Hello! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! I hope all of you that celebrate enjoy the holiday season. The worlds a crazy place right now, be safe!

Last chapter we had a little taste of the more adult themes that will be emerging in later chapters. You've been warned; there is more to come. Good news, I have the next seven chapters written. Bad news, the new content after that point is coming along slowly! It's a bit more complicated and there are a lot of loose ends and difficult topics to cover but I have a plan. Onward!

As always thank you for the follows, favs, and the reviews! I love reading them and they never fail to make my day. Thank you to everyone for all your support and kind messages. It's a wonderful thing to be able to connect with others and know they enjoy just a little bit of what I do.

The heavy drinking from the night before still clouded his brain in the early morning hours. His eyes squinted through the brightness of the day as he wandered toward the Three Legged Mare for a hearty breakfast. Something heavy to soak up what was left sloshing around in his stomach. He had a craving for a full fry up laden with eggs, sausages, beans, and mushrooms...and if his luck held it would be an intoxicatingly beautiful redhead who would serve it to him. He couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face as he thought of the night before. The high from the whiskey had been nothing in comparison to the rush he'd felt at having her near.

Nat had danced with him, beautifully, elegantly, and with an enthusiasm he had not expected. She'd laughed and smiled without a care in the world. His arms had been around her. His hands on her waist and she had smiled at him as if he were the only man in the world. She'd let him take her hair down, soft, and full around his fingers. He had wanted to kiss her then; in the moment his fingers had loosened the weave at the base of her skull. Instead, he'd relished the flutter of her eyes as she leaned back and let him touch her.

The pins were still in his pocket.

He promised himself he would be patient with his feelings. Promised himself that he would prove himself to her and when all was said and done, she would see him with the same passions he held for her. He had made a significant step toward his goal last night. Gramm had covered more ground in one evening than he'd hoped to in the next few weeks. With battle looming on the horizon, he hadn't planned on properly pursuing her until the country had settled and he could make a life for them in Edoras. A proper life with a home outside the barracks where he, stubbornly, lived. He'd always been adamant about being out from under his father's roof. The man was a snake, and he wanted no part of his business. If it came to it, he would go to his father for a small loan, enough to get him and Nat started with the coin he had tucked away. Gramm would go to him, for her, he would.

He would have to tread carefully. He would lose his chance if he pushed her too hard and too fast. If he got ahead of himself, he had no doubt she would refuse him. It would take considerable time, effort, and attention to garner her romantic favor. They had a newly formed friendship; ground enough for him to work from. Ground he'd moved significantly forward on last night.

She had given him an unspeakable gift, one that would stick with him through the coming weeks. Images to hold onto in the coming dark.

He pushed the doors to the Three Legged Mare open wide and entered the warm inn. It wasn't bustling as it had been in the past, but it was busy enough for an early morning after a full night of feasting in the hall. Berta burst from the kitchen with trays and plates in hand. An older man was cleaning dishes and cups behind the bar. Eric, Gramm remembered his name, Nat's elder companion.

His decision made, he saddled up to the bar.

Gramm's hand drifted to his pocket to finger the pins he'd kept there.

"Good morning." He called kindly to Eric who jumped at the sound of his voice but turned with a smile.

"Good morning." Eric replied with a brief warm smile but quickly focused back in on the mug in his hand. He polished it with his rag, wiping the rim and the sidewalls until it glistened cleanly. Likely the cleanest the mug had ever been since it was made. He picked up another and started to clean it in the same manner and then another after that. Eric was mesmerized with his task and completely engrossed. His eyes were focused and bright as if he were immensely pleased with himself. Several minutes passed and Gramm was working up to interrupting Eric for his breakfast.

"Eric dear, get the poor lad some tea, will you?" Berta called as she passed behind Gramm. Eric jumped again, his shoulders lifting in surprise at the request. She gripped Gramm's shoulder briefly and squeezed. "Full fry up?"

"Yes, please ma'am." And she was off again like a bolt.

"Yes, yes, of course." He fumbled with the mug and rag for a moment before hastily making his way to the hearth. It burned low but hot with a pot of water simmering away. He ladled a portion into a mug and dropped a small bundle of herbs into the steaming water. With equally quick feet he made his way back to the bar and spooned a dollop of honey into it and passed it to Gramm.

