*************
Sam glared at the Nazgul, brown eyes slitted and hobbit sword drawn.
He couldn't figure out why they were just standing there, silent, or why
they hadn't tried to get to Mister Frodo and the Ring. There were orcs
too, not too many, but the fact that they didn't attack was more frightening
than their presence. No matter what the explanation was, he was prepared.
He had placed himself in front of Frodo, ready to protect him with his
life if the need arose.
The rest of the Fellowship was grouped around him, all their weapons
drawn. Gimli was growling what sounded like a dwarf prayer under his breath,
and sweat had broken out on Legolas' marble brow. The rest of the entrance
hall was filled with seemingly every fey warrior that lived in Siobhangé,
and all of them were tense and solemn. Hundreds of knives had been drawn,
arrows were put to bows, and axes gleamed in the noon day sun coming through
the windows, but the
Ringwraiths were merely silent. It was more frightening than their
screams.
Sam was suddenly conscious of a soft murmur behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the crowd part right beside him. Kerra came into view, followed by Anemosi, who was as far away from the shivering, frightened woman he had seen at lunch as she could be. She walked with her head held high and her eyes blazing, every inch the Lady Radika. The crowd immediately closed ranks behind her, creating a wall of bodies to put between Anemosi and the wraiths if it should come to a battle. Sam was on her right side, and Kerra stood at her left, radiating pure malevolence towards the Nazgul.
Anemosi gazed at the Nazgul for a moment, then let her clear voice ring out through the hall.
"Slaves of the Dark Lord, you have no business here. Go on your way. You have done us enough damage already. Do not think us unprepared to fight." Beside her, Kerra let out a growl that made the skin on Sam's neck crawl.
The foremost wraith spoke. "We have come for you, Lady Radika, and the Ring. The Dark Lord is most desirous of your presence."
She raised an eyebrow. "He desires my company? Then why does he not claim me himself? Is he still afraid of the Power of the Lady?"
The Ringwraith hissed at her. Sam jumped and Kerra tensed in readiness for a leap, but Anemosi remained calm.
"Foolish faery! You are no match for the Dark Lord. Do not jest!"
Her eyes flashed, and Sam felt her gathering something unknown
and subtle from the air around them. "Never accuse me of jesting, you slave
of the One Ring.
The Lady Radika never jests." Her hands had begun to show her agitation,
Sam noticed, as he saw them weaving in and out of each other in a subtle
pattern of delicate fingers.
The Ringwraith seemed to laugh, and everyone in the room was reminded of a childhood fear that had paralyzed them in their youth.
"You are nothing! Give yourself over."
Anemosi spat in its face. With a roar, the closest orc sprang at her, and the purpose of the movement of her hands was revealed. Her hands flashed out, and a net of angry light flew towards the orc, binding it within its confines as it constricted upon its helpless victim. In seconds the orc had been completely drained of fluid, and lay shuddering on the ground as it died.
Anemosi glared at the Ringwraith. Sweat had broken out on her brow, and Kerra realized that part of the reason why the Nazgul had not attacked was because Anemosi was blocking them from moving. Her powers, however great, would not hold for much longer. Killing the orc had taken a great deal out of her, and the breaking point was drawing near.
"Leave now," Anemosi snarled through gritted teeth. An instant later, a voice that had not been heard before hissed something under its breath, and her head rocked back as if she had been slapped. Her eyes were large and fearful as she recovered; the corner of one eye was slowly leaking silver-tinted blood.
Tehr, Lord Radik, stepped over the blackened, twitching corpse of the orc and came to stand before his daughter.
"Lady Radika," he said, his voice lacking all its previous warmth and charm. He smiled at her with teeth sharpened into points and reddened with blood. Anemosi shuddered, and her hand unconsciously searched out Sam's. She clung to it with a death grip, trying to draw what strength she could from her devoted gardener to steady herself in the face of such horror.
She met her father's eyes, and every creature in the hall fell silent as they became conscious of a battle going on between the two. Lord Radik was so severely changed from the witty, urbane host that had greeted them just days before that he was unrecognizable. His eyes were vacant, the pupils dilated to the point of obscuring the iris, and every vein was visible through his skin. The hideous smile lurked around his mouth as he surveyed his daughter, who stood shivering before him, her chest rising and falling as she tried to breathe steadily.
He was inside her head! He was tearing apart her thoughts...oh Sweet Lady, how could she escape this? He knew all...he knew about Sam! Terror gripped her as she felt her father pulling out of her mind with satisfaction. He had found a way to attack her. She was powerless to stop him; his very gaze had frozen her where she stood.
Lord Radik's gaze flickered from Anemosi to Sam, who still gripped her hand tightly in the vague help of supporting her. Tehr laughed low under his breath.
"Stupid little hobbit! Do you really think that you can protect her?" Tehr's face was mocking and hard, the laugh still falling lightly from his lips.
