BOOK ONE:
A MAN OF THE WILD
Chapter Four:
Wraith and Fire
It took a day and a half for the little company to reach Weathertop. Brianna's boots were worn useless by then. Her heals hurt, back itched, and everything about her person smelled of something foul. It wasn't just her, which made the stink worse. All of them reeked of the swamp and the added smell of unwashed male offended her sense of smell. As they trekked higher into the hills, Brianna considered cutting a rune into her wrist to lessen her sense of smell to that of a human's, but decided it wouldn't help. She would bear the stench until they came across a river or stream to bathe in. In any case, she wasn't particularly inclined to mutilate her body just because she and the men smelled ripe.
They climbed to the top of the hill. Brianna felt a chill crawl up her spine. Before them loomed a wide ring of ancient stone-work, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. There was a time when the place harbored a tall watchtower, but the circular walls were no longer connected and only nine dilapidated pillars remained. It reminded her a little too much of Stonehenge and the fell power that crackled in the air the night The Morrighan worked her dark magic.
Almost unconscious of the motion Brianna gripped her elbows with opposite hands to keep her body from giving into the need to shake. The moment she let herself break it would be over for her and any confidence she would have gained with Strider and his hobbits would be lost. She blinked and breathed.
*I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain, she thought and smiled.
It spoke of how much time she invested in reading fantasy and science fiction novels that she had Herbert's Litany Against Fear memorized. When she'd first came across it in Dune two decades after its publication, Brianna found herself drawn to the words over everything else. On multiple occasions, she sat and re-read the work to study the theme surrounding the litany. The exercise was cathartic and helped her overcome much of the shade of her past more than any other trick she'd tried. In recent days when Artemis convinced Brianna that her presence during a hunt was necessary, the litany was recited. As the uncertainty of her situation threatened to overwhelm her, Brianna drew what little comfort from it she could.
With more effort than she would have liked to admit Brianna took stock of the surrounding monoliths and their land. In the center of the circle was the remnant of a fire. Curious she crossed the short distance and knelt by the ashes and burnt stone. As quick as a thought, she dabbed her right forefinger and middle finger into the ashes and slipped them into her mouth. She cocked her head to one side and considered the tale they told.
"This fire is about a week or two old. It hasn't lost all of its carbon components quite yet," she said.
They stared at her. Brianna's brows furrowed then her eyes settled on her fingers. She cast her eyes to the sky.
"I'm not explaining Carbon. It would take too long and a doctorate in chemistry which I don't have," she said.
"You… put ashes in your mouth," Sam remarked weakly.
"I'm an elf and a huntress. My tastebuds are in a class of their own," Brianna said primly.
Sam rolled his eyes and muttered "still disgusting! Don't know where its been" under his breath. Brianna grinned, eyes gleaming, and caught Frodo's eye. The hobbit's lips were pressed into a thin line with barely concealed laughter brightening his eyes. Directly behind them walked the mutually relieved Merry and Pippin and an expressionless Strider.
"Well, here we are!" said Merry who seemed to think it best to change the subject. "And very cheerless and uninviting it looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf."
Brianna returned her attention to the dead fire and silently inspected the ground around it. People who sat around warm places typically left clues of their presence. She hoped Gandalf was one of them. While the men spoke and worried she found what she was looking for: a stone with runic markings on it. She cocked her head to one side and inspected it. The rune looked like it came from a nordic village, pre-Roman era, long before their written language resembled anything coherent.
But I can't read it, so clearly it's one of theirs, she thought.
"Does this mean anything to you, Strider?" She asked and held out her hand with the stone nestled in her palm.
Interrupted from whatever he pondered, Strider bent down and gently brushed his fingers against her skin as he took the stone. Brianna tried very hard not to notice exactly how callused his fingers were and watched him study the bloody thing. She fought the urge to flush as a wave of pleasure shuddered through her.
By the Triune, what's wrong with me? She wondered.
