Mwahahaha! (Translation: It's Sarah here again! :P)

Cassia: Cool! *jots 'Lo siento' down in her book of handy Spanish phrases* I now have 'please', 'thank you', 'you're welcome', 'what time is it?', 'where is the bathroom?', and 'the refrigerator'. Hm. I guess that last one's not a phrase, is it? ;P Oh, and the posting problem is by no means your fault! We just weren't paying close enough attention. I'm sure we'll get it all fixed, and even if we don't: we've only got three chapters left anyway. :) *imagines Cassia leaping from her chair hard enough to hit the ceiling* Er… lo siento? :D *enjoys a good laugh* Ah yes, the old vocabulary swap! *calls to her sister* Which words are on our list at the moment? Hannah: Cantankerous, moniker, digits, and crimmny (sp?). Me: That's right. *wink* :D Oh, and glad the little mix-up there was amusing! I'm honestly not sure how it happened — I tend to write those sorts of scenes by the seat of my pants with my fingers crossed. ;P See you soon!!

Karina: Hey, believe me: there are very few people who actually catch up on reviews the way you do! *grins broadly at the jewel among readers* Hope school gets better (I hardly know whether to suggest it might get easier). ;) I'm not entirely up on the whole 'wight' thing — all I know is what Tolkien wrote. I'll have to look them up sometime when I have a dictionary on hand. :) Oooh! Glad you liked the kitty! *points with a grin to her marvelously creative sister* :D *collapses into giggles* Have you ever seen Emperor's New Groove? You and the mom in that have a lot in common: she washes things when she's upset. ;D Funny, we seem to be getting quite a few Eression sympathizers! I mean, it's one thing when Hannah and I like him — he's our character. But with everyone else… maybe our sympathy came through his character more than we had thought! :) Yup, I wrote the poem all by me onesie. *wink* It was actually one of the first things I did for this fic — even before I knew where it would go — and if you're looking for hidden fun: the last word in each couplet is a variation on the word 'flight'. *grins proudly over her confusing little verses* ;P *gapes and cringes at thought of Legolas the pretty blonde orc* Horrors!! Yes, by all means: let us leave him as an elf. ;D Worry not: we plan to send Elrond to Tahiti as soon as this fic is over, and he's not even going to be IN the next one. :) LOL! You make it sound so tempting 'hop on the 95, then the 81' — if only we had the time and money for it! :| I think all rangers drift a little onto the loony side of things — so no, Kemen wasn't far wrong. ;P Yeah, poor Helin! At least she has Kemen. *wink* And actually, none of the Bree folk will be reappearing in this fic, we're sorry to say! :{ *pats poor Bartho on the head* See? Karina thinks Lindamar was a goose too. ;) Ask Cassia and Sio: I'm sure they'd be more than happy to fill in any number of embarrassing stories for Legolas! :D Aragorn is indeed a delight to write, especially when he helps us out by inserting his own 'canniness' (it's rather hard to force when he's not in the mood to cooperate :P) You have a great day too! :)

Finsarnien: *sigh* Alas, I cannot tell you if you were right or not! *glances at Hannah* I'd be in big trouble if I did. ;P Believable? Really? *hugs Finsarnien* Thanx!! :D

Belothien: Let me guess: 'angry Bartho' isn't the only one we'll have to worry about, huh? :{ *grins* Yes, well, if you have to have a kink in the communication lines, it's nice to have it work out so well. Next time he might say 'throw it' when Aragorn's just removed his smelly boot. ;D Yeah, I think they've had more than their fair share of evil monsters, huh? ;) I'm pretty sure Idhrin and Co. are in here somewhere… :)

Lurker_elf: *nudges trampoline with foot and sighs* Well, I can't say your guess is wrong… :| *pauses for a moment to picture Aragorn in a bright orange hardhat* Hm. *then pictures Legolas in one — and promptly falls out of her chair laughing* Oooh, that was a bad one! I hadn't realized dropping things on them had become such a habit for us… ;D Yes, we let (Allowed? Forced?) Legolas ride the Nwelmai, but you'll note we resisted the urge to have him squeal, "Yehaaaa!" or anything else un-elf-like. ;P And yes: the mystery behind the door is about to be revealed, and yes: the twins will be appearing soon. Not in this chapter, but soon. :)