Gramm nearly choked on his own saliva. Eric, for whatever reason, wasn't wearing any trousers.

"There you are son, sorry about that." He passed him a spoon to stir his tea and slipped a small linen napkin beneath it. Eric stared at what he had done for several long moments, contemplated it, and seemingly satisfied went back to cleaning the mugs.

"Heavens above man." Gramm hissed lowly and with no small amount of amusement. "Where are your trousers?"

Eric, his back to Gramm, looked down at his bare legs. He carefully lifted one foot and then the other. He had managed socks and shoes at least. Eric gave a small huff of dissatisfaction and cast his gaze to Gramm.

"I knew I'd forgotten something this morning." And went right back to cleaning.

Gramm did his best to muffle his laughter and was saved from the effort when Berta came barging out of the kitchen with his breakfast piled high on the plate and dripping with fat. His mouth watered at the sight.

"You're a goddess Berta." He proclaimed as he promptly cut into his food. She smiled happily and patted his arm.

The door to the pub squeaked open behind him.

"There you are lass. I wondered where you'd gone off to!'' He turned as Nat came through the doorway. Her hair was still loose and hanging in full waves around a well-rested and relaxed face. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone...the same shirt she had worn last night.

Her smile was friendly as she sat on the stool beside him.

"I'd love a bath this morning." Her nimble fingers slipped a sausage from his plate. "But food smells so much better."

"I'll bring you some eggs dear." Berta offered and patted her cheek. Nat looked good this morning, feminine and light. Her cheeks had a pleasant color to them, and her eyes were the brightest she had ever seen them. For a moment the shadows that plagued her had been pushed back. Berta happily fetched her breakfast.

She smelled good, Gramm thought, as she talked casually with Eric. Like warm spices and flowers, all rolled into one. Warm, seductive, and welcoming. He itched to touch her as he had last night and wondered briefly if she would welcome his attention in the light of day.

She eyeballed his plate again. Before she could thieve another bite, he skewered a bit of potato and mushroom and offered her his fork. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. The look made him laugh, typical of her. When she reached for his fork, he simply pushed the food forward to her lips. He took the opportunity to feed her and was immensely satisfied when her lips parted.

He was a goner, he thought as he watched her chew, an absolute goner.

Nat soaked in the tub longer than she'd intended after breakfast. It had felt too good and she was far too relaxed not to indulge herself. When the time came, she made quick work of dressing and left her hair loose to dry in its natural waves.

Grabbing her pack, she loaded the iron boxes she had crafted and left Eric in Berta's capable hands. The pair would spend the day cooking and baking in preparation for the evening meal offerings. They got along admirably. Berta was happy to have the company and help and Eric needed a guiding hand and someone that didn't think twice when he forgot his pants. She genuinely hoped they would grow to be friends. Berta was easy company to keep and genuinely kind. She hoped Eric would be a welcome distraction from her husband's absence. and that their friendship would be a comfort for them both.

She met Gandalf in the main hall along with the remaining fellowship, Wulfric, Eomer, Theoden and Eowyn. The tension in the room was palpable.

"What is it?" She asked as she scanned the faces of everyone in the hall. The guilt on Pippin's face halted her evaluation. She knew at once he was at the root of the issue. "What have you done?"

Gandalf shot a small glare in Pippin's cowering direction.

"Pippin is a fool, but an honest one he remains. The curiosity of Hobbits is a dangerous thing, Pippin's nearly killed him last night. He gazed into the Palantir orb we confiscated from Saruman and caught a glimpse of our enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing for certain." He addressed the company as a whole. "The heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still - strength enough left to challenge him."

He turned to Wulfric and Natalie as she sat down beside him. "He fears you, with your allegiances made clear, he will not risk the people of Middle Earth further uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees the return of the King."

Nat chewed casually on an apple she'd plucked from the table.

"Can he be killed? And I'm not talking about the magically bound kind of killed...I mean dead, dead. If I slit his throat would he bleed to death? If I cut off his head and mount it to a pike would it stay there?"

"Sauron's human body, his flesh and bone, have long been rotten and buried. It is his essence, his soul, and his magic that lives on and is bound in the ring. Only through its destruction can Sauron be fully undone." Legolas replied. "Our hopes now lie in the hands of two hobbits who journey to the heart of Mordor to destroy it."

