Legolas's words sent a horrific chill down Annore's spin. Dol-Guldur? he thought aghast. Opened? Oh, dear Eru. Valar help us! He couldn't see anything, but he could feel everything. His skin tingled from the chill that suddenly sliced through the clearing, and he raised his head slowly. His fingers curled around clumps of dirt that shook from the stomps of Orcs, the strands of grass wrapping around his fingers as he searched desperately for reassurance. The sounds of the battle had suddenly ceased, though he knew arrows still soared through the air and blades still sung. He knew from his sixth sense, the warrior sense every able-bodied, successful fighter acquired when they picked up their first blade. It let him know when a battle was somewhere, somewhere close, and right now that sense was screaming. `

Legolas's eyes were wide and terrified as they roamed over the array of fallen bodies of orcs and goblins. Thankfully, he saw no lifeless form of any of his companions, but his eyes stopped searching, landing at the long, swirling dark cloak.

The master of Dol-Guldur.

"That is no Ring Wraith," Legolas whispered hoarsely, taking a mindless step backwards. The back of his knees bumped into Annore's side, since Legolas was covering the injured man, and Annore reached up, locking his hand around Legolas's arm, using it to finally boost himself up to his feet.

He staggered slightly, but he stood, his arm still wrapped firmly around Legolas. The elf prince was unconsciously deflecting arrows and minor jabs, his mind obviously not on his task. "What is it?" Annore asked seriously. The bleeding from his eyes had finally slowed, but he still saw only darkness. He knew he was blind. But he took that thought and pushed it to the tiny, dark corner of his mind, where he kept the memory of Ridel's last moments and other horrific times of his past and saved it for another time. His other senses were beginning to strengthen; the sound of Legolas's shallow breathing roared in his ears, and the sound of steel on steel clashing made his head ring. He could smell the blood that had spilled into the soil, and the sweat dripping off both orc and man. He shook his head slightly and when Legolas didn't reply, prompted gravely, "Is it as we thought?"

He was referring, of course, to the Master of Dol-Guldur. The Necromancer.

Legolas could only blindly shake his head in the negative. His face was pale, the color having drained completely out and his eyes remained fixed on a set point. "No," he whispered. "It is as we feared."

----------------

Aragorn groaned, staggering. A goblin had caught him unaware, jumping on his back and wrapping his long, thick arms around his strong neck. He leaned forward, gagging as the air suddenly rushed out of his lungs. The goblin furiously jabbed his bony legs into the man's stomach, causing even more black spots to appear before Aragorn's eyes. The world swirled before his eyes, trees melting into earth as hungry faces leered at him. He tried to flip the goblin over with his last spurt of breath, but the beast's clutch was too tight. His legs wobbled; his knees gave way. He dropped to his feet, kneeling, and his body was shaking as he forced himself to cling to consciousness. He hadn't seen the doors of Dol-Guldur open, as he was fighting his war closer to the shelter of the forest, but now, as he knelt in the midst of the clearing, his chest aching, his brain screaming for oxygen, he had one last view of the forest. His eyes latched on something, standing directly in front of him. The being was seemingly made of shadows; it had no defined shape. It was ostensibly cloaked in thick, dense black darkness; the shadows rose in fell in an unseen wind, refusing to allow the being to have a definite outline. The only definite things Aragorn could register in those last, panic-stricken, hysterical moments was the burning, searing red eyes that gleamed in the coming dark. They were eyes of pure fire, where normal eyes should have been. The last thought Aragorn had before the world swam in darkness as he watched the Necromancer raise a long, gleaming black blade, was that is no ring wraith

-------------------------

Krystal had hidden herself high above the trees, perched between two hefty branches. Her eyes were wide, horrified, her muscles tense. Elladan had told her not to go into the battle unless she thought it was absolutely necessary. But Elladan wasn't even conscious to yell at her! Her eyes searched the scene one more time, trying desperately to find them – all of them, alive and well! She found Legolas easily enough, but even the elf prince who was fighting on his 'home turf' was struggling to stay afloat – they were too outnumbered, too overwhelmed. Annore was futile without his eyes; he couldn't see any arrows or daggers flying their ways, but he seemed to think he was able to fight. Tharros had gone down, but Glorifindel was covering him; but even the weathered, experienced elf was bleeding freely and as Krystal turned pained eyes over the clearing, she still could spot neither twin. Suddenly, Krystal gasped, muffling a piercing scream. A..a mysterious being, she couldn't even find the word to describe it, raised a sword to a unconscious Aragorn's neck.

