

"So what should we do?" he asked. Cerena looked away from him, looking at the wall for several quiet moments as she thought.

"We prepare. We build up supplies and we train. It's all we can do. Boromir of Gondor has already left Minas Tirith and is on his way. He will arrive shortly before the council, without horse and little supplies. All we can do is prepare for the eventuality of the quest," Cerena said.

Elrond nodded and sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking off in concentration. Cerena was also running through the events that needed to take place. What could safely be changed, and what was required to move everything forward? She hated to think like that. The thought that someone should suffer because something needed to happen in response was deplorable. She would certainly do what she could, just as she had in Rohan.

Her most pressing concern was when Frodo was injured at Weathertop. That wound had made him suffer greatly, and had been a huge deciding factor in his decision to sail to Valinor. Frodo deserved to have a life- a true life- after the Ring was destroyed. He had suffered. True, he had done several things in his community before he sailed, but all the while the weight of his wounds (spiritual and physical) weighed down on his heart.

"I will go with Aragorn when he retrieves the Hobbits," Cerena said suddenly. Elrond lifted his eyes to her in surprise.

"Why?" he asked.

"There is something that happens there that I will seek to change for the better," she said. Elrond studied her face. She had determination in her eyes. He would be a fool to try and talk her out of it. She was not interested in that.

"Very well. Only allow me to help you prepare as best you can," he said. She stood from her seat and moved around his desk, kneeling in front of him and putting her hands on his knees.

"If everything goes well I can prevent a poor Hobbit from being summarily tortured by a wound," she said softly. Elrond leaned forward slightly, running his hand over the braid she had put in her hair, and trailing his fingers over her cheek.

"You have a kind heart. If you know of an injustice you will do your best to correct it. I understand your actions," Elrond assured her. She gave him a bright smile.

"I'm such a lucky girl," she said with a grin. He returned her exuberant smile.

"Not as lucky as I am, I assure you," he returned. Then her grin turned naughty.

"Want to get even luckier?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at him. He laughed at her expression.

"I can be persuaded to disappear for a bit," he laughed. Cerena looked ever so pleased with herself. "After a bath," he added.

Cerena pouted.

She walked silently with Aragorn along the dusty road towards Bree. Her sword hilts tapped against her legs occasionally, reminding her of the comforting weight of the dichotomous blades. Traveling with Aragorn was rather boring, as he was not a talkative person. The only time he ever was good for a conversation was when he would enjoy his pipe in the evening. Other than that he only spoke to give an order or warning to her.

He had come through Rivendell to be refreshed of supplies before heading out to retrieve the Hobbits. She had gone back and forth with him for hours about joining him, before she finally convinced him by telling him if there was no help for him one of the Hobbits would be dangerously injured. Aragorn's love for the Hobbit-folk outweighed his propriety for bringing a woman- orc or not- on a dangerous mission.

Elrond had not been too keen on her going when he was told that the Nine would be seeking the Hobbits as well. He wished for her to take one or both of the Reborn Kings with her, or even send one in her stead, but she did not wish to capitulate. She knew more than she could explain to them, and could help just as much or more. And besides that she would be able to blend into the dark and dirty city better than glowing elves. At that Elrond finally caved. Not that he would have been able to stop her from going…it was just nice that he was not averse to it.

They were not far from Bree when Cerena finally stopped.

"You must go into the city without me," she said. Aragorn frowned at her, looking at her from underneath the shelter of his hood.

"And why will you not enter?" he asked. She leveled him with a look.

"Even if we were to hide my eyes, teeth, ears and claws, there is still the matter of my dark skin. Look me in the eyes and tell me that being brown would not cause any trouble?" she asked starkly. He could not. "As I thought. I will wait beyond the view of the gates for you to return with the Hobbits. When that happens we will reunite," she said.

"You know what hunts them. They may find you," Aragorn said reasonably.

"In and of myself I am not a beacon to them. I am an orc, beneath their veiled gaze. Besides, I don't plan on dancing in the streets singing 'I know things that Sauron wants," she said in a singsong voice. Though his lip twitched he raised a cautioning hand to her.

