Hello all! I've been so delayed the past few weeks! I'm trying like heck to get this story back rolling but I've had some writer's block the last month or so. I'm still six chapters ahead of publishing but it's not enough! I'm hoping my creativity will bloom again soon. In the meantime, enjoy the continuation of the second part of my first FF. Thank you to all the new followers, favs, and of course a massive thank you to my reviewers. You guys mean the world to me and I enjoy so much the thought of all of you also enjoying my work! Thank you! xoxoxo

Wulfric sat in a secluded booth in the back of the Three Legged Mare, alone, drinking a pint. It was an uneventful night, the revelry from days ago had passed and quiet sobriety had taken over Rohan. There was a paused tension in the air, a prolonged static charge before the lightning bolt of war struck again. The people were on edge as they waited for the beacons to flare across the mountain tops, a signal to all in Rohan that Gondor required aid. That day was fast approaching. Everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before their loved ones; brothers, fathers, and sons would march off again to battle. What they had suffered was only a taste of what was to come. This was a battle that would determine the fate of their country and likely all free peoples that habited Middle Earth but from where Wulfric was sitting the scales were tipping slowly in their favor. The tide was changing. The world was shifting, powers aligning in ways they hadn't for centuries. The great peoples of Middle Earth were coming together, fighting for one another as they would their own. Elves had come to the aid of man on their own behest and as he sat drinking his pint Natasha was in the heart of the golden splendor of Lothlorien on an endeavor to destroy Dol Guldur and protect an infinity stone. Two hobbits traveling on foot were venturing to Mordor to destroy the ring and with it the evil stain of Sauron. The victory at Helms Deep had proven well enough that the kingdoms of men were not as weak as Sauron had once believed. His ally in Isengard was defeated. Saruman's deadly weapon, secured; his powers, bound.

While the future remained uncertain he could be sure that the right people were in the right places. Their strongest players, clever and unpredictable, had their missions, had their purpose, and Wulfric, well he was sitting in a tavern drinking a pint and waiting.

He worried, but how could he not when so much and so many were at risk. Wulfric had spent a long time, too long, in the shadows. He was nothing more than a legend to most and an out-of-practice counselor to what was left of the royal house of Rohan. He'd neglected the people and the politics that went with it as he much preferred his own company and the solitude living in the wilds provided.

"Do you want another?" Eric asked, a pitcher of ale in hand as he made the rounds. He was a good man, strange and eccentric, but a good man. He could see why his uncle Thor had liked him and why Nat was so adamant about protecting him.

"One more before I go." He offered up his coin and his pint. Grinning in a friendly fashion, Eric took the coin and filled his cup. He was doing well here with Berta, working day in and day out at the pub kept him focused. Every day the man seemed to regain the brilliant mind he'd nearly completely lost. At Eric's back, the tavern door opened just enough for a slip of a woman to slide in. The rich fur-lined hood of her cloak covered most of her face but for a small tuft of blonde hair from the end of her braid. She was a woman of wealth, her cloak and boots said that plainly enough even if she were trying to disguise herself with them.

She walked softly up the bar to where Berta stood serving two other patrons.

Eric put the refilled pint glass on the table but Wulfric paid him no mind. He was fascinated by the female of worth who had entered the grubby pub.

From beneath her fine cloak, she produced a book. Her hands were young and her nails were clean and well kept. Her voice was soft enough that he couldn't hear what she said over the half-filled tavern noise but he saw Berta turn her head to listen. The tavern keeper's face went stony, an alarming reaction considering the warmth it generally held. Berta's reply was short and snapped down her visitor's spine like a whip. The woman went rigid as Berta walked away clearly annoyed. In a move that read clearly of desperation, the woman slid down the bar following her.

He caught the begging tone of a desperate 'please', to which Berta shrugged and shook her head. The woman's shoulders slumped and she tucked her book back under her cloak. When she turned Wulfric caught a glimpse of her face. She was lovely and pale as a lily, her eyes were dark and shadowed but sharp enough that they caught his stare. The women of Rohan were bolder and less mild-mannered than Gondorians but he was still surprised when she stopped mid-step to shoot him a hard-eyed glare. The new angle brought her more into focus. He'd seen her before but couldn't think as to where.

He stood to his full height and she darted out of the tavern.

Intrigued, Wulfric went to the bar top to where Berta was standing watching the door swing closed behind the woman.

"Is everything alright Berta?"

Berta slapped her rag down on the bar top in frustration.

"Deorhild, strange child that one. She's been in here three days in a row lookin' for our Natalie but she's done run off to war just like I specifically told her not to and I told her, I did, that I didn't know when Natalie was comin' back because she didn't say but she just doesn't listen, neither of them do." Hands on her hips she huffed out a breath. "It's no wonder I never had children of my own. Who needs them with the company I keep? And then the poor, crazed thing that she is, her husband turns up dead down by the docks, not such a loss really. He was an awful sort, beatin' on her the way he did. He got what he deserved if you ask me?" Wulfric shook his head and held up his hand in a desperate attempt to stop Berta's rambling.