Wordlessly, Brianna watched the man study the runed stone. Upon further inspection he almost looked worse than she or the hobbits in regards to the damage the swamp did to his appearance. Despite the dirt, the grime, and the decidedly ripe smell his eyes still held a certain intensity that was almost attractive. It was a ridiculous thought seeing as there was very little she should be attracted to in regards to this ranger, but have it she did. She shook her head and forced her mind to both clear and forget that any sort of positive thought about him crossed her mind.
"The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches," said Strider. "It could be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean something quite different, and have nothing to do with us."
"Are there more Rangers than you, Strider?" Brianna asked sweetly.
"Yes," he replied and left it at that.
She stood and began to inspect the circumference of their camp ground. There wasn't a stitch of magic in the air, yet something felt off. She frowned and glanced at the sky. Strider had said earlier while they were climbing to Weathertop that some of the birds were on Sauron's side. She heard the hobbits meander around while her windsense stretched into the beyond. What was it? Someone had to be watching them somewhere.
"What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?" asked Merry.
"I should say," answered Strider, "that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary."
To the southwest she felt the mass of darkness and the disturbance of hooves on a dirt road. The dust of Arda shuddered and the land beneath cried out to her in response to her presence in the wind. The need to fight in the earth overcame her with such ferocity Brianna opened her eyes with a gasp and stumbled a few paces. Once she regained her composure she noticed the men were quiet.
"What was that?" Strider asked though she likened it more to a growl.
Brianna ignored him and turned in the direction of the road. From her vantage point she had a perfect view of the land below and spied five shapes on black horses. They rode toward each other: two together and three others separately galloping from the east to meet them.
"We're not making camp here," she said softly, "Those black riders you mentioned are in the area and may have already seen us."
But, that wasn't the only thing the wind warned me about. Not entirely, she thought.
At once Strider flung himself on the ground behind the ruined circle, pulling Frodo down beside him. Merry threw himself alongside. Sam and Pippin stayed low by the far pillars. Brianna frowned, but moved with them and settled herself on the other side of Strider while he looked over the tall grass.
"The enemy is here," he said in a tone Brianna suspected to be bitterness, but wasn't quite certain.
"I gathered. What are we going to do about it?" She hissed.
He looked at her and she raised one eyebrow. Strider slid away from the pillar and crawled low towards the other side of the hill back the way they came. Brianna's eyes narrowed and she guessed what he was considering.
"There is a hollow at the base of the hill. We will rest there tonight," he said.
She huffed and grabbed his arm as gently as she could despite feeling incredibly pissed at him. Even so, Strider started and turned to meet her anger with his own hard expression. Brianna held her ground.
"That is possibly the worst idea I've ever heard," she snapped quietly.
"Do you have a better one?" He asked.
Brianna didn't respond immediately. She did, in fact, but the consequences of that idea meant giving up her identity as a wielder of the elements. She didn't want to reveal it.
"Evidently not or I would have suggested it by now," she hissed.
"Then we go to the hollow and wait out the enemy," Strider said with a finality that left no room for argument.
Sam and Pippin had already disappeared over the hill before them. Strider rose into a crouch before slipping around one of the stone pillars only to vanish a moment later. Merry followed soon after at full height. Hobbits were easier to miss than they as their kind didn't seem to grow beyond three foot five. Frodo didn't move from his place at the edge of their pillar. Instead he gazed at her, thoughtful.
"You lied to Strider. You do have a plan," he guessed.
Well fuck! Why aren't they oblivious like everyone else! She thought.
"It probably wasn't a good one," she said admitted.
For a moment Brianna feared Frodo would press the matter further. Instead, he stood and traveled to the edge of hill top. In a moment he sank temporarily beyond her sight. Truly alone for the first time in days Brianna elected to remain sitting for a while. The Riders were still some ways off and she didn't think they would arrive ten minutes after spotting the bastards. Besides, spending time alone was quite appealing. She needed that moment to reflect and consider her position in its entirety.
I'm alone in a strange world with a man who's so suspicious of me one wrong move might get me killed and four short men who have varying degrees of naïveté, she thought. And now we're being followed by dark riders and, possibly, something else that I can't place. It would be so much easier to protect them with magic, but if I try to do that I'll probably alienate Strider. I don't want that. If I alienate him then I'll do so to the others. I need their trust before I protect them with magic, but I might not have a choice in the matter.