"Be you slow to speak that name aloud," he admonished. She smiled. There was a field of high grass to their left which passed by a small copse of trees.

"I will be in the trees watching the gate," she said, disappearing into the grass. Aragorn grinned at the elvish influence in her camouflage. She had spent many years around elves as he had, and had adapted some of their technique. He watched a final rustle of the grass from afar, before he saw a small glimpse of her going up a tree. Satisfied that she knew how to take care of herself, he approached the line of sight of the gate.

Aragorn had been in Bree two days when the Nazgûl finally showed up. Cerena was dozing against the tree when she heard one of them call out.

It was a sound like a wounded animal, but it made her heart freeze in her chest. From her position on the branch she could see two riders in black approaching the gates. The horses they rode were huge to have to hold such large creatures. They were shrouded in black, their faces hidden beneath their hoods. The only thing visible were their arms and legs, which were encased in tarnished iron armor.

She could only hope the Hobbits had beaten them to Bree as they had before.

"Stop making such a racket!" she heard a deep voice say. It took her a moment to realize she had heard one of the wraiths speak.

"I was signaling to Adunaphel!" the other wraith hissed, its voice high and thin.

"Adunaphel isn't blind, nor is he stupid," the deep voice scolded. She saw a gauntleted hand lift up and make a motion behind the other wraith's back, miming someone speaking.

"Don't make me break off your arm, Uvatha," the voice added. "I would hate for you to have to search for it like you did when we woke up again."

"You hid my arm in Dol Guldur! You hid it! You such a bully, Murazor!" the wraith whined. The wraith in front turned on his horse and Cerena saw a glimpse of glowing white eyes.

"Shut your mouth," he hissed. The other Nazgûl was quiet after this.

Cerena looked at them in consternation, before looking up at the sky. Elbereth's stars were twinkling intermittently between dark clouds. Adunaphel….Uvatha….Murazor….these were names of the Nine. Murazor seemed far familiar to her for some reason, but she couldn't quite place why…

The next morning did not come quickly enough, and when it did she was glad to see the rays of Anor break through the trees. She was out of her tree and walking along the road they would take when she heard the voices coming up the road.

"Sam, I can't believe you nailed ol' Bill Ferny in the face with an apple!" one of them laughed.

"Well, he was being a snotty ol' rag, an' I just got so mad!" Sam replied. Cerena stopped and turned towards them, her hood still hiding her eyes in the morning light.

"Hey! Who's that?" she heard one of them mutter.

"Hail, Strider!" she called.

"It's a woman!" She heard Sam exclaim.

"Hail, Brown Lady," Aragorn said, using the Rohirric name she had given him for the roads.

"Does she know what's going on?" Frodo asked.

"She is well-trusted to Gandalf," Aragorn said.

"Hail, Hobbits," she said gently.

"Why did she not meet us as you did, Strider?" one of the younger ones asked.

"They would not appreciate my appearance," Cerena explained, before reaching up and sweeping back her hood. Only Frodo was well versed enough to trip backwards into Strider's legs.

"Strider!" Frodo called in alarm.

"That was unkind, Lady," Aragorn frowned.

"She looks funny," the youngest looking said.

"I suppose I would look funny to you, Pippin," Cerena said with a smile. Pippin gasped.

"How does she know me?" he asked in alarm.

"The Brown Lady is a Seer among her kind," Aragorn explained. Cerena caught sight of the pitiful looking pony and grinned broadly.

"What a faithful creature you have on your hands, Sam. Have you decided what to name him?" she asked. Sam looked at the Pony and back at the brown-skinned stranger.

"Well he has the same sad face as his pitiful owner. I was going to call him Bill," Sam replied. Cerena smiled, showing a glint of white fangs.

"Are we to travel with an orc?" Frodo asked. Aragorn put his hand on Frodo's shoulder as the others seemed to realize what she was.