That was it, the finally straw.

She took a deep, calming breath, glancing down at the trees. Her dagger caught the starlight, the shimmering moon out in full force as night took full hold of the clearing.

She glanced one last time at the scene below her, shivering with horror as the Neocromancer held the sword high, his fire eyes burning with malicious triumphant. Aragorn had fainted clean away at his feet and with a last deep breath, Krystal let herself drop out of the trees and into the clearing, falling to her knees with a thud. When she rose, her eyes widened.

At once, the noise was overwhelming. Orcs, goblins, men and elves screamed and hissed and the smell was nearly as repulsive. The orcs didn't seem to notice her sudden presence, but the mysterious dark force did. It glanced up, from where it was standing, wielding his lustrous blade, its fiery eyes locked with hers. She froze for a brief instant; he let out a roar of fury. The ground shook; the leaves rattled and even the moon above seemed to tremble. Krystal shook her head slightly, to clear the sudden buzzing noise that seemed to be drowning out the sounds of the battle. She raised her sword awkwardly, her face as mask of fear.

The Neocramncer slowly turned away from Aragorn's fallen form, and in Krystal's almost drunken stupor, her mind glazed with adrenaline, she saw the orcs drag Aragorn off to the side, to a darkened corner very close to the citadel, In a flash, Krystal saw a dark strand of hair and a soft eleven boot as they threw Aragorn down next to them; Elladan and Elrohir. Neither were moving.

In the brief instance that Krystal had paused to spot the twins, the Neocramncer was almost upon her. It raised its towering blade high, swinging it in a large arch. Rain began to fall headily, providing pounding rhythm to the battle which had yet to lull as Krystal watched the blade slowly descend towards her neck. It fell in almost slow motion, yet she knew she could never raise her blade in time, nor would she have the power to block the deathly blow.

The next few seconds passed by like an eternity as she kept her eyes locked on those scorching orbs, now burning gleefully with victory. Reality exploded in her mentality and she finally understood what all the warnings had been about. She had entered the battle only to die. Aragorn would perish anyway; the mission would fail. She couldn't duck in time; it would still slice through her neck and her life would end. Not here, she thought desperately. Not like this!

Her eyes latched onto the rapidly falling blade and in the back of her mind, something began to scream. It sounded amazingly like her mother, but Krystal realized instantly it was only her soul, crying out that she had to do something, anything, but she could not go down like this. And even as these thoughts flew across her mind, goblins became more aware of her presence and turned towards her, arrows bared and she knew even if she managed to survive her encounter with this…thing she would not make it back to Rivendell.

Suddenly, a voice rose out of the confrontation, screaming hoarse with exertion and panic but clear with purpose. "KRYSTAL! MOVE!"

Krystal obeyed mindlessly, in a split second quickly sidestepping the merest of inches, giving the blade just a few more inches to travel before it connected with the warmth of her skin.

The clash of steel slammed through her self conscious; it roared in her ears and she ducked, cringing. She raised her eyes to see Legolas, a murderous look etched on his face. His body was quivering with strength as he locked blades with the Neocramncer, force on both sides causing the sharp edges to rise locked in a stalemate in the air.

Beads of sweat littered his forehead and his mouth was opened, teeth clenched. "ARGH!" He groaned with effort, but still did not give an inch.

In the back of the elf's mind, he knew he couldn't hold this battle of strength for long. He knew exactly who this mysterious being was now; the answer that they had fear, the answer that had eluded them for so long was now directly in front of them. The Neocramncer was Sauron.

The only reason he was able to fight this battle right now was because Sauron was no where near his former strength. But they had never expected this opponent when they had launched this battle; this adversary was so far out of their league they couldn't even see it. But because Sauron was no where near his former strength, they might just have a chance to retreat.

"Krystal, fall back! Fall back, get Annore and Glorifindel and head into the trees!" He mumbled through his teeth, the blade precariously close to his skin.

Krystal was currently doing her best to deflect the sharp blows from the goblins and orcs, but she shook her head violently. Blood trickled down from her temple into the crease of her lip, but she shouted over the chaos. "Legolas, we will not surrender!"