"What does she want with Natasha?"

"I haven't asked, it's no business of mine, she just keeps bringing in that book...I assumed she borrowed it and wanted to return the thing but when I told her I'd be happy to store it until our Natalie returned she refused."

"She refused?" Natasha had very little to her name the odds that the woman had borrowed something from her were slim. Considering Natasha's otherworldly situation he also doubted she would let anything she possessed out of her hands.

"She refused she did, acted as if I'd asked her for her firstborn." Berta was offended now, put off and put out by Deorhild's attitude. If she'd known Natalie had intended on getting into the mix of things with those ladies she would have tried to steer her clear. "It's that damn woman Ingrid...she's always been a terrible influence on Deor even when they were children and now that she's running that...that...house of ill repute...she's...well she's simply distasteful. I didn't say nothin' to her, our Natalie, when she came in smellin' like that place the other morning... as it's her business I suppose but I'd hate to see Ingrid get her claws into Natalie's hide like she did poor Deor's."

Wulfric could have laughed, Berta was worried the owner of a whore house would be a poor influence on Natasha. Were they even talking about the same person? Berta might have been averse to prying into Natasha's business but Wulfric wasn't. He wanted to trust her, had worked himself into it more than once but the woman had a habit of keeping too much to herself, and that made him more than a little uncomfortable. She was in a precarious position and a crucial one.

"If Deorhild comes by again let me know. I'll pay her a visit myself. If it's important I can reach Natasha."

"Is she coming back?" Berta hated to see the suspicion in his eyes and knew she'd put it there. Berta bit back her tongue mildly regretting the emotional tangent she'd gone on, but she'd been feeling as well done and brittle as overcooked bacon. She shouldn't have brought any of it up to him. It was no concern of his, not really, but he knew Natalie as well as she did and Berta felt more comfortable talking to him about the private redhead. Natalie had done a great many things for Berta, for the people of Rohan, Eowyn, and many others. Berta had no doubt that if Wulfric tracked down Deor the woman would crack open like a walnut about all that had happened, and when Wulfric confirmed Berta's suspicions of Deor's husband's death, she hoped he'd look the other way.

"I don't know. She has a better chance than most." It was dangerous and for most others, it would have been a death sentence but Natasha had been chosen because she had the best chance of success.

Berta blew out a deep breath. "Good...that's good. She's a good person our Natalie. She doesn't think she is and she's as lonely as they come but at the heart of her...she's good." Berta believed that down to the core of her. She'd had her reservations about the woman at first. There was danger in Natalie's eyes but she had too often been kind for those doubts to keep hold.

Berta only hoped Wulfric felt the same.

Natasha paced over the rug, her earpiece was tucked tightly in place, the other half was on Haldir's person. She couldn't understand a damn thing they were saying in the meeting but that hadn't been the point of having him wearing the earpiece. She'd sent him with her suit and the onboard computer with the intention of showing the officers the value of her tech when it came to battle plans and scouting. She wanted to run the mission. This was why she had come to Lothlorien and she'd use every tool she had at her disposal to save it. It had taken all of the time she'd had with Haldir to smooth her idea over with him.

"It's solid Haldir. A small team, four tops." She pulled up the three-dimensional map she'd loaded into her suit and spun the detailed rendition in the air. "We split up, here, here, and here." She pointed to the spots she thought were the weakest. "Gather intel on their resources, take them high from the hillside here, and then me, I'll be ground level. Get in as close as I can and get a detailed scan, body counts, concentrations, weaponry. I don't want them to know how close we've gotten. If they get clued into us they might move the payload of mage fire, and then what little hope we had is shot to hell. If for some reason, the opportunity is there and they've left their biggest weapon unprotected, or poorly protected, I will take it. If there's a possibility I can ignite the mage fire while I'm there, free and clear, I'll do it."

He didn't like the idea of sending her in but knew she was highly capable. His mind and his heart tugged him in opposite directions. He had the power and authority to keep her safe, keep her out of the situation altogether but he trusted her as much, if not more than himself. And in this matter, he knew she had superior comprehension and experience despite her age.

Haldir ran a hand over his stubborn jaw. "How long would you need?"

She zoomed the map out and tracked the distance. "Exacts are hard. We don't know what we'll run into along the way. Your patrols have seen increased attacks along the border; I've seen the maps. If you plot a course from here to there, avoiding the projections from the border attacks to Dul Guldur, it's a long way around but we will be better off avoiding crossing into those paths. If we can ride on horseback to here." She plotted the course and marked it with a small x. "And go on foot the rest of the way, give us say...three hours minimum recon, five if it's quiet. We could be there and back in three and a half days." If she pushed it...hard.