She crawled to the edge of the hill and craned her neck to get a glimpse over. Strider was outside the hollow. A slight tilt of his head gave her enough of a view to determine that something was troubling him.
Good. Something isn't right. He needs to be worried, she thought.
The Morrighan ripped open a pathway to Arda. In the end it didn't matter what the bloody servants of some half-alive Demi-God were looking for. What mattered was why the half sister of Ba'al needed to enter a world oppressed by dark magic and lived in fear of every shadow in the land. If there was anything she learned in her long years of fighting her enemies it was they were far too calculated in their plans to make misguided mistakes. The Morrighan had known what she'd pushed Brianna through. She'd known about the world Brianna would end up in. She'd known, in part, about who was on the other side.
The last gift for her brother, she thought, would be my ruin. Though what that means I can't say.
With that thought she slid onto the slope and allowed her body to creep close to the ground a minute before standing straight to meet Strider at the bottom.
"I know few people who are actually good at brooding. You certainly out-brood them all."
Strider didn't start from his reverie. He'd heard her feet disturb the earth as she slid those few paces down the hill before walking the rest of the way.
"Sam and Pippin discovered some troubling clues on our campsite," he informed her.
Brianna stepped beside him and clasped her hands behind her back and asked, "Is it Gandalf, rangers, or something else?"
"I am… unsure."
His lips pressed into a thin line as he looked out to the expansive hills. In the distance he saw the marshes spread out before them. At the edge of the marshes was green flat land that grew into a grey-green terrain as the land rose gradually into rolling hills. They were high hills now, great and looming, and grew higher the more west one traveled.
"At least the hollow faces the direction we want to go," she said.
He rewarded her with a wry smile in answer. It was strange. He didn't trust her and yet he did like her. If anything could be said about this strange elf claiming to be from another world it was her charm. It was magnetic in a way he couldn't quite explain. If she wasn't from Arda then he could forgive her of it. If she proved false; however, the only conclusion he could come to was she was of the enemy.
Then there was the matter of magic. Strider knew she could use it. That display on the top of the hill confirmed that suspicion, though he had no idea how she was able to do what she did. Elves in Arda did have the use of magic, but it was a weak grasp at best and no where near the talent of wizards. Brianna Davis, it seemed, could use magic in the way of the Istari. She hasn't seen the Riders first. She'd sensed them somehow and Strider didn't know the origin of her power. For all he knew, it could stem from something evil. It didn't seem so, but the enemy was a mastermind in lies and manipulation and could have planted her in their midst to trick them.
The ring doesn't like her, he considered, she may be trustworthy.
Strider glanced at her. Brianna's dirt streaked face watched him with guarded teal eyes. His heart skipped a beat and he looked away from her before his own expression betrayed him.
"We found what seems to be the boot prints of a man, but I fear they appear armored. If such is the case we might face the enemy whether we wish to or not," he admitted.
She hummed in response, but didn't reply. Aragorn stole a glance her way once more and observed the concentrated tilt of her brow and the brief flash of haunting pain in her eyes. A painful memory, he guessed, and one frequently brought forth during their journey if he was any judge.
"It's my experience running typically prolongs the inevitable. We're going to have to deal with them eventually," she said.
There was a note of bitterness in her tone. He hadn't met many elf women or spoke with many for a prolonged period of time. He only knew one on a personal level and their friendship was strained. Yet, he had never known them to be bitter. Indifferent, yes, depending on their age, but never bitter.
"Forgive me for asking, Miss Brianna, but how old are you?" He asked.
She turned to him and the bitterness in her expression was replaced by a sad smile as she replied, "One hundred and sixty nine years as of February of this current year. At least, so it would be if we were on Earth."
She's not yet two hundred years? He wondered.
A dead weight settled in his stomach. He knew from Arwen and Lord Elrond that elf ladies rarely left their homes before the age of two hundred. The ones who elected to learn the art of war lingered many years longer to better hone their skill in combat. Those who elected to learn healing, art, or music sometimes never left.
