Back on the landing, the battle raged on. The two combatants had managed to create huge holes in the walls and ceiling as they fought, and the damage they had inflicted on each other was almost as devastating. Anemosi had ceased to think of her father as even alive, and was slashing out at her enemy like a creature possessed. Every drop of fury was squeezed from her system and was vented upon the minion of darkness that had corrupted her beloved father. No outside force could enter her sphere of being, no stimulus from the outside world hold her attention. She did not realize how the battle was affecting Sam until a cry in a voice better known than her own floated up the stairs, and she was distracted at the worst time possible.

"Sam!" she gasped, realizing that every move that she made was causing him to suffer below her. She didn't see the ball of furious ice coming at her as she moved unconsciously in the direction of the voice. The freezing sphere struck her in the chest and knocked her over like a sapling, and she lay gasping and wheezing for breath on the floor.

He had driven her back against a wall, and there seemed to be no escape. He was leaning in, his face looming large and hideous in her view. A vein was ticking in his neck and his breathing came thick and fast as he wrapped clammy hands around her throat. Lord Radik grinned at her shivering form, weak and prone before him.

"Say goodbye to all of this, Lady Radika," he hissed, triumph gleaming in his eyes. "Your Lady has failed you, and the Quest will fall to dust. You were not ready for the power of the Dark Lord." One cold hand slid down from her neck as the other held her fast against the wall in spite of her struggles.

Below, Sam's movements slowed and fell away into nothing, his breathing growing ragged and then dying away. Frodo gripped his hand, now grown cold, fear of the worst clouding his heart as he realized what was happening to his friend: as Anemosi weakened and failed, so did Sam.

Lord Radik's hand dove under the ruins of her dress, and came to rest upon the scar from his black sword. She moaned weakly as a deadly chill settled between her breasts. Lord Radik smiled as he felt her weakening under his power, and he pressed down upon her breastbone, trying to reach inside her subtle self and search out that place of power within her.

Sam moaned once, and his hands went limp in Frodo's as his eyes rolled back in his head. His breathing stopped totally, and he fell back in Aragorn's arms, lost to all.

Lord Radik had won. He was within her, a spirit buried inside that most precious place that hid all her secrets from view, from destruction, and he pulled...oh Lady, he was pulling her very will out of her! The very power that had saved her before was being ripped away like sheets away from a bed. She was falling, falling forever, curled around herself, and dropping like a leaf into the silent abyss, and there was nothing at the bottom, there was no bottom...

Her hand fell upon the enchanted dagger Tasla had used to distract Kerra. Hope, the eternal weed of the spirit's garden, sprang in her heart, and she locked his fist around the hilt. With the last of her vast strength, she pulled her heavy, heavy arm upward and sheathed the knife in what was left of her father's heart.

Time froze in a rushing of wind. She dragged the dagger downward, her entire being crying out against her act of defense, but this was the only way to survive.
His hands dropped away from her body and Lord Radik fell away from her to tumble like a bag of bones across the floor. There was a gaping hole in his chest, and she could see a diaphanous form moving within her father's body that evaporated in a brief gust of wind. She gasped as the light within him went out.

Below them, Aragorn heard Anemosi's small cry, and thinking the end had come, bent his head as tears came to his eyes. In his arms, however, Sam stirred and opened his eyes, now only large and brown. One victory over the darkness had been won.

*******************

Anemosi shrank against the wall, fearing another onslaught, but as her father tried to rise, blood, real, true blood, spilled out of his mouth in a river of death. He was shrinking, his flesh paling and his eyes warm and sad. She sobbed brokenly and crawled to his side just as the four who had waited on the stairs stumbled on to the landing.

Lord Radik was saved, but at a terrible price. Death was the only escape for a fey from the Dark Lord, and he was fading fast. The dagger jutted sickeningly from his stomach, but his eyes were loving as he reached out a shaking hand to his daughter.

"My dearest Anemosi..." His voice was gentle, free of the rougher tones that had plagued it while he had been controlled by hate. "Forgive me, my love...I could not fight it off, though I tried my hardest...I hurt you, though I love you...I have failed you all."

"No, no, father," Anemosi whispered. "It was not your fault." She cradled her father's hand in between her own, clutching it to her chest as tears washed tracks down through the blood and sweat on her face. "You cannot be blamed!"

Lord Radik's head fell back to the floor. "Master Samwise, come forward." His voice could barely be heard, but Anemosi beckoned Sam to come to her father's side to hear the last words. Sam knelt unsteadily on the floor, sickened by the blood spattered everywhere, but he bent his head to listen to the fading voice of the freed Lord Radik. The words were brief, but potent and not to be disobeyed.

"If you love her, Master Samwise, you must take her with you. They will take her if you do not keep her safe, and our people will fail...she is their life, the Lady Radika...they always have been..." His eyes closed, and just as Sam thought he was gone, a strong but battered hand closed around his wrist and drew him farther down, his pointed ear almost touching Lord Radik's bloody mouth.

"If you love her, you will do what I could not...you must save her. I love her, but I could not stop them...may you succeed where I could not." The hand dropped away, and his head turned to Anemosi. Lord Radik's hand lifted itself to Anemosi's cheek and touched it lightly, full of all a father's love and pride.

"Forgive me, my daughter, I must leave you now...thank you, thank for saving..." His voice dropped away, and he was gone. Tehr, Lord Radik of the Fey, was dead.