Hi y'all! I know, it's about time! It was getting ridiculous. But today is a holiday and I missed these characters. The next chapter is close to being done and so is the one for FMH, for those like Naruto.

You know what I wish: that they would publish a Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor/War guidebook. That would be awesome, and very helpful!

Sorry for the hold-up!

(Elanor)

A long stretch of time seemed to have passed from our endless wandering. Though always on the move, we remained on our guard. My hand would constantly move to the hilt of my knife from even the tiniest sound nearby, from the caw of a raven or the strangled croak of a toad in a shrub. The curve of my bow continued to nudge the back of my shoulders, as more of a comfort than a nuisance.

Father remained at constant vigilance, always keeping me close to his side. His jaw tense like his rest of him, shifting eyes narrowed like shards of blue ice piercing through the darkness.

Lately I have been wondering if he didn't nearly have as much difficulty seeing through the gloom as I did. Either it was from years of training and experience as a Ranger of the wilds, or perhaps it was the wraith who was granting him such a blessed vision, as it did for the tracking of unseen footprints.

All while presently using his body as a walking, talking vessel.

With the latter thought in mind, I couldn't help the sudden surge of envy that flared in my chest (for the night vision, not the possession).

The deeper we dwelled, the more difficult it became to distinguish between day and night in the land of Mordor. It had become even more so a region overshadowed by a sea of black clouds tinted with gray like flecks of ash and mold, reminding me more than ever the decaying wreckage from the massacre at the Black Gate. And yet, at the hour of noon (I believe), there was an occasional break of sunlight, momentary as sparks from a warm hearth before fading into tiny wisps of nothing.

But I could tell night had fallen. It was when the landscape grew even darker, until gray had faded, and seeing your own hands in front of your eyes became a challenge. That, and the air seemed to grow chillier, more foreboding, with the type of quiet briskness one can only taste in the night. Even in a polluted place such as this.

Even the Uruks would also use sources of light in certain places, though the kind that burns from the fires of their torches, giving off a flickering red and orange glow heated with lustful contempt. A lingering haze of man's blood surrounding their camps.

Apparently some orcs needed their light, however nocturnal their gaze.

I stumbled when my foot got caught on an unseen rock, but Father caught me by the cowl of my cloak and held me steady. Loose strands of hair carelessly brushed over my eyelashes from the motion before I quickly straightened, tucking them behind my ears in embarrassment.

"We should make camp for the night soon," he decided while pulling me close to his side before continuing. "I had not realized how much darker its gotten."

"By this hour, more fouler things will awake in the darkness to roam for the hunt," the wraith's voice spoke from the air with a chilling buzz. "More beasts means more Uruk-hai."

"No longer just mere scouts," Father agreed.

"But what about the Outcasts?" I asked, clinging on to my father's arm as my feet blindly struggled to match his stride across the dead grass, my eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom. "Wouldn't that be the only place we can truly be safe?"

"There are no 'safe' places in Mordor, child," the wraith's voice cut through the air sharply. "Not while inhabited with its fill of darkness and treachery. Not even the Black Gate, the legendary siege of Gondor, had served so much as a borderline of sanctuary. Not in the end."

I flinched. The memories…thoughts of Mother and Dirhael…the field of slaughtered Rangers…only mere days ago...pierced the wounds in my heart, his words twisting the knife within; my hand had flown on its own to Mother's sun-star pendant and grasped fiercely, throat tightening. Sensing this, Father tightened his hold on me in a one-armed hug.

"But what about Hirgon?" I dared to ask. The question was directed to my father, not the wraith. "He was your friend once, wasn't he? Surely we can trust him?"

There was a frown in his tone. "A friend who has willingly deserted his post and disappeared for ten years on enemy lands, who has walked among people that antagonize Gondor, our people, and who may be laying a trap for us once we locate their hideout." Father sighed. "There is no guarantee that Hirgon is trustworthy, Elanor, but he is the only source we have to finding the Black Hand. We have yet to determine whether he would willingly cooperate with our demands, but even more so from the Outcasts. There has always been bad blood between them and Gondor."

"But then he wouldn't have told us to find their camp if he didn't want to help us, right?" I argued stubbornly.

"But not without hesitation," he pointed out, "and one man's judgement doesn't always outvote the many. Not unless he is the leader. And since he would naturally be considered an outsider among them, it's very possible he may not have a say in his decision once we find them. They are not known for their honor, Elanor. Remember that. They are men of the wild, after all."

"Until determined otherwise, this will all be a political stalemate: enter enemy territory under the white flag and offer a truce. They break it, they die."

"That sounds about right," agreed Father.

A mutual agreement between two opposing individuals within a span of minutes? That was a start. I wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that, except how unsettling it sounded when they both spoke of killing so easily. So coldly. Especially when it wasn't orcs they were speaking of. A shudder crawled through my skin.

Hours had passed since we had last seen the creature Gollum. Though I wasn't complaining, not knowing his whereabouts put me on edge, more so than with the constant unseen lingering of the elf wraith inhabiting my father. In a span of two days (maybe three), I was probably growing more accustomed to his strange company...though it didn't mean I was any more comfortable with it.

Yet my adjustment to the wraith had become more curious, while highlighted with an even sharper edge of caution and suspicion, ever since Gollum addressed him as the "Bright Master."

I wondered who the wraith was, where he came from, and why he was using my father as his host. This emerald pendant I now wore was the only clue we had to go on, though for all I know there could be more out there.

But why was Gollum so intrigued by him? And how was he able to see him, or hear him…like I could?

TBC

Not an eventful chapter, but it's only the introduction scene leading to the next one, which I hope to update very soon! It will pay off, I assure you:)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!