"You've had correspondence with them? How do you know they're alive?" Nat asked.

"If the enemy had possession of the ring we would know. In my heart, I know they are alive." Gandalf replied. "Last night, Sauron got a glimpse of our young Pippin. It is he, Sauron now believes, possesses the ring. He thinks I've kept the ring close at hand to protect it. Having Natasha and Wulfric here solidifies this notion."

Natasha thought for a long moment. "It would be smarter to keep it close, protect it with the best warriors you can find. But...you've done the exact opposite. He's thinking what he would do not what you would do. We can use this…" She leveled her stare to Pippin and hoped he was up for the task. "Use you to keep his attention. The only question is." She looked to Gandalf this time. "Where do we want him to look?"

Gandalf hummed his agreement as if he too were thinking along the same lines. "There's more we can do to further divide his forces. We know Sauron has been building an army behind the gates of Dol Guldur. He intends to burn Mirkwood and Lothlorien and rid this world of the last elven strongholds."

Nat perked at the mention of the golden woodland, Haldir's home. After Helm's Deep his people would not have the strength to defend their vast forest.

She said as much to them. "If Isengard was any indication of their numbers, what's left of Lothlorien's army will be too small to turn back the forces of Dol Guldur."

"It is likely Lady Galadriel will pull back her forces to the heart of the city and prepare to evacuate her people to the safety of the Grey Havens. Sauron would consider the destruction of the power and light of the elves a mighty boon. She alone has the power to banish him from this plain without destroying the ring. It took him a century to fight his way back when she banished him last. A full century for his influence to regain its foothold." Gandalf paced now, his staff thumping against the floor as he moved. "He fears her."

"I saw them in my dream...the great golden trees of Lothlorien burned to ash and crumbling to the ground. There was blood pooled on the forest floor. It flowed hot and thick around my ankles." Pippin spoke softly. Tears ran down his pale cheeks from eyes that were too wide and vulnerable. "He means to destroy them and everything good in this world."

Nat was momentarily speechless at the image he painted.

Haldir's dream in Helms Deep had been exactly that. The dream had been engineered for Haldir but why show Pippin? To prove his power and his reach? To show the small hobbit who defied him just how he planned to burn the world down around him? To guilt him over the thousands of lives this war would claim? She could picture his taunting guilt-ridden proposal. Do you see the blood on your hands? Do you see the dead piled at your feet? Save them, save yourself and turn the ring over to me.

But Sauron had tipped his hand too early when he had tried to strike fear into the heart of the March Warden. While Haldir feared it, he would not let fear be used to cripple him. Haldir was not so gently minded as Theoden; he would not be manipulated. No, he would do what needed to be done based on what he knew as fact, not based on a wildly heartbreaking dream. He was too exacting and precise, too experienced to make an irrational move.

Aragorn cut in thoughtfully. "He expects us to gather the forces of men and ride to defend Gondor. That is where his reign began and that is where he intends to end it. We can still draw out his troops on the field of our choosing. Pippin must travel to Gondor and focus his eye. We will march to the front gates if we must and empty out his strongholds. We can leave a path clear for Frodo and Sam." He looked past King Theoden to Natasha. "We can draw his gaze further still. He would not expect his forces in Dol Guldur to be attacked."

She knew what he was implying. If they could keep their enemy apart and ensure that their numbers in Dol Guldur never made it to Mordor they might stand a chance. Could she do what she had at Helms Deep and kill thousands single-handedly?

All eyes were drawn to her, waiting for a reply that she could indeed perform another hair-brained scheme that might give them the advantage. She held the weight of the hopeful inquiry in their gazes. Could she strike a killing blow strong enough to save Lothlorien, Mirkwood and its people? Nat couldn't help but turn her sights to Legolas to gauge his reaction to the suggestion. She searched for any tiny fissure in his expression. He had schooled his features, but he was naturally more expressive than Haldir. A tendency he had no doubt picked up from his years spent with humans. Now his features were cool, but his eyes were deep with both pain and anger.

There were too many unknowns in this situation. Nat had studied the maps. She knew that Dol Guldur was deep in the woods of Mirkwood, Legolas's homeland. Whatever knowledge she could pry from him, she would. She had a feeling he would be a willing subject. She knew next to nothing about Dol Guldur and the army that waited there. How large of a force lurked inside the tower and surrounding woodland? Hundred? Thousands?