Suzi: *cracks up* Um, no, I think I will definitely have to deny most of those suggestions. Particularly Pippin. :D On behalf of our battle: thank you!! SO glad you liked it. :) And no worries: you aren't alone. We seem to have a good many beleaguered college students just now… ;)

Anarril: *snorts* LOL! We'll have to write Mother Goose (or whoever) and tell her. ;D And the thing about 'somebody's about to get shot' cliffies is that you all KNOW nothing is going to come of them! Aragorn and Legolas are still up and kicking in FOTR. So this is really the only sort of cliffie that can actually keep you guessing. ;)

Mariana Nimeneth: Nice to hear Nwel's so reformed. ;D YOU on the other hand… (or if not you, then at least the people on your bus). *shakes head in bewilderment* What I want to know is who was the first idiot who set fire to a can of bugspray in the first place?? Still, it might come in handy should anyone attempt to mug me on the way home from shopping for bugspray and Sunny D. ;P And you've turned Lenablin into toast, I might add. Not that he didn't deserve it, or anything. ;P Glad you liked our danger scenes, and sorry we had you so worried! *whips out Super Woman cape* We'll save you!

Carrie: You're right, it kind of does resemble that scene, doesn't it? I can't remember, but I don't think that was on purpose… :) I should warn you: when you start asking for padded walls, people generally don't have them installed — they just give you strange looks and book you a reservation at the Funny Farm, where such conveniences are already installed. ;P LOL! Sorry about the cliffie; too much Cassia/Sio influence. ;) One way we're going to fit all that in is through some longer-than-usual posts — including this one. :) You lucky girl! We're not going to the first showing (the nearest theater to us is an hour and a half away), but we'll dress up when we do go. That's lots of fun. :D Don't worry! Moranuen is guaranteed to be safe, even if no one else is. He's Cassia and Sio's OC, so we can't kill him. ;) Hugs back!

Maranwe: Aragorn reached that conclusion partly through what he read in the book and partly from his own experience (i.e. that he has seen Nwelmai injured in ways that really *ought* to have killed them, but they haven't died, implying that something else is sustaining their life besides heart, lungs, brain, etc.) :) Yeah, sorry about that. Maybe I should just put out a general cliffie warning until the end… I'm afraid we don't really fix things here either. :{ LOL! Yeah, you *must* be tired. ;D

Lady Sandry: *glances ruefully at her sister* No, rush isn't good. :P *blushes the color of roses* Subtle again? Oooh! *squeezes Sandry* Yeah, I've always liked that trust aspect about those scenes as well. :D How did we do it, though? Golly, I dunno. Generally when I write these sorts of scenes (and I know Hannah/Siri operates much the same way) I have some basic points I want to include, and the rest I just write on the fly. Once I get started, I can usually immerse myself in a scene, and once there: if *I* can't see exactly what happened by reading my own words, I figure the readers won't be able to either. It can be tiring, but when people like you tell us that you followed the whole thing and enjoyed it, it makes it all worth the time! :D *chuckles* Yes, the 'why' department frequently goes first, doesn't it? Glad you liked that line, whatever the reason! :)

The good news is that this chapter is *long*! The bad news is that, well… you'll see. :{

*Sarah hits the 'add chapter' button*

*in perfect Trinity-and-Neo-Matrix-lobby-scene synchronization, Sarah and Hannah both look at each other… and then simultaneously run in opposite directions*

______________________________________________________________________________

Darkest Night

By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)

(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries

available at the top of chapter 1)

Chapter 16

Darkest Night

It was as though he were stepping into a nightmare; a night apparition of the past haunting his mind and playing tricks on his eyes. As though he was remembering things he had never known and seeing things that he knew could not be real. Yet somehow he knew how real it was. The floor whispered beneath his feet, the walls seemed to scream silently in an agony only they could feel, leaping tongues of flame twisted towards Aragorn as he entered the room from torches bracketed on the walls. They seemed to be beckoning him, but he paid them no heed.

As he and Legolas stepped through into the chamber the door swung shut as though someone had shoved it with an invisible hand. Aragorn resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and kept his eyes fixed on the man in the center of the room.

