************
Merrie, daughter of Kerra Ojona, paused momentarily in her pacing across
one of the border walls of the fey city of Siobhangé. Nights in
the forest of Ré-Nancet came fast and thick, heavy layers of heat
and moisture that laid low any not used to their potency. But tonight,
a chill wind was blowing, and a foul scent lay thinly upon it.
She shivered under her light mail coat. She had been having wild, twisting
dreams of a stinking darkness for many weeks now, but at night, alone on
guard, the nightmares seemed much, much closer.
She pushed the thoughts away with a discipline born of long practice. Focusing on the forest laid out before her, she resumed her pacing, tapping the blade of her dagger against her palm. It was the only outward sign of her distraction.
A bird flew past her face, making her gasp and jump back in a fit of fraying nerves. She had never been so on edge before; something in the dark was making her mind reel around and around in circles. She had never felt so out of control before in her own body, and the suddenly blustery wind wasn't helping.
Feeling sick, she leaned back against the wall. The stench in the air was growing stronger, and every sense she had was on the alert. Even feeling as weak as she did, Merrie was still a force to be reckoned with. Her twin daggers were drawn from their sheaths and held trembling before her as she sent a call echoing out from her mind to any who could aid her.
Silence, however, reigned in her mind. A wall had been thrown up between her and her people; she could not reach them by the old ways, and something was very, very wrong.
"Votal! Aramira! Help! Something's here...something's coming!" Her voice, grown shrill with fear, was caught off as a roar seemed to leap straight at her. She slammed back into the wall, and the last sensation she remembered before its claws slashed into her face and neck was the rough stone against her back.
By the time Votal and Aramira had reached the platform, all that
Merrie had left was a small bloodstain on the ground they could barely
notice in the silent
darkness.
*************
Even curled up next to Sam and covered with silken sheets, Anemosi still felt the cold. Shivering, she rose from the bed gently, so as not to wake Sam, and padded outside in bare feet. The air she breathed was warm and scented, and she wandered serenely in the night down a moonlit path, unafraid and blissfully happy.
She could not remember how long she had dwelt in the Undying Lands, with every day more perfect than the last. All life was joy when spent with Sam, so who would count the days?
She had reached the beach, a silver figure that gleamed softly in the dark. The sand under her feet was smooth and slippery, and to avoid falling she sat down upon the shore. A gentle wind played through her hair, lifting it in tendrils around her face. The sea air brushed her nostrils, tingling in her lungs and reminding her of the day she had sailed away from Middle-Earth forever.
A tear dropped out of her eye, unbidden, and she dashed it away. There could be no sadness here, surrounded by such love and peace, but her mind still cried out for the memories of Kerra, of Drake, of Merrie...of the hobbits, of all the dear friends she had left behind.
Sam, somehow sensing that Anemosi was no longer beside him, rose slowly from sleep to find himself alone. He wasn't worried; he knew how Anemosi loved the sea, and he got up sleepily to look out the window facing the beach. There she was, hair blowing at behind her as she sifted sand over and over through her fingers. His heart swelled again with love for her, and a never-ceasing wonder at being with her here, in the Undying Lands.
I think I'll join her down there, he thought as he gathered his shirt up from the floor. Trying to fasten his buttons with sleep-numbed fingers and walk at the same time occupied his attention for a precious few seconds as he hummed lightly to himself. The night seemed to be close and hovering, but he paid it no mind until he reached the portion of the path that was obscured from the beach.
Something passed him. Something dark and heavy and filthy-smelling. He stumbled, searing visions of Mordor clouding his sight, and he had barely regained his feet before he heard Anemosi cry out from the beach.
"Sam! Sweet Lady, Sam! Help me!" There was a breath of silence; then, a high, silvery scream that sliced through his brain.
"Anemosi!" he yelled helplessly, the old fear of losing her rising hot and heavy in his throat. "Anemosi!"
"Sam! Oh, Sam!" Another scream, then the low growl of something ancient and evil. Sam was running as fast as he could; there were alarmed voices behind him, and footsteps, but his only thought was for Anemosi.
He was pounding over sand now, his feet slipping and sliding, but now he could see her. There was a trail of silvery blood on the sand, leading to Anemosi's form. Something dark was dragging her away, under the sand, and she was struggling feebly against it.
"No! Anemosi!" He almost fell at her side, clutching for her hand, trying to pull her away from whatever it was that was attacking her, but the creature lashed out with stinging claws and knocked him away.
"Sam!" she cried weakly, and and he opened his eyes in time to see her disappear under the sand in a heartbeat.
"No!" he wailed, and heedless of his pain, he started scrabbling in the sand, desperately hoping he could reach her. It was to no avail, and he thrashed out blindly through his tears at the person who tried to draw him away.
Frodo let go of Sam's arms, allowing Gandalf to pry Sam away from the hole he had dug.
"What happened, Gandalf?" whispered Frodo over Sam's body-wracking sobs. "What happened to Anemosi? I thought nothing could happen here, in the Undying Lands."
"We did as well, Frodo," came Lord Elrond's voice from behind
him. His voice stilled all noise, even the sound of Sam's tears, and his
face was set and hard.
"We thought we were safe here. Apparently, we were wrong."
"Where is she?" wailed Sam. "What is going on?"
"It is as I feared," replied the Lady Galadriel, who had just gracefully descended the path. "There is an evil in Middle-Earth that has the power to reach even Eressea."
A chill wound up Frodo's spine. "Sauron?" he whispered. Galadriel shook her head.
"It cannot be. He perished when the One Ring was destroyed. This is a new danger, a new enemy whose name we do not know." She tilted back her head to gaze at the stars, and her eyes were fearful. "If the Lady Radika cannot defend herself, then I do not know what there is to do against such a foe."
Sam sank to the ground in heartbreak. His beloved Anemosi...but
what was this under his hand? He lifted the object up and peered at it
in the dark. The Sun was just beginning to show her face over the horizon,
and he could just make out faint writing upon the rough surface. "Look,"
he said softly, and all turned to him.
"There's Elvish on this, but not like any kind I've seen."
Galadriel took it from him slowly. Her face darkened and grew pained, and she almost threw the stone to the ground. "Mordor," she spat. "It came from Mordor."
Silence fell upon the gathering. An eternity passed before Sam cleared his throat.
"I'm going back."
"But Sam!" cried Frodo. "You cannot go alone!"
Sam's face was set in a look of determination Frodo recognized all too well. "Why not, Mr. Frodo? You tried to go to Mordor alone; why can't I?"
"Because I won't let you!" answered Frodo.
Another brief silence fell before Gandalf spoke. "It seems to me," he said quietly, his hands upon his belt, "that it is time for the Fellowship to come together against a new foe."
"You mean to leave Eressea?" asked Elrond.
"If we do not go," answered Gandalf, "there may not be an Eressea left. If this enemy has captured the Lady Radika, who knows who else they are attacking, or what aims they are pursuing. It is up to us to fight the enemy of the free people of the world."
The Sun was rising over the Sundering Sea as their ship set sail
for Middle-Earth.