"I'd need more intel. I need numbers, topography, distances, weapons, I need resources and supplies." She saw the disappointment dull his eyes, but she ignored it and carried on.

"I have none of those things but given some time and careful planning it might be possible." Their collective interests perked. "I'll need a small team to consult with that knows the area and the enemy. I can leave first thing tomorrow." She had once had the backing of the richest men and governments on the planet who could finance the most technologically advanced weaponry money could buy...now all she had was her wit and her skills.

"You think it's possible to save it?" Pippin spoke up from his side of the table again. His eyes shone with unshed tears and just the smallest gleam of revived hope.

Nat fisted her hands into her pockets. "We won't know until I try."

"Gondor must be warned." Aragorn added desperately. "They must be made aware of Sauron's plans before it is too late to prepare."

"They will be." Gandalf replied with a low tone only meant for Aragorn. She couldn't help but overhear any more than Legolas could. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river, look to the black ships, understand this…. things are now in motion that cannot be undone." Gandalf turned on his heels and stared at a surprised Pippin. "I ride for Minas Tirith and I won't be going alone!"

Nat followed Gandalf to where the company had bunked down for the night off the side of the main hall. She watched as Pippin frantically stuffed what little he owned in his pack. His eyes were wide and terrified at the prospect of being used to bait Sauron.

He was so small and childlike; Nat would have felt sorry for him if she hadn't seen him smoking and drinking ale like a fish. The appearance of innocence was misplaced with the likes of him and Merry. Attached at the hip she'd watch the two of them guzzle alcohol, dance, and flirt the night away.

But no one deserved what would likely await him in Gondor.

War was never kind to the gentle-hearted.

"Hobbits are sturdier folk than one would expect." Legolas said quietly from beside her. He'd learned this himself over the course of their travels. While his previous experience with hobbits was close to naught; he had expected them to be as mischievous as his father had described.

"He'll know what he's made of if he lives to see the end of this. He'll never look at the world the same way again." She replied softly. It was a pity that so many would and already had died for the greed and power of one man. He would never fully recover from the trauma. He wasn't built for it. Physically he might get lucky and survive but the emotional trauma would stick with him for the rest of his life. Once exposed to the darkest reaches of the world where the creatures from nightmares reigned, the old simple joys of daily life would never be enough to burn away the horrors.

He watched her face change from its usual hard jawed indifference to something akin to sympathy. It fascinated him, nearly everything he knew about her was second hand. She was deadly, brutally so. He had seen her wicked blood-splattered grin in battle. There was joy in it for her, at the very least satisfaction, and yet she stood now, looking at a hobbit with pity in her eyes.

The combination made him wonder.

"We should speak." She turned to him in surprise. "Of Dol Guldur. It is near my homeland. I've seen its dark towers and the evil that lurks behind its walls. I would, very much, like to help my kin as much as I am able." His tone was quietly reflective.

"Meet me at the Three Legged Mare." Assertive and direct, she had no qualm about taking control of a situation. She suffered no one, King or Prince be damned. Station mattered little to nothing to her. Intelligence and strength...these were qualities she embodied and respected in her companions.

He nodded his agreement. Pleasantly surprised, she wouldn't have to do much prying. She looked forward to their meeting. She had plenty of questions of her own.

"You can ask Berta to bring you up. I'll be working through the night. Come whenever you can."

"Until then." Those blue eyes cut into her. He had a habit of making her feel watched even when she knew he was looking. He dismissed himself by simply turning his attention to the hobbit who still struggled to strap his belongings together. There was no embarrassment on Pippin's part as he easily let Legolas rearrange his belongings. The gesture was friendly, familiar.

It was Gandalf she turned to next.

"I had hoped to have more time to prepare you." Gandalf said quietly as he did much the same as Pippin but with more exacting and practiced hands. "Your task is now as crucial as ours. The fate of our world lies in our hands. You mustn't doubt yourself…" He said easily as he slung his satchel across his body.

"Your instincts are perfectly honed, listen to them and take comfort in them. The Lady of the wood is powerful. You would do well to watch your step with her." Galadriel wouldn't take kindly to the darkness that lurked in Natasha and that the heart and eyes of her steadfast March Warden had been turned to her despite it.