This man…this being could only be the specter of a vision, an escaped phantom from the dark dreams that the evil man sees when he knows his end is near. Tall he was, and though power seemed to writhe over his very being, he was pale and gaunt and his skin seemed a slight cover against the black evil that shone beneath the mask. His eyes were of a piercing silver and these eyes stared unflinchingly at Aragorn, as though he were not surprised to see him there. His mouth twisted and contorted, sucking and tasting the air.

Aragorn felt his heart throb inside him and wished desperately that the man would turn his gaze, but when he did not the Dúnedain met it squarely and did not cringe away from the horrible face.

At last the man leaned forward and though he did not drop his gaze he suddenly began to sniff the air as though he perceived a desirably scent close by. Aragorn, who suddenly became aware that he had lost the bandage around his head somewhere in the fight, had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what the man was smelling.

All remained quiet for a moment then the man's face tightened in what may have been a smile but appeared revolting to Aragorn.

"I have waited long for you to come… heir of Isildur."

Aragorn flinched suddenly at that though he tried hard to hide it. He felt his heart hammering in his chest now and his breath seemed to be caught in his throat. None save a choice few were to know his identity, and if this man knew…

The man laughed mirthlessly in a mocking way that made Aragorn cringe inwardly. Slowly, deliberately the specter took a step forward and the ranger became aware of Legolas moving close behind him.

"Now, now young heir, do you think me a fool? I can smell your heritage from where I stand, I could see it from afar, I can taste every breath you breathe, I could feel you through the beings I send out by my hand…" The man trailed off and slowly, as though it caused him pain, he reached his hand out towards Aragorn.

Aragorn bit down a startled gasp and he felt Legolas stiffen behind him.

It barely looked like a hand any longer. The bones could plainly be seen and each finger seemed to twist and bend in grotesque ways; the nails were cracked and a sickly black, and from the wrist to the tips of the fingers the hand convulsed and twitched like a living creature.

It was upon the second right finger that he saw it though. A glimmering gem on the mutilated finger: round as a pearl, hard as a diamond, and white as poisoned milk. Two bodiless sets of claws clutched the stone tightly to the wide, black band; digging into it with the strength of their greed. The metal was dull and lusterless except for the white stone and the glittering silver tips on the claws. An aura radiated from it like cold from ice.

Aragorn recognized it. Disembodied claws, reaching — ever reaching. It was an ancient design that he had seen on many ruins of Angmar and printed on the pages of the old book found in the Downs. It sent an wintry chill down his spine and he knew… he remembered…

The man at last pulled his hand back.

"You have come in due time Aragorn son of Arathorn, for I have just prepared to spring the trap that I have long set…upon the foes of darkness…" Slowly, the man moved back to the center of the room and raised his hand towards the tower ceiling flexing his fingers outwards. "Captain Eression, be sure that I am not… interrupted."

That was when Aragorn saw the other man standing in the corner. For a moment Aragorn was certain he looked familiar and as the eyes flicked to him the ranger remembered the man all at once. This was the same human who had been present at the capture of his brothers. Aragorn felt his gaze turn fiery as he watched the captain step towards them.

Legolas, who had apparently noted the man long ago, was already tracing the man's every movement, and Aragorn knew what his friend intended.

Their attention was suddenly turned back to the dark man in the center of the room as he began to murmur to the ring on his hand.

At first Aragorn could make out no words between the chanting, but at last the words became nothing but sounds, high, fearful, blood-chilling screams that Aragorn had heard many times of late. The cry of the Nwelmai came from the man's pale lips and filled Aragorn with undesired terror; the rocks seemed to shake around them.

"Come Nwelmai!" the man shrieked loudly. "Come! Come and devour! Come and destroy! Lord Kallomore calls! Bring them to the grave! Send the sons of the North to shadow!"

"No!" Aragorn realized the cry had come from him — though for a moment he was unsure whether he had said it or only thought it. All at once he saw what the dark human was doing, calling all the beasts upon the Dúnedain just outside, not to push back, not to play with, not as a test of their strength, but to kill. To kill them all.

Aragorn started towards the Kallomore but Eression, anticipating the man's move, had already come at a run towards Aragorn, throwing his weight forcibly into the ranger. Aragorn was toppled off his feet and onto the floor. He felt the breath jolted out of him and dimly he heard the sound of a blade being pulled from a sheath but could not find the source of the sound, all he knew was that in another moment the captain was off of him. He quickly got to his feet and turned to find Legolas pinning the man hard against the wall.