Gandalf realized instantly that the Lord Radik was taunting Sam, trying to provoke him into a fight he could not hope to win. He tried to reach the hobbit before he was killed, but a single glance from the wraith-controlled fey king was enough to pin him to the ground.
Tehr snickered. Kerra, tested beyond her endurance at seeing Anemosi suffering under her father's abuse, lashed out with her twin swords, but one of the wraiths knocked her to the floor in a spatter of blood. The claws of its gauntlets had gouged her cheek deeply, and the blood drained down her face and pooled in the hollows of her collarbone. She groaned once, and lay still. Anemosi cried out and tried to go to Kerra, but her father punched her in the solar plexus, making her retch and double over in agony.
Sam snapped. With a roar to rival the Horn of Gondor, he stabbed at Lord Radik, knowing even as he swung out that he had no chance of even touching the possessed fey.
"Fool of a halfling!" Lord Radik smashed his hand into Sam's chest, sending the gardener flying backwards. Sam struck a wall, his head cracking against the marble with a resounding crack, and he fell to the ground in a fog of pain.
"Sam!" Anemosi screamed. She was powerless to move, the combined power of the Ring and her father weakening her beyond endurance. She tried to pull away, tried to reach him, but her father locked his hands around her neck and squeezed.
"You will die just as your lover will, my dear," he hissed into her face, flecks of red spit hitting her in the face. "You will die knowing that the Dark Lord cannot be defeated. The Quest of the Ring is over."
Tehr jerked his head in Frodo's direction, who stood helplessly clutching both his sword and the Ring. "Take it, and kill the halfling and his friends. This one," he smiled mercilessly at his daughter, "is mine." He took one hand away from her throat to gesture to the gathered fey warriors. "These...things are yours to with what you will." He smiled at the orcs, who had left off their lethargy and were now jabbering loudly in anticipation of death.
*We are doomed,* thought Gandalf dully. *Iaka was right...we are undone.*
Anemosi's gaze was going black, but she could see the Nazgul extending a metal hand out to Frodo. Time seemed to congeal, to freeze, and she felt the Power stir in her as it had before. In an instant, the influence of the Ring and her father's polluted magic was thrown away, and she was pure in the presence of the Lady. She was free from her father's control, and it was time to act. She looked her father straight in the eyes and smiled a smile just as horrific as his own.
"Dearest father, you have forgotten one small thing. The Ring is poison to the Lady, but she has no fear of its slaves. And neither do I!" She smashed her fist straight up into her father's face, loosening his hold in time for her to whirl around and try to fight her way to Frodo as the Nazgul drew close to the stricken hobbit.
The battle had begun in earnest. The fey, freed from the malevolent power of the Nazgul and their corrupted lord, could now fight back with deadly force. Two races of astonishing viciousness, the fey and the orcs, clashed together in a battle of sickening violence. Blood was spilled in copious amounts, splashing out over the once-pristine floor of the hall. Never before had such evil come to Siobhangé, and the fey would defend their home until the last warrior fell.
A recovered Kerra was a terror, a wild and furious whirlwind of blades and sharp teeth. Legolas caught a glimpse of her leaping upon an orc that threatened Anemosi and tearing its belly open with her bare hands. Hardened as he was by war, the sight of Kerra with entrails and black blood covering her hands was sickening. Even more terrifying was the expression on her face; she was enjoying what she was doing.
In her fight to get to Frodo, Anemosi was destroying the orcs in whatever way she could. When one leapt in front of her, brandishing twin serrated blades, she merely slammed her hand to its head and blew its brain out its ears with a hissed word. She had no time to spare for the protocol of battle; the Ringbearer was in need.
She reached him just as Merry and Pippin were tossed aside as they tried to protect Frodo. Even filled as she was by the Power of the Lady, she still felt the potency of the Ring as she came with reach of its siren call. It hit her like a blow. She shuddered, and in that moment, as her eyes closed, Sam's mind cleared. In that timeless instant, from where he lay, he could see Lord Radik coming around Frodo, raising a black sword high above his head in readiness to kill the Ringbearer.
"Frodo!" Sam bellowed. Anemosi jerked back into awareness, and she saw the descending of the blade. There was only one course of action for her to take. She slammed into Frodo and took the blade herself.
"No!" Sam screamed, as he saw Anemosi falling, pierced through the heart. Frodo watched, paralyzed, as she gasped, clutching the hilt of the blade that had stabbed her straight through. Every fey in that room felt the pain as if it had been themselves that had been stabbed. Time had stopped for everyone, good or evil, and in the silence Sam let out a choked scream that was the cry of a creature that had lost its heart. "Anemosi, NO!"