What made Brianna Davis different?
"When did you first see battle?" He asked.
Her smile faded and a haunted expression replaced it. Strider swallowed. Such an expression unsettled him and he found he preferred her teasing smiles and bell-like laughter.
"I was sixty-five years old. I was many years yet from adulthood, but my team and I… we wanted to fight, pushed for it, and got what I deserved. I was sixty-nine when I had to take lives as an act of mercy. I set the bastard on fire who was responsible," her final words were blunt, bitten out, and aggressive. "I burned him and his wife and his lieutenant. Human history labels their deaths as suicide. It wasn't. It was judgment."
She smiled. Strider fought back a shiver. He wasn't cold, but the look in her eyes was the steel of an old rage and hurt that long haunted her. One hundred years…
He swallowed, finding it hard to breathe, but he couldn't shrink away. Once again her eyes of vibrant teal drew him in. Strider let them.
"Why did you feel the need to enact such a… wrathful punishment?" He asked softly.
Her haunted expression returned, "I have a few regrets in my life, but what I regret the most is my inability to help the children who felt the hand of my mercy."
Horrified, he gaped at her.
"They were… children?" He asked.
Strider didn't know whether he was horrified for her or of her. To be in a position where the kindest thing to do would be to end the life of a child shook him. Of the many horrors he'd faced in war, such an act of "mercy" was something he'd never needed to gift.
"Yes," she whispered and closed her eyes.
"What happened?" He asked.
When her teal eyes opened again they burned with a hatred unparalleled by many. Strider was taken aback. It wasn't the first time he'd seen such an expression on an elf's face. Legolas held a similar expression when speaking of orcs, but hers bordered on loathing.
"They took them, turned them into mindless creatures and mutilated their bodies into something that wasn't even human anymore!" She spat and turned to him. "I don't know this enemy of yours, but if his crimes are of a similar nature he will rue his very existence!"
Strider, for the first time since meeting her, firmly believed her heart free of evil.
"I believe you," he said voice barely above a whisper.
Brianna's eyes contracted and brows raised. He smiled despite her grim revelation. It was nice to leave her dumbfounded after being left thrown by her for the past several days. Because he did believe her. She was no threat to them. More importantly he knew now, for certain, she would protect Frodo and the hobbits.
"That was… you don't…" she stammered.
"I've witnessed the horrors of two wars, Miss Davis, and I know the damage evil can wrought. I know what it's like to make the difficult decisions in regards to the lives of the innocents affected," he said, "You no longer need explain yourself."
Her eyes shimmered and Brianna abruptly turned away from him to face the direction of the southern road. He heard her breathe a barely audible whisper - probably a curse - with an accompanying sniff. When she turned around to face him she'd regained composure.
He held out his hand.
"Come, we should take shelter before the night comes," Strider offered gently.
**Brianna looked at his hand and he wondered if she would refuse it. To his surprise, she slipped her smaller hand into his large palm. A flush dusted across her cheeks and her eyes grew dark before her expression gave way to one of unease. For Strider's part, the touch of her soft fingers caused his heart to quicken.
This is nothing more than a passing fancy towards the first interaction I've had with a woman for many months. Nothing more, he thought.
He led her into the hollow. The hobbits had already built a fire and Sam set up the cooking pot. The soup smelled appetizing, but there wasn't much in it. Much of their supplies had been eaten by the addition of Brianna though she attempted to keep to one or two light meals a day. He could, and would, hunt if needed.
Brianna sat next to Pippin and was drawn into a conversation about this thing called 'chemistry' which involved…. His brow furrowed as he tried to coherently piece together her halting explanation. The study of interacting elemental compounds in their varying states? He didn't understand what she meant though he suspected Gandalf might. He chose not to worry overmuch on the strangeness of her world and nestled himself comfortably in the back of the hollow. The Riders were some ways off and likely wouldn't be in the area for another hour. He could afford a moment of rest.