"Aragorn!" Legolas called towards him, thrown back slightly as Eression kicked out at the elf.

Aragorn needed no prompting. Running forward he lunged towards the chanting man.

Halbarad could never remember such a hard ride in his life. The only sound in his ears was the thud of hooves beneath him and the pounding of his heart in his head. His unbound hair obscured his vision such that he simply trusted the animal he rode to keep him on the right course. Nothing but absolute determination could have driven the four riders so hard, but Halbarad knew as Bartho knew as Moranuen knew as Erynbenn knew that they had not a moment to lose. As it was, Halbarad begrudged every moment that passed. He could only hope they would reach their destination in time, though for what he feared to speculate.

It was Erynbenn who heard it first. His keen young ears were sharp and he was at the far rear of the group.

"Halbarad!" he called up towards the front. "Something is upon us!"

Bartho took the first initiative, pulling back slightly until he rode just beside the younger ranger and he heard it as well. Moranuen gave a short nod.

"They are close."

"Nwelmai?" Halbarad asked tentatively, glancing at Bartho who had come beside him again. Bartho was not given a moment to respond.

All at once they were upon them. Through the tangle it was nearly impossible to know just how many there were but it seemed as though six or seven Nwelmai were suddenly surrounding them, running alongside the terrified horses and then outdistancing them. Halbarad pulled his horse to a halt, shortly followed by the others.

Ahead the fell creatures pushed across the chill grass, their screams echoing back to the riders. Halbarad drew in a strained breath and Moranuen wondered aloud, "Why did they not attack us?"

But they all felt certain they knew.

"They have been called back," Bartho replied grimly. "To aid in the fight."

"No," Halbarad whispered. "To end it."

As one the riders pushed their steeds forward again, resolve and utter desperation pressing them, if possible, faster than before.

The sky grew dark as twilight.

"Ride to the head! Push them back!" Idhrin resisted his own urge to order the retreat. He knew it was a fruitless venture they undertook now and ever muscle in his body screamed for him to turn and run. But he would not, and neither would any of the men. They all knew their deaths were very near, but this was a price they would pay to buy Aragorn the time he needed.

"Push them back!" someone echoed Idhrin's command to several Dúnedain further down. And as one the men rode forward slashing downwards at their enemies, cleaving heads, slitting throats, stabbing chests and bringing the mutilated beasts to their end. Idhrin felt sure that they could overcome the orcs if not for their superior numbers. But not all the orcs came from the tower entrance. Most came from an underground den, and many spilled from the wasteland behind the tower, appearing like maggots from every curve and crevice. The dead were replaced by reinforcements, and all the time the numbers grew. The skill of the Dúnedain was great and their will to survive strong, but while none of the men had yet been killed each had many injuries to boast. Idhrin knew it was only a matter of time…

A crackle of thunder sounded overhead and the Dúnedain made another charge for the ranks of orcs shoving them back as best they could, the earth trembled then in a strange reverberation that spoke of danger, and suddenly the orcs backed down from their advance. Idhrin gave the order to push the advantage though he knew it was not necessary. For some unknown reason the battle had taken an unusual turn. The orcs fell back shrieking, most returning to their caves. Idhrin pulled up his horse suddenly and gave the order to halt.

Some of the men were confused, but he knew several had felt the same thing he had. The orcs were fleeing…but not from the rangers.

A horrible scream filled the air and the horses reared under their masters giving cries of alarm. The howls of the Nwelmai rebounded off the tower and echoed back into Idhrin's ears. Malvegil came up beside him, his eyes squinting against a burst of lightening from the darkening sky.

"They have come," he said.

Idhrin turned to him, jerking his sword up. "They shall not get past us," he said with vehemence he could only partially feel. Malvegil gave a short nod and brought up his own weapon. All down the line the other rangers followed suit as they turned to face the new threat, they're faces calm and grim.

Then they came.

It was nearly impossible to tell how many there were; Idhrin could at least count seven, but some seemed to come apart and be truly two instead of one. Shapes could be seen and sometimes he would make out a foot, a claw, a tail, perhaps a head, but all of it seemed to fuse together into a wall of darkness that could sweep through the valley and rob it of all life.

Idhrin raised his sword high. "For the North!" All the Dúnedain repeated the cry and as one surged to meet the enemy as it came.