"She is not like any orc Bilbo may have told you about. In fact, your Uncle has met her, for she has spent time in Rivendell," Aragorn said.

"We can talk more as we walk, lads. I've seen what hunts your party and they are not swayed by rosy cheeks," Cerena said. Aragorn's grey eyes cut to her but they said nothing as they continued on.

Just as it had been described in the books, Aragorn cut a looping, winding path to put off any pursuers. He led with confidence that Cerena would not have had on these paths, but was able to follow nonetheless.

"So how is it that you walk among the sunbeams?" Frodo asked at one point, looking at Cerena.

"Because I am not the kind of orc you are thinking of, Frodo," she replied easily.

"Why are you carrying two swords?" Pippin asked. Cerena turned to the Hobbit as they walked.

"I was taught to wield two blades. I can fight with either, but sometimes I fight with both," she said reasonably.

"You've met Old Bilbo?" Merry asked. Cerena laughed.

"I have. I sit with him in Elrond's gardens sometimes as he works on his book. I like to knit while he writes," Cerena said.

This continued on for some time, each of the Hobbits asking questions of her. Except Sam, who seemed to only watch her with suspicion since finding out she was an Orc. Her only saving grace to him seemed to be the fact that Bill the Pony seemed oblivious to her.

The pleasant forest land they had traversed turned flat and treacherous, before starting to give way to soggy, boggy land. There were no permanent trails even for rangers, and their quick progress at the beginning slowly fell into short bursts of a few steps.

The Midges were set up to be the worst part, or they would have been if Cerena hadn't come up with a solution.

"Midges, and most insects for that matter, will not feast on orc-flesh, or drink the blood of orcs," she said. "The orc who taught me of wilderness survival showed me a trick, if you'll allow me," she said. Then, pulling her heavy dagger from a sheath at her knee, she made a shallow cut on her forearm. Then, dipping her fingers into the sluggish black blood, she smeared a bit on the faces of the hobbits like one might put on sunscreen. She offered some to Aragorn, but he turned away from it, his face unreadable.

"It smells funny," Pippin said, wrinkling his nose.

But it worked a charm. Though they got a few nibbles at their hands and feet, their faces were clear of the insects and after a day they made it out of the marshes none the worse for wear.

Cerena's dreams were getting darker the closer they got to Weathertop. All she could see was the scenes in the movie where Frodo was seduced by the Ring and then struck with a Morgul blade. Aragorn was not blind to the way she watched Frodo, and even confronted her one night when the Hobbits were asleep.

"Why do you stare at him so? Do you hear the call of what he carries?" he asked, unwilling to call attention to the Ring.

"No. It does not call to me," Cerena said. "Not yet, anyways," she added honestly.

"It was a vision that brought me along with you, and it's that vision that bothers me so," she said after a time. She looked at where Frodo slept under his blanket. "We will confront the Nazgûl at Weathertop," she said. She heard Aragorn inhale sharply. "Or, I should say, they will confront us. If I do not find a way to change my vision Frodo will be struck with a Morgul blade," she finished.

"He will be turned into a wraith?" Aragorn asked.

"No, he will make it to Rivendell for healing…but…the wound will never truly heal," she said. "I wish to spare him that pain, if I can."

Then they were silent. Cerena dozed a bit in her cloak as Aragorn kept watch. When the sun rose the next day they were off, and Aragorn did not watch her as closely as he had before.

They did not make straight for Weathertop, instead coming at it from below and through the brush and bracken, using it for a shield to keep themselves hidden from those who might be looking down from the hill. The hill itself was crowned with a large ring of crumbling stone that had once been the tower of Amon Syl.

When the Hobbits asked about the history of Amon Syl, and Aragorn mentioned the army of Gil-Galad, Cerena could not suppress a snort when Sam sang the pan of the ballad of Gil-Galad.

"What is it, Lady?" Sam asked. Cerena smiled.

"He hates that song," she mentioned.

"Who?" Sam asked, confused.

"Gil-Galad," she replied.

"Gil-Galad? But how would you know him? He's long fallen!" Sam exclaimed.