Inwardly, Legolas groaned. This is no time for heroics! he thought furiously. We cannot win this battle! "Do as I say, Krystal!" he shouted exasperated, finally breaking the connection between the swords, spinning around quickly. His fiery opponent swung dangerously, but in Legolas's mind, he flashed back to a day long ago, in the crook of Rivendell's forest havens. He heard instructions echoing in his mind as he focused on making the sword part of his body, combining the steel of his blade with the quick, swift motions of his feet. A memory, almost as if from a dream, resurfaced in his mind, and hastily, he obeyed it. "You're not paying enough attention to your defense…go at it again, and this time, pay attention…

Legolas obeyed immediately, lowering his sword quickly, just in time to block an uppercut aimed directly at his left arm. He breathe an impeccable sigh of relief before he glanced back at Krystal, furiously. "Krystal, I said retreat!" He yelled. She opened her mouth to argue but he gave her a thunderous look. "THATS AN ORDER, KRYSTAL!"

Her mouth opened, then shut as if she were going to speak then thought the better of it. Turning quickly, she fled into the crush of bodies, her hair spinning among the dirty bodies of sweaty orcs. She didn't see Annore at first, but set her eyes scanning the perimeter of the forest and found the large, injured man. He had already retreated back among the underbrush to hide from the slicing assault from the goblins. She peered into the thick bushes, where he was crouching, his back against the same tree Krystal had been hiding in. "Annore?" She whispered, half terrified of this bleeding, tense man, half consumed with pity. "Annore, can you hear me?"

Annore said nothing, but his hands shot out like razors and he grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him and pulling her headfirst into the underbrush. He had somehow cleared out under the bushes, so that the thick branches created a soft of cavern against the trees and rocks where there was enough room for four large men to sit comfortably. The undergrowth hung over there heads and when Krystal blinked, getting her bearings. "How," she asked in a whisper, "did you do this?"

"Krystal?" Annore replied, in an equally soft tone. "What's happening? Where is everyone?"

"Annore, how do you feel?" Krystal countered, then caught herself. "Wait, we don't have time. Legolas told me to find you and retreat…" her voice trailed off. "But what about everyone else? We have to get our bearings before we go back out there again, and they have Aragorn, Elrohir and Elladan—"

"They what?" Annore asked horrified. "How? What happened?"

Krystal shook her head, forgetting he couldn't see her. "I have no idea," she answered sadly, though quickly. Her mind was racing and she was rapidly coming up with ideas. Her mouth couldn't keep up with the velocity with which her brain was firing off concepts as she stumbled over her words. "Glorifindel and Legolas are really the only ones still standing - I haven't seen Tharros in a long time, but he was being covered by Glorifindel so he should be alright. If I can snap the three stooges out of it and get them back here, perhaps we can get the orcs to back off until we've recovered." Annore frowned. "Where is Legolas?"

Krystal peeked her head through the bushes, and saw Legolas too was fleeing towards the trees, not looking back, just running full out. She let out a sigh of relief as he safely reached the cover of the foliage. The orcs immediately took his retreat as their victory, and roared with triumph. They congratulated themselves on winning against those hated elves, and those weak men. Their laughter echoed off the trees in hoarse grunts, and the Neocromancer began slithering back towards the open doors of Dul-Goldor.

It was now, or never, Krystal thought slowly. The orcs were occupied with their victory and that -- t-that thing was slowly, carefully, sweeping back towards the dark citadel. It would be her only chance to get to the sons of Elrond -- and glancing up, she saw a strand of golden slipping through the trees, and saw that Legolas had the same idea. Their eyes locked and for an eerie second, Krystal knew they shared the same thoughts. Without a word to Annore, she slowly stood, stepping back into the trees, deeper into the foliage. He didn't say a word after her and as she carefully followed Legolas's path through the trees, she realized he might not have known she'd left. Well, she thought, maybe I'll be back in time and he won't even know I'm gone. As the orcs congregated in the center of the clearing, the dark one paused on the steps, seemingly observing his servant's glee at their victory. Krystal and Legolas were careful to keep to the outside of the trees, and Krystal should just make out Glorifindel's silhouette in the gathering dark; a malformed lump was draped over his arms -- Tharros, probably, Krystal reasoned -- heading towards where Annore had created a makeshift hideaway. With Tharros safely deposited in their newly established headquarters, Glorifindel slowly began to follow Krystal's path.

Legolas reached the captives first -- they were bound together at the wrists, their heads lolling onto their chests with unconsciousness. No one spoke, but Krystal could see they were all unconscious and she frowned. They were all badly wounded -- Aragorn, who was heaving back and forth, seemingly having trouble breathing -- was the best off out of all of them.