Aragorn's head-long momentum was not well aimed but he still caught the man in the middle, knocking him down.

The man's eerie incantation was instantly halted as the ranger bore him to the ground. Aragorn felt the man impact the floor beneath him and wondered suddenly if he had killed him…but a moment later this was proved a foolish idea. With more strength than Aragorn would have thought possible Kallomore shoved the Dúnadan off of him, knocking the ranger to the floor and rising swiftly to his feet. His eyes were hard and flinty as he stared down at the younger man. Aragorn was transfixed by the gaze for a moment, then he collected himself as the man moved towards him. Hastily he tried to rise but again he was stalled as he felt the mutilated hand slide behind his head, gripping his hair very close to the skull. The hand felt like the darkest cold, wet and clammy. The ring was touching his skull and it seemed to burn the ranger where it touched him. Aragorn tried to squirm away as the specter jerked him to his feet. But the man only gave a dry chuckle and drew Aragorn's face close to his own.

"You think you can stop it, young heir? No one can stop it." Kallomore's voice hummed like a serpent though he spoke to Aragorn as if he were a child. "It has begun… it has ended. There is naught you can do to change what is already over… and you are only prolonging their deaths… and your death…" Kallomore's tone suddenly turned into an almost chant, a chant that was echoed by the gruesome pictures that littered the walls, "Accept it. Accept it."

Aragorn looked into the eyes and felt something screaming very close by his ear. Close to his head. Close to his heart.

Accept it.

Accept it…

Aragorn gave a sudden jerk of the head, as much as he could in the man's grip, and shut his eyes, shaking away the remnants of his confusion and with it the voice that was clawing at his mind. Twisting again in the man's tight grasp he brought his forehead up to connect with the man's nose, ending once again Kallomore's dark ramblings. There came a sickening crunch and Aragorn knew full well he had broken it. Kallomore gave an inhuman howl and threw the ranger back.

Somewhere behind him Legolas was locked in close battle with Kallomore's captain but Aragorn couldn't seem to move his head to see how his friend fared. He watched as Kallomore's hand moved from his nose which was bleeding heavily — then the Dúnadan drew back as he saw that the blood was tainted like the rancid blood of the Nwelmai. It seemed to burn the dark man as it slid towards his mouth and he swiped it away, moving towards Aragorn once again.

Aragorn was ready this time though and as he rose to his feet he drew out his sword. Prepared to end it here and now.

Malvegil felt the impact as he was thrown from his horse. He rose quickly to his feet to meet the attack he knew was coming. One of the Nwelmai had singled him out some time ago and at each turning he had found that it was tracking his moves until its tail had finally found his steed and lashed it badly. Without giving the motion much thought Malvegil thrust his sword up into what he guessed to be the creature's throat. He heard it hiss with pain but at the same moment he saw a black liquid sliding down his blade and quickly jerked the sword out before the blood reached his hand.

He fell back a step and the Nwelmai took this as an advantage — not that it needed one.

With a deft blow the Nwelmai knocked him back further and landed him hard on the ground. Malvegil struggled to rise, bringing his sword up, but suddenly felt a great paw press on his stomach. He looked up and saw the shadowy hairs just before his face and felt his heart thud wildly as the pressure began to increase: his air was being forced from his lungs. Distantly he wondered if this was the same Nwelmai that had nearly killed Aragorn; it seemed to favor this tactic on its victims.

Blotches blurred his vision and Malvegil felt the darkness taking him… then the Nwelmai gave a deafening shriek and pulled back, releasing the Dúnadan and whirling savagely on some new foe. Malvegil gasped hard and tried to find his breath. He could hear the Nwelmai shrieking in anger and tried to see past the splotches; he began to cough on the air he attempted to breathe and felt as though his lungs had been punctured. Suddenly he felt someone beside him.

"Breathe, my friend. Start slow, then longer." Malvegil concentrated on doing as he was instructed though his battle adrenaline was screaming at him to rise. At last he felt the air fill his lungs and turned to the one beside him.

"Mora?" Malvegil gave a tired breath before rising next to the elf, his broad shoulders straightening.

"Yes," Moranuen nodded not releasing the man's elbow until he was sure he could stand. "It was lured away for a moment to lick its wounds. Those that should have been fatal," he added ruefully.