"Aye, he did fall. But like Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer he came back to Middle Earth. He sailed with several elves that had died before. Why, for several years I traveled with Gil-Galad and Oropher in Rohan, seeking to help the Rohirrim in their fight against the darkness," she said. Frodo started.

"Oropher? As in King Oropher of the Woodland realm? Thranduil's father, Oropher?" he asked. She grinned.

"Yes. He was rather fond of Rohirric ale, and won many drinking contests between unassuming soldiers," she recalled fondly. This happened many times when she sent the two into towns and villages to gather information or supplies. "He drinks wine like water and swears quite colorfully if you can manage to get him well and truly arse-over-elbows drunk," she added. Sam's mouth opened in surprise at the thought of an elf, any elf, swearing.

Then they found the small white stone Gandalf left as a sign.

"Gandalf will meet us at Rivendell," Cerena answered for them, when pressed for the location of the wizard. And because Aragorn trusted her, the Hobbits seemed to as well.

The night came upon them too quickly. Aragorn had them gather the firewood left at the nearby stream, though they did not light it just yet, and as the sun began to go down Cerena's feeling of dread began to grow. Eventually the Hobbits sat in a circle, backs out, watching the horizon for danger. The night was almost spent when the wraiths came into view.

"Wait, look!" she heard Pippin whisper sharply. In the partially shaded light of the moon they could see specks on the horizon.

"Yes…the enemy is here," Aragorn said, peeking between two ruined stones at the edge of the ring.

"Can they see us?" Merry asked.

"They do not see the world as we do, but they can sense the power of a creature's spirit. It was one of the reasons Gil-Galad and Oropher were not chosen to come along to help you all, nor any other elf. The Wraiths would have been drawn as moths to a bright flame, and our secrecy would have been for naught," Cerena said. "I am a lowly orc, and Strider a Man. We pass beneath their gaze, save for existing among the living."

"Should we not leave, then?" Frodo asked.

"The night is almost spent, though they are no less dangerous in the day. Any retreat we made would be seen by them, no matter the road. So we will stay where we keep the high ground," Aragorn said.

"So if I move I will be hunted, but if I stay they will track me down? Is there no escape?" Frodo asked in panic. It was Cerena who moved forward, kneeling before the hobbit.

"You are not alone, Frodo Baggins. Strider stands with you, and so do I. Your friends will not leave you to torment. I came to aid one who carries a great burden. I will not let your burden be any heavier than you can bear," she said. Frodo looked up into her yellow eyes in surprise, studying her face and expression. Then he looked at Aragorn, whose countenance was just as fierce.

"Long have I and my folk protected the Hobbits. I will not let down my guard just because we are not in Hobbiton," he added.

"I am glad to hear this," Frodo said, looking back to Cerena.

"If you are a friend to Gandalf and Bilbo, then you are a friend to me," he said earnestly. Cerena tilted her head slightly, her yellow eyes bright despite the darkness.

"I take my friendships very seriously, and my duties even more so. So if you'll hear my council, I have a recommendation," she said. Frodo nodded to her. "We have hope," she said, looking at Aragorn and giving him a wink. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "And we have spirit. Let us take the firewood by the stream as a sign of good fortune from the Valar. We can build a fire to use against them. Their Master might be well-versed in the art of fire, and use it for his own gains, but they are of shadow and darkness and hate the warmth and light of fire," Cerena said.

So they made a small fire out of some of the wood, sitting around it and basking in its light. To keep their spirits high Aragorn and Cerena took turns telling them stories, and Cerena even sang for them a little, keeping her voice low over the fire. The Hobbits liked to hear her sing, and even encouraged her to sing another, before the snapping of a twig in the distance startled them all.

"What was that?" Pippin asked.

"Hush!" Strider said starkly. Over the ring of stone, near where the hill started to swell downwards, they felt the presence of a shadow rise up. Then another followed it, the shapes undulating against the darkness. They had no solid outline at first, but as they started to draw close they were as tall, slender men dressed in voluminous cloaks, their faces hidden by hoods.