Legolas was the first to reach the trio, and predictably, fell to his knees at Aragorn's side. Carefully, he untied – not cut – the bonds on Aragorn's wrists. The man slumped onto the elf's chest, the rush of blood to his hands causing him to moan subconsciously. Legolas shushed him hurriedly, taking Aragorn's chin in his hands. "Aragorn," he whispered roughly. "Estel, listen to me." But Estel did not wake. Reluctantly, Legolas shook him, urgency now pressing his actions. Glorifindel had joined Krystal at the edge of the forest, and Legolas looks up pleadingly. He gestures to Elladan and Elrohir, and immeaditely, Glorifindel moves towards him to help untie the bounds. Aragorn's eyelids flutter open as Legolas continues to shake him, and Legolas lets out a breath of relief. "Aragorn, can you hear me?"

The man nods weakly, and Legolas nods encouragely back. "Do you know where you are?" he asks, his voice still in a whisper. Aragorn's eyes dart around for a moment, and for a second, he looks thoroughly confused. But it comes rushing back to him in a flash of understanding, and he looks around wildly. "Legolas, it's Sauron, he's the Neocramncer – it's not a Ring Wrai—"

"Hush," Legolas interrupts. "We know. We need to retreat. This is far beyond us. Can you stand?"

The Orcs were breaking up now, and Krystal hissed at them to hurry. Aragorn manages to stand, and Elladan's eyes flutter open. His face is badly scared and bloody, but his eyes still manage to focus on Glorifindel and eventually his brother.

Legolas and Aragorn safely make it back to their little pile of bushes and since no one is in the condition to be climbing trees, it's the best they can do at the moment. The Orcs were beginning to lose attention in their triumph, and were slowly returning to their jobs, and cleaning up their dead comrades. Elrohir and Elladan were untied; Glorifindel worked quickly. He carefully got them both to their feet, gesturing silently for Krystal to take Elladan's arm and steady him. He took several steps forward, bringing them about 5 feet away from Krystal, closer to where the rest of the party was safely hidden. He threw an urging glance over his shoulder – but she was distracted, her face growing pale, her eyes latched onto something just over Glorifindel's shoulder.

Horrible, and deformed, black and shapeless, Sauron was standing directly in Glorifindel's path. Glorifindel staggered under the combined weight of twins of Elrond, turning towards Krystal with a hiss, "Human, hurry your—"

But he froze at the look on her face. Slowly he turned, as if he knew what he expected to see. And when his eyes came into contact with it, he paled dramatically, not only the color of his face but also the light glow that usually enclosed his body all but went out against the evil of the dark one.

Legolas had stepped out of the hiding spot, his mouth open in horror. "GLORIFINDEL!"

Sauron barely turned. He raised his hand slowly, gleefully, the black sword gleaming. Glorifindel tried to drag the twins—he tried to run, staggering over himself in a last ditch effort—Legolas was running towards them—Krystal was screaming—

A suddenly light in the midst of the dark clearing highlighted the whole horrific affair – a flash suddenly blasted across the clearing, narrowing down into a small, burning sphere, a top a tall, gray staff. The staff was held by an old, crumbling man, with blazing blue eyes.

"MIRTHRANDIR!" Legolas cried, running across the clearing towards Glorifindel. The orcs had now snapped out of their temporary joy-based hiatus, and charged at him, their swords causing him and Glorifindel to slam to a halt. Elladan's eyelids flickered.

"GANDALF!" Krystal screeched, her terror over riding her now. Sauron slowly turned away from them for a brief moment, and Gandalf's hat was blown to the ground in the rush of dark wind that soared from him. "You have no power here, wizard," Sauron hissed, in a sinister, ghostly undertone.

"And you lack the former power you once had, Sauron, O great Deceiver," Gandalf responded firmly, his voice clear. As he spoke, orcs slowed – almost as if in slow motion, but their swords were still pointed fiercely at Glorifindel and Legolas, who were struggling to wake Elladan and Elrohir. Krystal still remained in the trees.

A baleful, black smoke began to gather at Sauron's feet – it swept away from him, curling and unfurling, before wrapping itself around Gandalf's ankles. Gandalf's body had a quick spasm, his face flashing with pain as his body began to seize. "You cannot do this—"he muttered in a forced voice. "I will not allow it!" His voice rose into a sharp roar, and he slammed his staff into the ground. The smoke rushed out from his feet, forming a dark circle around the wizard, before rushing to the glowing orb on top. With a groan, Gandalf took a step forward, thrusting his staff at Sauron. Bright, white light – in a pure, material form spurted from the tip of the staff. It covered Sauron, dripping down from his head – he screamed, a hoarse screech that made the hairs on the back of Krystal's neck stand up— "It burns," he cried, "It burns—servants, seize him!"