Malvegil turned for a moment and looked to the mêlée around him, wondering from whence his help had appeared. He saw Halbarad also, and Erynbenn and Bartho caught in the fray. No others. Yet still he saw no fallen bodies and for that he felt his hope rise.

"Come Malvegil," Moranuen touched his arm and then reached back to draw another arrow. "We must return to the battle."

Legolas ducked the full-fisted blow Eression sent at his head and twisted around to grip the captain by the wrist.

Eression brought a short knife up from his side and slashed towards Legolas' face, forcing the elf to arch back and avoid the strike while still keeping a firm grip on the man's wrist. The human was a formidable opponent, Legolas could not deny that. Nothing seemed to surprise the man and he always recovered quickly from Legolas' attack as though he had already planned Legolas' advantages and his own defenses long before this night. Or was it still day?

Eression's advantage was furthered in Legolas' unavoidable distraction by his friend's plight. The elf could not risk much more than furtive glances in Aragorn's direction but this was enough to know that Kallomore was not falling prey to Aragorn's attacks and often took the upper hand. Legolas longed above all to take Eression down so that he could aid his friend, but Eression seemed equally determined to perform his leader's order.

Still holding the captain's wrist Legolas pushed his grip to a sudden advantage. Swerving to the left to avoid the dagger, he drove the man back towards the wall at the same time. Eression resisted this maneuver but Legolas was the stronger and soon had the man pinned against the wall.

Bringing his right hand up with the dagger still clenched there Eression snapped it out in short arch to imbed it in Legolas' back. Out of the corner of his eye Legolas saw the move and countered it quickly. Bringing his right hand over his left and slamming the heel of his hand into Eression's shoulder he bent the joint suddenly, sending Eression's hand jolting upwards. Pressing his advantage Legolas jerked the captain away from the wall and twisted him around, pinning his arm behind his back.

In his right hand Eression still held the knife, but he could no longer find a clear place to strike Legolas and seemed unable to wrench out of the prince's hold. The elf thrust his knee into the man's back, tugging him forward against his grip and catching hold of his right forearm, pulling the knife towards him.

With his back to the elf and both arms effectively captured Eression could only struggle against his opponent's hold. The human gave a checked cry as Legolas drove him to the ground, pinning him on his knees with one deceptively light foot.

What Legolas would have done then, however, was halted suddenly as a cry brought the elf's attention to the other side of the room.

Aragorn held his sword tightly and slashed again at his opponent but it mattered not how close his blow had come, for it could find naught but empty air. The swish of a blade missing its mark drove his warrior's heart to frustration. He could feel the man's presence — see him standing idly as though Aragorn's feeble attempts to fell him were as hopeless as his situation — but he could not strike him down. Kallomore was always several inches abreast of his attack and he felt his apprehension mount.

Could this man not be struck down? Had he then become so like to the fell beasts under his command — was he immortal?

Aragorn gave a desperate yell and cut again towards the man. He could hear Kallomore laughing and looked up into the haunting silver eyes; again, it seemed, he had stepped from the path of the ranger's blade.

His muscles throbbed and his wounds stung like bitter flames as Aragorn lowered his weapon slightly. He heard his breath coming short and unsteady. Kallomore only laughed again.

But Aragorn could not give up — he knew he could not. Too many lives depended on these next moments and he would fight to his last drop of blood. He would neither surrender his men to their deaths nor would he sacrifice his brothers if they yet lived; not while he had breath in him.

With another cry Aragorn lunged for the man once again. Stroke upon stroke he laid on the air, advancing on the man and watching him back steadily away. The images on the wall seemed to mock him in every long forgotten and vile tongue imaginable, but Aragorn heeded not their words.

Suddenly, upon a high stroke aimed for the man's head, Kallomore moved unexpectedly forward and cut his arm down hard to land on Aragorn's forearm, sending a jolt down the man's whole body. Slipping behind the ranger, Kallomore took him by elbow, pressing his fingers harshly into between the bones at the joint. Aragorn gave a startled cry as a spasm of pain ran up his arms to his finger tips and he dropped the sword with a clatter the floor.

He made a brief struggle but the man's strength was overpowering. Kallmore pulled one arm behind the ranger, pinning it, and then he forcefully slid his mutilated fingers around Aragorn's throat, and the pressure he put there told the Dúnadan how he was to die.