It could work, he knew it could and likely would. Once they knew more about their enemy they would be able to form an appropriate counterattack and defense. Already his plans were underway but his people were too few. They needed every advantage they could conjure. He knew she wanted to use their mage fire against the enemy but it was a suicide mission. There was no good way to ignite it without sacrificing someone's life. He'd be damned if she thought it would be hers.

"Are you hesitating because the idea is poor or because it's me?"

He bit back his frustration. She had a way of cutting straight to the meat of him. He was bare to her now in ways more intimate than the physical. There would be no hiding from each other or themselves. She didn't deserve his doubt or his fears.

"For obvious personal reasons I don't want you to go but there are few others I would find that are more capable. I trust you will do this as carefully as it can be done." Haldir met her eyes, turned hard and bright with something he couldn't name but felt deep in his heart. Somehow this incredible creature had willingly agreed to allow his courtship. His female. His warrior. "I'll leave it up to the council but you'll have my vote."

He was running the meeting now. His voice was the most prominent amongst the lilting accents in the room. He officiated with authority and kept their meeting paced with a steady consistent roll. There was something about listening to a man, her man, effortlessly command a room that made her attraction to him bloom hot in her blood. She could imagine him in his element, authoritative and direct. He slipped into authority as if he were born to it. There was power there too, an ability to decisively make judgments and control his environment. The quality looked appealing on him even at Helm's Deep. It took to the strong lines of his face by sitting heavy on the hardline of his jaw and crisp line of his cheek. She only wished she could be there to watch him now as all of the masculine power unfolded. Briefly, she wondered if he was that authoritative in private. She let the heat from the thought wash over her, indulged in the brief image of him pressed against her, every powerful inch of him pushing her to mold, to give, to his hardness.

His voice stalled in her ear com and he cleared his throat loudly and unexpectedly.

She smiled guiltily, "Sorry." She wasn't. "You're incredibly sexy right now."

There was a long pregnant pause before he picked up his speech pattern. She bit her lip. Would she never have an explicit blood spiking thought without him feeling it too? The thought both terrified and aroused her.

With half an ear she listened as the meeting continued and sorted through the notes Eric had given her before she had left Rohan. The writing on the pages didn't line up and instead overlapped at random corners and angles and in more than one direction. It was as if he'd laid them all out in a jumble and simply began writing and scribbling over the top. Words, lines, symbols, some she could read others she would have to take the time to translate.

What were you up to Eric? She thought as she began to make notes on the separate piece of paper and worked her way through the mathematical formulas as best she could without the assistance of her uniform's computer. Energy conversion, light refraction, she understood the basic principles at least enough to recognize the mathematical formulas but the why and the how these things would come together was lost to her.

Haldir's voice, this time in accented English came through her earpiece as he engaged the computer system.

"Username: Silver Fox, engage voice control."

"Username: Silver Fox, verified, command confirmed." The polite voice of her onboard computer responded.

She grinned. Programming in his own code and username had been well worth the amusement of just this moment. While the name was a fitting description of the elf with his moonlit hair, and his clever mind; it was also her own humorous play on his age and immortal good looks.

Black Widow. Silver Fox.

He'd thought nothing of it and she had barely contained her humor.

"Please display the most recent three-dimension rendering and navigational course to Dul Guldur."

"Initializing."

He waited in silence for a blink of a moment while the image loaded. She could practically hear the room leaning forward in their seats.

The quiet majesty of their voices rose together. Their collective tones were tense with disbelief and curious wonder. She remembered the look on Haldir's face in Isengard when she'd first showed it to him, she imagined that same look was on a variety of faces in that room. If he had questions on how to operate her tech, she was here for him to ask, but so far his attentiveness to her demonstration was paying off. That quick and clever mind of his ticked right along even when the concepts were completely alien to him. He was a quick study with an eye for observation she thoroughly admired. He would have made an excellent field agent. With the right training and some further experience in tech, he'd be impeccable. Silent. Deadly. Haldir however did not have the gift of blending into a crowd with any amount of ease. Modern times may have made for more diversity but it wouldn't keep a face like Haldir's from leaving an unforgettable impression on a passing stranger.

She turned to the side and fell back into the couch, holding one of the pages at arm's length she studied it. How and what was she going to do with this? Somewhere in this garble, Eric had tried to communicate an idea. All she had to do was find it. Nat didn't think she could detonate the mage fire without being close enough to get blown sky-high herself unfortunately she wouldn't know the exact answer to that until she saw its precise location. It was unfortunate she'd had to destroy her window bites at Helm's Deep but they'd served their purpose as remote detonators with alarming success. But what was she left to work with now? Her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, two energy guns, and some frustration at her lack of resources.