Orcs rushed at Gandalf, but he waved his staff at them, and many of them dropped, dead. He wielded a long sword, pointing it directly at Sauron. "Go back to the shadows!"

But instead of retaliating, Sauron spun wildly – within two seconds, he had disappeared. A black, high-pitched shape screamed across the sky, high into the air before crashing down into the ground. And this time, he was holding an bow – pointed directly at Legolas and Elladan.

Krystal saw it coming before anyone else did, from her position hidden in the trees. And she started to run.

As she ran, flashes -- still images, almost mental photographs – past through her mind. Her first meeting with Legolas—the yellow eyes of the spiders—the endless miles of the wastelands—the first time she met the twins—Elrond's words of counsel—Elladan's face—Aragorn's laughter—their time in the village—Annore's words—their hasty flight back to Rivendell—her slow recovery—and this, this trip began to blend with faces. Elrohir's melted into Elladan's—Legolas's—Glorifindel—Elrond—Aragorn—Annore--Tharros—Riedel—Legolas—Elladan…

Legolas saw the arrow coming, knew it was coming fast enough to pierce both his and Elladan's hearts – it was aimed perfectly – he saw the dismay in Gandalf's face, heard Glorifindel howl, "NO!"

Krystal wasn't going to make it – she wasn't going to be able to push them out of the way – there was only one other choice—

She took a deep breath, still running, and closed her eyes. Subconciously, she knew what would happened, she still was still expecting the piercing bite of the arrow---

It never came. She dived, blocking Legolas and Elladan, winced; expecting the sting of the blade, the thuds of the ground rushing up to meet her--

But it never did. She opened her eyes, to see the arrow fly directly at her heart. But, amazingly, as the first tip of the blade cut through her skin, she saw a blazing, white light. The arrow itself had light, her body was aglow within—the word was spinning, but she didn't feel any pain—she saw the arrow dissolve into shimmering dust, falling to her feet— she could see her friend's faces—they seemed to be calling to her—"I'm alright," she called back, though terrified and confused. "I'm alright!"—her body was moving—if felt as though she was being ripped through time and space, her limbs were on fire—the light was growing hot—Faces spun, the world through her eyes began to shrink—

The last thing she saw was her friends faces and some, sixth, intuitive tense—"GOODBYE!" she yelled, and the first thing that came into her mind—"DON'T FORGET ME!"

she was falling backwards; she was spinning—bleeding—gasping—she couldn't breathe—she was flat on her back—it was growing dark—someone was calling her name--

Her eyes finally opened, and her mind spun. Everything was white—was she dead—no—she ached, but not from battle wounds…more from just regular muscle ache. Things swam before her eyes, and she blinked to steady her vision. Someone was leaning over her—Oh my god—

"Mom?"

"Krystal!" Her mom gasped, clutching her hand over her mouth. "Krystal, can you hear me? Oh, sweetie, you were missing for days—"

"Days?" Krystal asked groggily, trying to sit up. "Mom, where am I? What's going on, where's Lego—"

She was interrupted by a sandy haired man, in a white coat—a doctor, Krystal realized sluggishly. "She's bound to be a bit confused; she's suffered a concuion and several minor brusies." He was addressing her mother, but turned to talk to her now, his face gentle. "Krystal? Can you hear me?"

His voice was oddly far away and Krystal shook her head, confused. "I don't understand; Where's Ella—"

The doctor nodded, understandingly. "Yes, shh, it'll be okay."

Krystal threw up her hands, pissed off. "No, listen you moron, you're not listening—"

"Shhh," Her mother hissed furiously, then smiled charmingly at the doctor. "Can we have some time alone?"

The doctor smiled, nodding. Making a note on his clipboard, he turned and walked out of the room.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Do you always have to be so nasty Krystal?" she shook her head, fluffing her hair slightly. "Well, darling, we were so worried! Where were you all this time?!"

"All this time?" Krystal repeated dumbly, her eyes transfixed on something in her palm.

"Well, yea." Her mother replied. "You've been missing for a week! They found you in the woods near the hotel last night – did you get lost, sweetie? There was no sign of foul play—"

"A week," Krystal repeated, clutching her hands together tightly. "Only a week?"

She glanced down into her palm again. Clutched inside were two things, pressed tightly against her skin. A dull, arrow head – worn from time, but still shining, a dim white. The other item was a star—like the star that the twins of Elrond usually wore strapped to their brows. She closed her hand and shut her eyes. She wasn't crazy. It had happened.

Or did it?