Hi everyone. So if you're new to this story then welcome, if you are have read the previous version then welcome back. Following the 20th anniversary of the release of the Fellowship of the Ring I decided to overhaul and rewrite this story. I felt that the previous version was not as good as it could have been and I have had many new ideas since then. Each chapter will feature a small flashback at the start to hopefully give you a bit more insight into my character. I cannot promise regular updates as I am kept pretty busy, but I hope to update at least once a month if I can, and hopefully I'll actually finish the story this time. I love any feedback you have and I hope you enjoy this new version.

Anything written in BOLD is Black/Orc Speech and anything in ITALICS is Elvish.
Of course I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of it's associated media.

Flashback

The small elf girl screamed in pain as white-hot pain seared through her body. Her hands were bound to a post behind her. None of the creatures around her laid a finger or weapon upon her and yet her body burned as if she were on fire. A sorcerer in the service of the Dark Lord stood to the side, a cruel smile on his face. 'She'll no longer know who she was before this moment.' He chuckled coldly. 'She'll no longer know who she was, or who her family is.'
'He shall be pleased.' Another replied.

The snarling of wargs and shouting of orcs filled the air. Tension swirled around like a mist as they awaited the arrival of their commander. High atop one of the towers sat a lone elf. Once upon a time she'd been the heir of a great elven lord, now Aica served as the personal assassin of the Dark Lord, Sauron. Her hair was as black as ebony and her grey eyes were so dark they were almost black.
She was carefully running a whetstone along one of her blades as if she were preparing for battle.
Many of the orcs were used to her presence and so paid her no mind, but others, those from the North and the goblins of the mines, were not so sure. They cast wary glances in her direction, their hands twitching towards their weapons as if they expected her to start slaying them all.
A cruel wind blew through the ruined fortress of Dol Guldur. Dead leaves from dead trees fluttered across the dirty stone. Dust and dirt was lifted from the tops of walls and tossed into the air, falling to the ground like ash from a high fire.

The sound of stomping feet announced the arrival of the orc commander. A towering being, far larger than most of his kind, he commanded fear and respect from his fellows.
Aica slid her blade back into its sheath at her waist and leaned forward as the commander reached the broken precipice at the centre of the fortress.
An even colder, crueller gust of wind blew through of the old fortress and a dark shadow, in the shape of a large man, appeared in the gap before the drop. 'Is everything ready?' A deep voice rumbled. 'Are your forces prepared?'
'Yes, my master.' The commander growled, bowing slightly at the waist. 'The dwarves will not survive for much longer.'
'Good, see that they don't. The mountain shall become a staging point for a greater war.'
A soft noise, the rustle of fabric against dead leaves, had Aica immediately on edge. A snarl came from the shadow. 'We are not alone. Take your men and go. Fulfil your task.' The commander hurried off to lead his army to the Dwarven kingdom of Erebor. Attention was then shifted to Aica. 'Investigate, but do not engage. It is not yet time for you to be revealed. Pull back if you must. It is time for us to leave this place. Ride to the North. I shall be returning to my lands in due course.'

Aica's footsteps were silent as she traversed the ruins with ease. She'd spent many years within these ruins, so she was intimately familiar with them. She knew every nook and cranny, every entry and exit, every hiding spot and every walkway. She paid attention to every small noise, every rustle of leaves, every breath of wind.
She followed the whisper of fabric and finally came upon a small company of elves and wizards cautiously picking their way through the fortress. They were talking softly in the elven tongue. Aica followed on silent feet. Not all of the company were visibly armed, but she could feel the magic that rolled off them, like mist off a mountain.
Abruptly the company stopped. 'We are not alone.' One of them, a dark-haired male elf, spoke up. 'There is someone, or something, here. I can feel it.'
'It could be the Necromancer.' Another spoke, this one was no elf but had the appearance and bearing of an elderly man. He held a staff in his hand. 'But this presence feels like something different.'
Aica froze, barely breathing, lest she be discovered. 'I feel it too.' Another elf spoke in an ethereal voice. This elf was the only female amongst the company. 'It is a presence I have not felt for many years. It feels just as we first felt it all that time ago. He is here.'

A sudden great gust of wind blew through the fortress, kicking up leaves, and forcing the company to take cover until it had passed. Aica heard His voice within the wind, providing her with new orders. She was to leave the sanctuary of Dol Guldur, taking a group of warg-riders with her. They were to follow in the wake of the Orc army to Erebor. They were to observe only. They were not to involve themselves in the battle that was to come.

Legolas sheathed his blades. The battle was over. They'd managed to drive back the orcs, goblins and wargs that had attacked Erebor. They'd lost many, as had the men and dwarves. Including the dwarven king, Thorin. He wandered the battlefield, looking for any survivors. As he searched he happened to glance to one of the hilltops that wreathed Dale. He was startled to see a group of warg-riders take off towards the South. He quickly found a horse and gave chase. Any who escaped would be sure to return and report to their master.
He managed to follow for several miles before he got an even bigger surprise. The warg-riders slowed their pace and met up with a rider mounted on a big black horse. The rider was clothed entirely in black, hooded and with a mask over the lower half of their face. Upon their back was a quiver and powerful bow. Legolas kept himself hidden within a copse of trees as the warg-riders stopped. He was close enough that he could hear them talking, but he did not know what they were saying, they were talking in the Black Speech of Mordor. Though he could not understand them he was able to make out their voices, and was shocked to hear that the horse rider was clearly female. After a short conversation the group once again started South, but the female lingered for a moment, looking towards him.

Aica's eyes scanned the trees carefully. She was sure she'd seen movement within them. The warg-riders had come from Erebor to report that the battle had been lost. Aica had not made it to the battle. She'd been occupied with investigating whether the dragon, Smaug, was actually dead. The news had come after they left Dol Guldur and Aica had wanted to confirm it.
Her horse snorted gently beneath her, bringing her back to the present. One of the warg-riders called out to her. She took one last look over the copse of trees, but seeing no more movement she turned her horse South and urged him into a gallop, riding towards Mordor.

Legolas watched the rider follow the wargs. He was curious how a female, who was clearly not of orc or goblin kind, had come into service beside them.
Neither of them had no idea how much they would come to learn about each other, or how important they would become to the other.

Chapter Notes

Aica is Quenya for Dire. I chose not to change her name as I thought it still fitted her.
I deliberately left much of this part ambiguous. This is merely setting up the story and I didn't want to distract from that.
While this story is going to mostly be set within the universe of the movies I will be including people, places and situations from the books that I feel will fit into this story.