There had been a time where she could have had any tool and any tech, regardless of the cost, at her disposal. Those days were likely long gone and time was running short for her to find a better solution.

The evening sun began to descend along the horizon. Its light set the canopy outside her window ablaze in metallic glory. Lothlorien was a wondrous thing, its people too. There were moments, like now, when she realized how incredibly strange her life had gotten. Which was saying a significant amount considering her history. If someone would have told her a year ago that she would planet jump to a new world that was stuck in the middle ages and creatures like dwarves, hobbits, wizards, and elves were fighting a war against a dark sorcerer, that she'd be right smack in the middle of it; she might have believed it but she couldn't have imagined it, imagined this.

A wedge of light cascaded through the branches and straight into her eyes. Blinded, she moved the papers in front of her face to block the incoming light. Blinking away the bright spots, she refocused on Eric's notes. The papers were nearly transparent in the light, but the strong black ink of his penmanship was clear through the layers. So clear in fact the overlap from multiple pages nearly formed shapes. She shifted and shuffled the papers, watched as lines merged and crossed.

She sat straight up.

"Son of a bitch." She cursed quietly and went to the window to hold the papers up to the light. A shoulder, legs, she shifted the kaleidoscope of papers until an image began to form. "Son of a fucking bitch!" A wide smile lit her face.

"Natasha?" Haldir asked, he stood from his chair at her tone. She was well from the feel of it but there was an insistent feeling of urgent curiosity that gave him a jolt. "What's happening."

She laughed, "Eric, you crazy, brilliant, old man!"

He nearly winced at her volume through the earpiece. Eric. What had Eric found that would strike her so intensely? When he'd left her she'd intended on reviewing the notes the old man had accumulated in his studies during his captivity and while he had healed in Rohan. Haldir hadn't thought much of the task as Eric's mental capacity had been so tremendously damaged. Haldir had doubted she'd find much at all in his ramblings even given his lifetime of studies and first-hand experience with the stone and its capabilities.

Surely he hadn't… Haldir's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

"Natasha! What is it? What have you found?" The elderly man couldn't have. He had said it was impossible. She had said it was impossible. He couldn't even stomach the thought that Eric had discovered how to use the stone and its housing to return them to their homeworld. Even as he thought it, he hated himself for his selfishness.

She put a hand to her hair and brushed it back. "Eric...he started to disassemble my suit. He stripped the wiring from the entire body and made a...harness of some kind for the stone." She struggled to read the handwriting for a moment. "He's trying to interrupt the electrical and light fields that are encasing the stone with the power pack to my gun, the wiring from my suit…and" She studied the shapes. Could it really be that simple? "Some concave mirrors."

Essentially he'd made a small intense beam of light and a moderate electrical pulse to interrupt the magnetic fields surrounding the stone. The power was virtually nonexistent, minuscule on a level she hadn't even thought about but it would be just enough to cause a tiny blip in the shield, that according to Eric's hypothesis, would reverberate and cause the casing to essentially disintegrate. Severing the connection between the stone, its housing, and the power that sustained it, would make it nearly impossible to track. The radiation that spiked from its case would minimize the long-term risks of where and how they could hide it. Freeing the stone from its more immediately dangerous casing was a step in the right direction for them in terms of concealing it but now, without the protection of its casing, the stone could be more easily wielded. It could be harnessed now without the risk of radiation.

"Haldir." Nat said slowly as his concern eased in her mind. She dropped the papers to her side and stared out the window at the golden leaves and elegant talans nestled in the trees. There was power here, ancient and immortal. "If we take the casing off the stone...could Galadriel wield it as Saruman tried to?" She wasn't mortal nor human. Her chances of handling its magic were high given her existing powers. Galadriel was already gifted in telepathy and other magics of the mind. If she could use it, amplify it...Nat knew exactly how to destroy Dol Guldur.

There was a long moment of silence in which Natasha knew Haldir was contemplating her request. She could feel his hope and his anxiety at the thought of Lady Galadriel wielding something so dangerous. She was powerful, ancient, and wise but she was not infallible.

When next he spoke it was in his own tongue. He addressed Lady Galadriel at their common table. In the wake of his words, there was silence. No one dared speak, not even Lord Celeborn who for all of a single moment looked as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Haldir sympathetically imagined his horror at the thought of his female taking on such a task, such a risk, and knowing that if it were possible she would be the one to successfully wield it.

"It's very possible but to what purpose would we risk this?"

Nat heard Galadriel through the ear com and the echo of her voice as she reached out mentally. 'What madness have you conjured for us, Agent Romanoff?'

Natasha settled on the windowsill and held the drawings back up to the light and told them.