"Keep close to the fire with your faces outward. Take up some of the longer sticks!" Aragorn said.

Cerena drew both of her swords, comforted in the sound of leather hissing against steel. Aradhathel was glowing blue in proximity to her and Burzskag seemed to catch the red light of the fire and glow darkly as well.

"Do you think an elvish blade will prevail against us?" a voice hissed, high and raspy.

"I think you better scuttle back to your master. I believe his boots haven't been licked in too long," Cerena found herself saying. Her heart was beating against her ribcage painfully, her eyes wide.

"A she-orc with an elven blade and an even sharper tongue? I believe my Master wants to have a word with you," the wraith hissed again. One of the shaded figures stepped forward, taller than the other.

"How fortuitous," he purred, his deep voice resonating through the air and setting her teeth on edge.

In one hand he held a blade the color of bone, glittering coldly in the firelight, and in his other he held a knife of black steel, unadorned and dangerous.

"Go back to the Black lands you came from, slave," Cerena hissed with more bravado than she felt.

"You have nerve to refer to me as a slave, snaga," the tall wraith hissed.

"Stop goading it, Lady," Aragorn hissed, holding his sword in one hand, and a brand in the other.

"Yes, little dog. Stop barking so loud," the wraith laughed cruelly. "You have something my Master seeks. If you give it up willingly I will kill you quickly. If you refuse, I will smear your blood from here to Mordor," the wraith's voice dropped into a growl. Cerena felt the hair on her neck prickling, and bared her fangs.

"I have nothing but ill wishes for your Master. Tell him to go swim in Orodruin!" she barked.

"Lady!" Aragorn snapped.

"You have much spirit, little orcling," the Nazgûl growled. "I will enjoy breaking it and hearing you beg for death."

The Nazgûl stepped forward, followed by the others. Merry and Pippin crowed in terror and threw themselves down. Sam shrank against his Master's side. Frodo was no less terrified, but Cerena saw the emptiness in his eyes and knew the Ring was calling him.

"Frodo! No!" Cerena snarled.

But eventually the call was too much for him and with a movement of his hand she saw him disappear. With a shrill scream of triumph the tallest wraith darted forward.

Cerena broke away from the group, meeting him before he could come upon them. He swung the slender blade with such force that the air whistled, and she had to dodge. Burzskag and Aradhathel sang in her hands and she was only vaguely aware of her movements. The wraith was strong and agile, parrying and knocking away her blows like an annoying gnat.

A storm was gathering overhead, the thunderclouds rumbling ominously as they fought.

The other Nazgûl were standing behind, watching the maelstrom of the girl's fight with their chief. Truth be told they had rather mixed feelings about what they hoped for the outcome. On one hand, it would be nice to see Murazor get his ass handed to him. On the other hand, they would have to hear his whining all the way back to Mordor.

As much as Cerena had held a blade, she did not have the Nazgûl's stamina, nor his skill. But even the most unskilled warrior can have a bit of luck, now and then. And by luck Cerena knew it was nothing short of divine intervention. The wraith swept his blade low to strike at her legs, and she jumped over the keen blade as quickly as she could. But the wraith had measured the move and shifted forward, kicking her legs out from under her with inhuman grace. She fell backward and slammed her back against the ground. Aradhathel was thrown from her hand but she managed to hold onto the orc-blade.

The wraith shot forward, stomping down hard on her wrist as he passed. The Morgul blade was held aloft, and was quickly headed for where she presumed Frodo had fallen.

"Fuck you!" she cried, pulling Burzskag forward with all her might and stabbing it into the booted foot as it passed. The Nazgûl missed its mark and tumbled forward. Aragorn did not waste this moment and came from behind with a splendid blow that knocked the wraith straight into the fire. It went into one end and out the other, screaming up a storm that made their teeth hurt. Then Aragorn threw the brand he had been carrying straight into the cloak of one of the other wraiths, whose gauzy, dry robes immediately caught fire. With a panicked shriek it flailed miserably and knocked into one of its companions, causing a domino effect of fire.