Her eyes had closed, and she could feel her entire being coalescing around the pain in her chest. *Farewell, my beloved gardener,* she thought as her body began the countdown into oblivion. *I must leave you now.*
*No.* A new voice was echoing in her head, pure, clear, and not to be disobeyed. *You will not fail me now, my Lady Radika. Your service to me is just beginning. Rid my people of this evil.* It was the voice of the Lady herself.
Anemosi's eyes flashed open. Her pain was erased, and her gaze was clear and full of purpose. Sam watched in amazement as her body seemed to leap into flame.
"Lord Radik, do you really think you can destroy me, when you are but a slave to the Ring, and I am forever?" Her voice was layered, textured like never before; the voice of every Lady Radika before her and every Lady Radika yet to come was echoing through her. The Lady Radika was now and forever. It was enough to make a man's heart burst.
She clutched the hilt of the sword, and slowly pulled it out of her chest. She stood, her body seeming to burn from the inside with an unearthly flame, and she exhaled in a gust of wind. The air rippled, much as it had that long-ago day that she had healed Sam and Merry, and when the room returned to normal, she was healed and radiant. For one tiny instant and one emotionless eternity, she in every time and place at once, all powerful, all-knowing, and totally vulnerable. As she turned to face the Nazgul, they could see the reflections of each Lady Radika pulsing through Anemosi's mortal flesh. The body may have been weak, but the spirit was always the same.
The servants of the Dark Lord watched in terror as she turned her gaze upon them. She was beyond terrible now, no longer the frail and beautiful princess that had tried to defy Sauron. She was more than the Lady Radika, the avatar of the Lady of the Fey; she was the Lady herself for that brief instant. She raised her arms above her head, singing a low, hovering song that nevertheless was more deadly than a thousand daggers. She was both clothed and naked, both moving and still...she was everywhere and forever...and in his fortress of Barad-Dur, for a heartbeat, the Dark Lord himself felt a flash of fear from an enemy long thought forgotten.
Strengthened beyond measure for one last defense, the fey warriors gathered themselves together and prepared to attack. Before the battle could resume, the door to the entrance hall flew open, and the fey warriors from the other cities, just arrived, poured in, hundreds upon hundreds, and the orcs had no hope of victory. They ran, some escaping as others were cut down by the new arrivals. Lord Radik readied himself for one last attack upon Frodo, but one look at his daughter, blazing with an ancient silver fire, was enough to change his mind. Glaring at her with as much hate as he had once had love for her, Lord Radik spat at his daughter's feet, where it pocked the floor like acid.
"Useless whore! I will return for you!" He raised his arms into the air and disappeared in a wind that smelled of decay and putresence. The Nazgul vanished in the same way, leaving nothing but broken fey and orc bodies behind them.
Sam heaved himself to his feet and ran to Anemosi's side, embracing her tightly as she shuddered and gathered her power within herself once more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kerra turn away with an agonized look on her face, but his immediate thoughts were only for Anemosi and Frodo. She felt as impermanent as the dust on rose petals, and just as fleeting. he clutched her tightly, feeling her grow more solid as she condensed, and became once more his beloved Anemosi. A low, sad thrum briefly caught his attention, and Sam slowly surveyed the great hall of the House of Radiké.
The fey warriors were gathering up the bodies of their fallen comrades, whispering words of an ancient prayer to ease them on their journey to the Lady. The bodies of the orcs were disposed of much less kindly, carried out to be burned far away out of sight of the palace.
The Fellowship had gone through the nightmare ordeal with only a few superficial injuries, which were swiftly taken care of by Drake and his healers. The fey healers were too few to be able to care for all that were injured, but they struggled to care for all that were in need of their services.
Out of the Fellowship, Sam was the worst hurt, with a stiff
neck and badly bruised back incurred in his defense of Anemosi. They clung
together, knowing that the storm had just broken over their heads, and
that the worst was yet to come.
Still clinging to Sam's hand, Anemosi turned to the fey warriors gathered
in the hall. "My beloved people!" she cried out, her voice ringing up to
the rafters. "The Power of the Lady is strong with us! We shall be prepared
for the final battle. We will survive. We will not yield!"
The cry of joy that came from the fey was deafening. Anemosi had united
all the great fey cities in those few words, and for the rest of time,
songs were sung of her strength and faith in both the Lady and her people.
But those songs were not yet written, and she had much ahead of her before
the final battle could be won.
She turned to Kerra, and grasped her most beloved friend's hand in
hers. "Dearest Kerra, we have work to do. You have proven yourself more
worthy than I can ever hope to deserve. I will defend you with my life,
if need be." Kerra nodded, her heart too full for words.
Anemosi turned again to Sam, whose eyes were full of love and pride
and devotion...much the same as hers were. They were tied to the fate of
the Ring, the two lovers, and nothing could move them from their part in
the quest...or from each other. Though the true battle had not yet begun,
they would face it together, for better or worse. Love, after all, was
the one thing that tied the forces of good together against the darkness.