Aragorn held still, hearing the man's voice whisper very close to his ear.

"Accept it… Aragorn…" The pressure intensified —

"Hold!"

The voice startled Aragorn and he jerked his head up sharply, or as much as he could with the man still gripping him around the neck, Kallamore looked up as well, and what he saw gave him sudden pause.

Erynbenn thrust his sword clumsily towards the monster's feet. He felt the shock of pain as the gash in his arm screamed at him, but the ranger grit his teeth and struck again. The creature seemed to find Erynbenn's attempts to fell it amusing; there was a sense of dark humor in the air.

The human was not prepared for the strong cuff he received across the side of the head. He was knocked sideways and fell hard on his injured arm; he heard a cry and was vaguely aware that it had come from his lips. Twisting around on the oppressive earth, feeling sharp rocks dig into his skin as he moved, he looked up into the face of his attacker. For a moment he felt he could almost define its features: a pair of glittering eyes the color of ink, a smooth head with gray fur clinging close, a hunter's nose. The nostrils flared with every breath and Erynbenn felt exhaled air burn his face as the creature stood over him. As the mouth opened the teeth appeared, translucent in front and yellow in back, sliding into the beasts mouth where blackened blood had collected. Erynbenn felt fear but he knew that now was not the time to lose his control. Moving with the speed of desperation he thrust his blade upwards right into the creature's belly.

The high shriek nearly deafened him as it was screamed to his face. He was sickeningly aware of the blood that slid down the blade and quickly jerked his sword up the Nwelmai's underside. The monster gave a yowl and leapt up, the blade was jerked from Erynbenn's hands, and, with the sword still lodged in its belly, the Nwelmai reared above the Dúnadan. Erynbenn pulled himself from his prone position and struggled back quickly, with no other option of escape.

A sharp pain stabbed through his leg and he let out a startled cry. Looking down he saw that the beast's tail had wrapped around his ankle, imbedding its claw in his flesh. Erynbenn felt his heart hammering as the shadow above him made a gleeful clicking noise that echoed around the ravine. Desperately the ranger searched for some manner of weapon but all he could find were rocks and that would do nothing to this beast.

Giving one final howl the Nwelmai descended back towards Erynbenn, its claws extended to their full span and a hungry look in its hollow eyes.

Then a sudden war cry jerked Erynbenn from his trance and he dropped his gaze in time to see another figure appear before him. A blade flashed and the creature gave a guttural scream as his tail was severed close to Erynbenn's foot.

The Nwelmai came down suddenly but its attacker was ready and he quickly jerked his own weapon into the creature's bleeding underside, drawing his blade swiftly to its chest.

Bartho turned his head for a moment to the young man behind him who was rising shakily to his feet, prying the severed tail from his ankle.

"Erynbenn," the Dúnadan called, "get your sword!"

Erynbenn nodded, but that brush with death had been close enough to send his adrenaline soaring and now he tried hard to concentrate on what Bartho had just said. His sword? Where was his sword? He had lost it.

In the Nwelmai.

His sluggish brain caught up with him suddenly and he rushed back towards Bartho who was still trying to drag his weapon through the shadowed beast. Diving between the Nwelmai's legs Erynbenn saw the glint of his blade and grabbed hold of its hilt, dragging it back and then jerking it upwards. The Nwelmai gave a scream of agony and tried to rear up again and crush the human beneath him, but Bartho had thrust his blade between the ribs, twisting it so that it could not be jerked loose, and though the Nwelmai tried, it could not dislodge the steel from its ribs.

It only had one choice left and in its cruel mind it cared not how much pain the action cost it. One of the men at least was its rightful prey.

Turning suddenly it began to lower itself to the ground, altering the angle of its descent to match the angle of the sword. Slowly, Bartho's blade cut higher in the wound, glancing and skittering between the bones.

The ranger frowned as he was no longer having to force his blade upward — the beast was impaling itself. Then understanding suddenly dawned and Bartho's heart lurched.

"Erynbenn! Get out!"

Erynbenn heard his companion's call but already he could feel his legs giving way as the creature's body fell upon him like an avalanche of stone, forcing him to the earth. The ground was hard, merciless, unyielding. As the weight crushed Erynbenn's ribs, the last of his breath came out in a whisper,

"Bartho…"

TBC…