The wraiths fled into the night, screaming their displeasure.

Cerena could not even enjoy the fact that she had bested a Nazgûl in open combat. She stared in horror at the blade she had used to stab its foot. The blade had broken into many pieces, leaving only the hilt intact. What pieces had touched the wraith were coated in a black, slimy ichor that smoked ominously. That was her orc-blade. That was…that was the blade Stargush had given her. That blade had served her faithfully in Rohan.

"Cerena! Come out of it!" She heard Aragorn cry. She lifted the handle of the sword reverently.

"My blade…" she keened in despair. "No!" she cried as though she had lost a companion, and in many ways she had. All of the hurt and shame of losing Stargush came rushing back as she stared at the shattered remains of the sword. She reached forward and picked up one of the smoking black pieces before Aragorn could get to her. She stiffened up on contact with the metal, her eyes rolling back as she began to seize for a moment, before dropping limply to the dirt.

Everything was very dark, save for a swirling red light against the wall. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she realized she was seeing a tall dark chair facing the wall. The chair was wood and iron and was a spiked monstrosity of furniture, and gave her the creeps just looking at it.

"Hello?" she called. Where was she?

She saw movement at the chair and the light shifted, turning towards her. For several moments she stared directly into two points of undulating light before she realized it was eyes.

"And what is this?" the voice asked, standing from the chair. He was massively tall and built like a brick tower. He was dressed in thick iron armor from his waist down, and was wearing a dark tunic over it. His hair fell in thick black shadows around his face, marred lightly with streaks of iron grey. His face was sharp and angular, his mouth curled up into a shark-toothed smile.

"You are an elusive thing," he added. She could not move or speak. "And what strange little powers they have given you…"

He jerked mightily and bit down on his own lip, shaking himself as though from a trance. When he looked back at her the fiery glowing eyes had faded to amber.

"You should not be here. I do not know what has drawn you here but you should not do so again. Wake up, little Seer. Wake up!" he said, and took a step towards her. She startled into action and took several steps back, slamming into the wall and throwing up her hands to protect her.

She awoke when her hand connected solidly with something, and she heard a startled yell. When she opened her eyes she saw Aragorn sitting back on his left hand, his right held to his nose as he tried to stem blood flow.

"You had a vision!" Aragorn said.

"I'm sorry!" Cerena said. She saw Frodo sitting between Sam and Merry, trembling as though in a storm.

"We need to get out of here!" Aragorn said, pushing himself up. His nose was bleeding a bit, but it did not seem that she had done him a grievous wound.

Cerena grabbed up the pieces of Burzskag, this time being careful not to touch the sticky pieces with her bare hands. She wrapped the coated ones in a piece of her cloak and stored them in her pack, before putting the broken sword back into her sheath. Then they left Weathertop behind and fled for safety, knowing it was likely their shadowed friends would be back. Cerena, though devastated by the loss of her sword, did take some comfort in the fact that she had prevented Frodo from taking a grievous wound.

What that changed she could not know yet.

What a monster! I really hope you guys are still interested. Let me know what you think in a review. I've missed writing as much as I've missed hearing from you guys. Even if you can only spare a few words I would love to hear from you all. :)

All of the names of the Nazgûl were found on a website, but I don't think they are canon. I think they were in a game of some sort, and people have made it Fanon. But...Sassy Wraiths, guys. Sassy Wraiths...

Gil-Galad finds the Ballad of Gil-Galad really embarrassing and hates when people sing it. Not because he wants to downplay what he did in Mordor, but because he's not dead anymore. Plus that song is really depressing and it harshes his vibe, man…

Cerena will be really upset about losing the sword Stargush gave her. :( it was her first sword and one of the last things she has from her orc-lover.

If you have any questions or comments feel free to drop me a line. I'll answer them as best as I can either in a PM or a A/N.

So you've read the chapter, I'd love to see a review, or barring that, you could follow/favorite! It only takes a moment. :D