The night came and the air grew cold. Strider, used to such conditions, remained sitting with only his cloak about him. The hobbits unloaded their warmer cloaks and blankets from their packs. Frodo offered one to Brianna, but she shook her head and remained close to the fire.
"Tell us more about Gil-Galad," Merry implored after a lull in the conversation took root like a weed.
"I'm fascinated by it," Brianna said, "especially as the lay you were chanting sounded a bit more historical than fictional."
Strider chuckled, "It is certainly history for it concerns our quest greatly. However, the name of the Evil One and his stronghold is spoken. I think it may be best we defer to a later date. I do not wish to attract what hunts us."
Sam looked to Brianna, "You're an elf and elves sing. What songs do you know?"
Strider looked to her curiously. He hadn't heard a melody pass her lips, true, and maybe that had to do with the tragedy of her past. Instead of looking forlorn; however, Brianna flushed red and began chewing on her lip.
"I… well… my people. We have songs. I know a bit, but I know more songs written by humans. Some of them have been influenced by our language, verse and rhyme. Likewise, they influences ours," she explained.
Frodo leaned forward, "Well have at it, then! Sing for us."
All of them watched Brianna as she squirmed in her seat. Strider tried very hard not to grin at her expense.
Despite her evident embarrassment she regained her composure and began to sing:
***Don't shed a tear for me
I stand alone
This path of destiny
Is all my own
Once in the hands of fate
There is no choice
An echo on the wind
You'll hear my voice
Some choose to fall behind
Some choose to lead
Some choose a golden path
Laden with greed
But it's the noble heart
That makes you strong
And in that heart, I'm with you all along
The olde village lanterne
Is calling me onward
Leading wherever I roam
The olde village lanterne
A light in the dark
Bringing me closer to home...
So when you think of me
Do so with pride
Honor and bravery
Ruled by my side
And in your memory
I will remain
I will forever be within the flame
Now at the journey's end
We've traveled far
And all we have to show
Are battle scars
But in the love we shared
We will transcend
And in that love, our journey never ends
("Village Lanterne" by Blackmore's Night from their album, The Village Lanterne)
Strider grinned along with the hobbits. Brianna, for her part, turned an endearing shade of red and drew her legs up to her chest so she could bury her face in her knees and arms.
"That wasn't so bad," said Merry. "In fact I think you have a nice, pleasant voice Miss Brianna."
"Thank you Merry," she said as her head lifted from its nest. "That's very kind of you."
Strider wondered at her modesty. Her voice was beautiful with the way it controlled itself to fit the mood of the song.
She doesn't quite appreciate how beautiful her voice is, he thought. Is this a result of Earth's culture?
"Do all elves sound lovely when they sing?" Pippin asked.
Brianna blushed again and mumbled, "I learned how to sing from a very fine soprano. Unfortunately, the purpose of my tutelage was to make my voice sound like it had potential so I could hunt for a delusional vampire in an opera house. He, also, tutored me and helped me learn how to bring finesse and control to my song. Then I drove a stake through his heart and cut off his head."
"Why?" Pippin asked.
She chuckled, "The thing was a vampire - that's a creature existing between life and death and takes the blood of the living to survive - and it was eating sopranos." She frowned and looked off into a dark corner of their little cave. "It wasn't a pleasant experience."
"How so?" Asked Frodo.
She grimaced, "Vampires, when hunting, have the ability to place a sort of… spell over their victims to make them more amenable to eating. Elves should be immune to this, but several decades before I was born a…" she paused a moment before continuing, "… certain individuals decided to make vampires that could prey on elves. One of our hunters was a victim of this and dealt with the side effects of such a change. This vampire was a successful result of this experiment and had been released into the world shortly before my comrade and his fellow inmates were liberated. I was an arrogant idiot and fell prey to the allure. My comrade had to rescue me from it."
She blushed and abruptly changed the subject.
"Alright, Strider, you avoided singing so far. It's your turn. What do you have to offer?" She asked coyly.
He sat back in his place at the back of the hollow, "I will tell you the tale of Tinúviel," said Strider, "in brief –for it is a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts."
He was silent for some time, and then he began not to speak but to chant softly:
"The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her Elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless."