Galadriel could be her greatest ally, but she would demand transparency. She would want to see her past, her present and her future. Before they were done Natasha would be stripped bare of her secrets. It would be the only way forward to Dol Guldur. The corruption and dark magic that lurked there would put her at risk to Sauron. She would be vulnerable if Galadriel could not clean the darkness from her. Sauron had sunk his claws into her already, into her sleep. Gandalf had felt his presence more than once since he'd met Natasha. A lingering smudge of darkness. But Nat was strong both physically and mentally. She would be a much bigger challenge.

Sauron would be aiming for her now that she'd defied him. She'd slaughtered his army, beheaded his minion, and laughed in the face of his power. She would not align herself with him willingly, but he was not above taking her by force as he almost had with the scepter.

"It will be done." She said, one way or another she'd do her part to bring Sauron down and free this place of his evil.

With great care, he turned his robe outward and from its side produced a carefully wrapped bundle. She could feel its energy now that it had emerged from the unnatural security of his robes. The weight of the world was yet again in her hands but this time it was a shared burden. Halfway across Middle Earth a Hobbit carried a similar burden. She at least had the benefit of decades of training. She was battle-hardened. She'd made her living at war.

"Good luck to you, Natasha Romanoff."

Nat took the small stone in hand, its burden much heavier than its insignificant size. Their eyes locked as he released it fully into her palm.

"And to you."

She hoped their plans would give them the chance they needed to win.

Nat parted ways with the company and traveled the corridors to where she knew Eowyn's office and the library was located.

Gandalf, unwilling to waste more time, would make his way to Gondor with all haste, dragging a rather hesitant hobbit behind him. As was his typical style, he masked his guidance behind vague words. He had given her very little sage advice as he so often did with others. The lack of which spoke louder and clearer than any long-winded speech could have. Gandalf knew she would fight for them with every tool and resource she could muster. He trusted her with this task, more than she trusted herself.

Eowyn's office door was propped open. The jamb had yet to be repaired and sported the splinters from where Nat had kicked it in. She wasn't surprised to find it empty and cold. The only light filtered down from the high windows cast the room in a cool white glow. Eowyn's desk had been returned to its previous state, pre-Nat tossing it. The splintered chair had also been removed. The burn left in its wake however stained the floor with a chard angry smudge.

She turned her gaze to the books. She recalled their titles by memory and pulled the old texts from their shelves. History, geography, flora and fauna, anything that could prove useful. She'd read everything she could and scan anything she couldn't into her suit for later reference or audible while she rode to Lothlorien. It would make for a good base and enough information to prepare her for a briefing when she met with the March Warden again.

And meet again they would.

This time she would be more prepared for the onslaught of their connection. She could push down what she felt for him. She wasn't some inexperienced girl. She could and would control it. Even now she could feel it, feel him in the nagging pull on her mind, in her gut, that turned her thoughts to him in the quiet moments when she couldn't otherwise occupy them. She could almost ignore it entirely if she kept herself focused. Almost.

She occupied her itching fingers and made for the desk. She plucked the quill and ink from its well and carefully scratched a note to Eowyn referencing the texts and titles she had borrowed to take to the inn. She nearly laughed at the end result of barely legible text. She had no skill with this method of calligraphy. Nat hesitated at the bottom of the simple note. So much blank space that she didn't have the words to fill. Nat would leave tomorrow and they would very likely never see each other again. Never one for 'goodbyes', she hadn't a clue what to say to the woman. And yet here she was hesitating over adding parting words for a woman she had only just begun to know. It was surprising, she thought, that Nat found herself wanting to know her at all.

Nat snatched up one more piece of parchment and scratched a quick goodbye to the Rohir she'd grown to consider her friends. She would have no time to search them out before she left. There was simply too much to be done and the late afternoon was already upon her.

It turned into a simple farewell and best wishes. A thank you for their kindness to her and all they had shared. It was the best she could do. She would have much rather left without saying anything at all.

Settled, she scratched her parting words into the bottom of the page and blew across the ink until it dried.

Nat hefted her stack of texts into her arms and tucked them under her chin for balance. She scanned the room one last time as she left.

There was work to be done.