(*Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring*)
He caught Brianna's look as his song faded into the night. She seemed pale as the moon and her skin glowed underneath the grime coating her unwashed body. Something about his song must have shaken her.
"What is it?" He asked.
Her eyes were glazed over and Strider observed the journey her mind went through to grab memories long hidden in the back of her mind, "I… know of Beren and Luthien. I read it… in my professor's old journals from the years she learned to step between worlds. The things she saw, the people she met, the histories she recorded: The war between Mor-," he cut her off.
"No! Don't say the name!" He snapped.
This seemed to jolt her from the trance of memory and Brianna inclined her head. The glow dimmed a bit to a shimmer that reflected the flickering light of their fire.
"Continue, Strider," she said in a tone that was decidedly steady.
Confused by what shook her composure Strider returned his attention to the hobbits who watched the exchange with rapt interest. He closed his eyes and recalled history. The two who ultimately began his lineage and allowed for all of their descendants to choose a long life or a short mortal one.
"That is a song," he said, "in the mode that is called ann-thennath among the Elves, but is hard to render in our Common Speech, and this is but a rough echo of it. It tells of the meeting of Beren son of Barahir and Lúthien Tinúviel. Beren was a mortal man, but Lúthien was the daughter of Thingol, a King of Elves upon Middle-earth when the world was young; and she was the fairest maiden that has ever been among all the children of this world. As the stars above the mists of the Northern lands was her loveliness, and in her face was a shining light. In those days the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North, and the Elves of the West coming back to Middle-earth made war upon him to regain the Silmarils which he had stolen; and the fathers of Men aided the Elves. But the Enemy was victorious and Barahir was slain, and Beren escaping through great peril came over the Mountains of Terror into the hidden Kingdom of Thingol in the forest of Neldoreth. There he beheld Lúthien singing and dancing in a glade beside the enchanted river Esgalduin; and he named her Tinúviel, that is Nightingale in the language of old. Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and they were parted long. Tinúviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy from his throne, and took from his iron crown one of the three Silmarils, brightest of all jewels, to be the bride-price of Lúthien to Thingol her father. Yet at the last Beren was slain by the Wolf that came from the gates of Angband, and he died in the arms of Tinúviel. But she chose mortality, and to die from the world, so that she might follow him; and it is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and after a brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed, long ago, beyond the confines of this world. So it is that Lúthien Tinúviel alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left the world, and they have lost her whom they most loved. But from her the lineage of the Elf-lords of old descended among Men. There live still those of whom Lúthien was the foremother, and it is said that her line shall never fail. Elrond of Rivendell is of that Kin. For of Beren and Lúthien was born Dior, Thingol's heir; and of him Elwing the White whom Eärendil wedded, he that sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril upon his brow. And of Eärendil came the Kings of Númenor, that is Westernesse."
He found Brianna looking at him again, this time with a calculating gaze as if she was solving a riddle. Her brows rose and pink lips parted as she leaned forward, but her head jerked to the hollow's entrance. Teal eyes narrowed and Strider followed her gaze saw only night. She flicked her hand and a single longsword appeared in her hand and stood. He blinked. Where had that come from?
Strider beckoned to the hobbits and motioned to the fire, "Grab hold of the longest sticks and be prepared for whatever enters!"
He looked at her. Brianna's gaze was fixed upon the opening. Her sword was thin but long and made to for someone who was slight to face someone armored or not. It could block all but the strongest made swords and had the reach and a thin enough point to skewer.
"Is it the Riders?" He asked.
"Yes," she confirmed, voice strained.
And what else? He wondered but didn't have the heart to ask.
The hobbits were already uneasy. Merry and Pippin huddled on the ground unable to face whatever approached. Something entered. It wasn't a rider nor was it a friend. It was an elf, or something Strider believed was an elf. This elf wasn't one he'd ever seen before. A sinister air grew around its manner. His skin was different shades of sapphire and obsidian. What struck him most were the eyes that gazed at them with a cruel grin like a pair of blood rubies.
"Erebus," Brianna said, voice cold, and smiled.
Strider felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He had seen elves, -naturally good natured creatures - turn into cold, calculating killers. Brianna was on a notch higher. The presence she gave was unbridled and feral body strung taught like a cat preparing to spring. She was a huntress and there, in front of her, was her prey.
"I'm happy you still remember me, Doctor," the elf said.
His voice was sinister. A chill crept around Strider's heart and he calmly switched the long stick into his left hand and placed his other on the hilt of his sword. Whatever this elf was, whatever sorcery he possessed, it was evil. Figures of shadow, tall and terrible, looked behind Erebus. Strider counter five and heard three of the hobbits whimper.
Slowly he stood and stepped around the fire to place himself the opposite side of Brianna. She didn't look at him, but Strider didn't doubt that she knew he was there.
"Haven't heard that title in a while. Typically I evolve from elf-bitch to oh-please-don't-kill-me," Brianna quipped.
By the stars, why is she taunting this creature? Strider wondered.
"You'll find I don't beg so easily," Erebus replied, voice as smooth as silk.
A grin spread across her lips as the elf stepped further into their little cave. Unnatural red hair hovered around the base of his neck and whipped through their air as he shook his head. Erebus smirked.
"I'm happy to test that theory," she replied.
"And I, a willing test subject."
She snorted, "And me without my test tubes and Bunsen burner."
"Isn't that more your teammate's purview?" He asked casually.
Miss Davis shrugged, "I dabble."
Erebus struck, charging her with an obsidian bladed sword raised above his head. Brianna blocked his obsidian blade and pushed him away and out into the wilderness beyond. She followed as her blade burst into flames.
The Black Riders surged into the hollow. Two passed him and Strider engaged three of them ferociously swinging his sword and his flaming stick. In the confusion Strider though he heard Frodo cry out, but he couldn't be certain.
What he was certain about was that he could light them on fire which is what he did. The wraiths screamed and dashed away from the group. He turned on the remaining to and hit them with the fire. They were already distracted, though by what Strider didn't know. The Riders slipped away back into the night smoldering and burning.
Brianna's battle wasn't finished. It escalated to a display of magic. Fire bathed the side of a hill in bright gold-orange light. Strider looked on in awe at the way her mud-crusted clothes shimmered along with her flames as she wove their lethal dance. Dark magic raged toward her and Brianna raised an arm devoid of flames. A disc of light stopped the darkness and her fire streamed toward her assailant.
****The expression in her eyes startled him. No rage, joy, or sorrow. Only grim calculation as if the only thing she cared about was seeking the most efficient way to burn this Erebus character to a crisp. Strider blinked as a pair of bright eyes - blue like the sky - came to mind. Yes, the arch of her brow in such careful concentration? He'd seen the same expression on only one person in his acquaintance.
It can't be possible, he thought as he looked on in wonder.
*****The elf – Strider supposed it was an elf though he was reluctant to call it as such – fought her magic with a burning black substance he couldn't identify. The black met her fire and pushed against it. Brianna's jaw clenched and the volume of her fire increased. Heat pulsed through the air and Strider coughed as breathing it burned his lungs. Teal eyes glanced at him and Brianna's previous expression broke into once of concern then fear. Strider shook his head while he attempted to regain his breath.
Don't stop! He thought desperately. Don't be distracted!
His silent pleas went unheard.
Resolve sparked in her eyes and she glared at the elf. Brianna broke her attack and rushed into both fire and darkness. Strider's heart leapt into his throat as black and orange flame wrapped her in their embrace. The elf stilled his assault, visibly stunned, and stepped away from his dissipating magic just as the edge of her knife burst from the black and narrowly missed slitting his throat. Brianna followed a moment later. Her fist collided with the elf's nose. A sickening crunch met Strider's ears a moment later. She twisted her knife and thrust toward the elf's ribs. He grabbed her arm - stopping her assault - and pulled her toward him while twisting her wrist. While her knife tumbled into the grass, Brianna used that momentum to knock the top of her head into his chin. The enemy staggered backwards as she flipped out of his weakened. A kick to the elf's chest followed shortly after and sent him to the ground. To Strider's astonishment, Brianna jumped toward the elf and shoved her knee into his chest. What she'd intended to do, he never found out, because the elf rolled to his feet before her knee connected, slipped behind her and grabbed the base of her shoulder and neck.
Burning darkness pooled in the palm of his hand.
Strider felt his heart thunder in his chest as he lifted his sword and charged. The elf laughed and shoved Brianna to the ground and parried Strider's swing with a shield of darkness. Quickly, he changed tactics and ducked away from the following explosion of black magic. He whirled, faster than he'd ever dared before, and swung for he elf's neck. This Erebus character looked surprised at the move. Burning darkness surged toward him. Strider dropped to the ground and rolled under the blast. He angled the point of his sword and thrust straight into the elf's stomach.
Erebus gaped at him as he fell to his knees.
"A human!" He exclaimed! "How?"
Strider didn't reply and moved to finish the blow, but the elf - through some dark sorcery of his own - melted into the shadows and vanished. Strider waited several minutes before he lowered his blade. An unsteady breath left him. Five of The Nine and a single strange elf steeped in sorcery. If he hadn't believed Brianna's earlier testimony, simply being in the presence of that… thing told enough of the story. The huntress was many things, but she didn't feel as foul as it did.
He looked for her and found Brianna sitting on the ground. Her teal eyes wide and mouth slightly open. When his eyes settled on her a blush dusted her cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she continued to gape at him as if she'd never seen him before.
"Are you hurt?" He asked.
She blinked and replied, "I'm fine."
He raised an eyebrow. Brianna stood before he could move to help her. The sudden movement caused her to sway. A few blinks later and she regained composure. The following smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You're an impressive man, Strider," she remarked.
He inclined his head and remarked, "You have magic."
"Yes, it's quite useful at times."
Brianna stepped forward and stumbled. Strider caught her shoulders and held her steady. At the "v" of her tunic, the exposed skin on her chest was covered in black spots.
"What is this?" He asked.
She blinked and glanced down at her collarbone, "A burn."
Strider thought about responding, but decided against it. Gently he helped her back into the hollow where the hobbits waited. He started. Frodo lay prone on the ground unmoving. With haste he moved towards the young hobbit. Brianna followed close behind and the two knelt down beside him. Strider inspected Frodo's unconscious body for wounds and immediately found one. Next to him Brianna hissed a sharp curse.
"That wound… where is the blood? There's barely any," she asked.
That symptom troubled Strider and he was thankful she noticed as well. He stood. Brianna didn't move, but she did look up at him, eyebrow raised.
"He needs to be kept warm," he ordered.
She glared, "I can do that, but Strider where -," He turned and left before she could finish.
There were times when listening to an argument was counterproductive.
And if that wound was made from what I suspect, Frodo doesn't need us to argue. He needs medicine, he thought.
*FOOTNOTES*
*I added a little bit of context here. In my earlier chapters, I was really into Dune and brushing up my knowledge of other classics in literature. To keep with that tradition, I'm expanding on this bit to keep my themes consistent.
**I realized I hadn't written the moment where they touched hands. While they've physically interacted before, the mode of this particular one is much different from the others. In later chapters, I had them muse the change in their relationship began at Weathertop. In the previous draft for this chapter, I hadn't conveyed the change in its fullness, so I went on ahead and put it in.
***I changed the song I used from Nil Se La by Celtic Women to Village Lanterne by Blackmore's Night. I did this because Nil Se La just didn't seem like the type of song one could solo in the wilderness. There's also the added fact that this song is quite lively. Considering the fact that, in this particular chapter, there's a concern the enemy is closing in on them, I can't think Brianna would actually sing something she couldn't keep quiet.
****This change is important for later chapters. I will keep silent on the reason for this change for new readers' benefit, but you who have visited this story before know the context.
*****While cleaning up this scene, I started expanding on it due to my general knowledge of martial arts increasing thanks to the Youtuber, Shadiversity. Those of you interested in medieval martial arts (and martial arts in general) go check him out. He's the best. :)