Thanks, all, for the reviews! Thanks a gazillion times over to BerzerkerPrime for correcting my Elvish. I fear I'm a rather uneducated Hobbit. They don't teach Sindarin at the Bywater School for Wayward Hobbits, for some reason. Perhaps we should petition the school board about it. I'll get around to editing all my previous chapters to incorporate his suggestions, but the remaining new chapters will reflect the title change. Please don't hesitate to let me know about other errors you find!
I have to admit, I'm rather nervous about posting this chapter... I hope it's good!

I Sigil Dagnir
The Slayer Blade
Chapter Five

He found himself watching her again through the next day. She moved more easily in the daylight, as though a weight had been lifted from her. Aragorn tried to reconcile what he knew of her kind, the were, the man-wolf. The Werewolves of old, legendary creatures such as Draughin and Carcharoth were pure of blood of wolf and spirit of man. Draughin had been the root and sire of such evil in the world. But their lines had been weakened through the ages. The soul of man was no longer transformed solely to beast, but only walked under the earth under the moonlight in the shadows of darkness, continuing to pass on their line. Once afflicted, the bitten were doomed to death, for they were capable of doing great evil in the guise of the animal.

The words of Glorfindel's teachings came back to him. That werewolves must be destroyed, at all costs, for they knew not what evil they were capable of until the wolf-form took them, and then it would be too late. Aragorn steeled himself against the vision of a sweet-faced woman with bright green eyes and long braids. She was the wolf. She was the monster that Glorfindel warned of. She must not be allowed to live.

Still, Aragorn thought, he had been trusted to bring her to Minas Tirith, to the Steward of Gondor, who knew her nature. Who was he to disobey that order? Soldiers and prisoners under his command were his responsibility. And so his thoughts went on through day, until evening fell into night. At last, when the camp slept, he approached Amali.

"Tell me what I must do." He said calmly.

Her voice was low. "You must get me away from the others, into the woods. Far from anyone. Then, when I am bound, and make...the change." She hesitated as though the word stuck in her mouth. "You must watch and see that the bonds hold."

He nodded. "Understand. I do this because you are my responsibility. It is for my Lord Steward to take your life."

Wearily, she leaned back, pulling her cloak about her. "My life is already taken. It is for the Steward to end it at last."

The days passed too quickly, and Aragorn had little time to ponder how he would get her away from the others. Soon enough, he saw that she had discovered a way. Or else she was already becoming the beast, and could not help herself. That morning, when Timpson got the prisoners in line, she glared insolently at him. When he passed the water skin to her, she bluntly told him that she was not a serving wench and to water the others himself. And so it went through the day, as Timpson's anger grew with her insults.

Aragorn called an early halt to the day, not wanting to risk coming too close to the rising moon. Timpson took the water to the prisoners and gave the bag to Amali. "Pass it out."

She did, stomping down the line and returning to thrust the bag at him.

"Settle down, girl!" He warned and Aragorn had moved close enough to hear her retort.

"Settle down yourself, Ranger-Man!"

Timpson had it. His hand swung back but before he could lower it, Aragorn caught his wrist. "Go on, Timpson. I'll handle this."

Then he barked to Amali. "Grab your bag, girl! It's high time someone taught you some manners!"

She obeyed instantly, not needing to fake the expression of fear that shot across her features. Aragorn could be formidable when the occasion called for it.

Grabbing her arm he dragged her angrily into the bushes. They had gone aways into the woods when he stopped, and they faced each other, smiling.

"You planned that well." He said with a chuckle. "I had not yet sorted out how I was going to get you away."

She laughed lightly, then glanced nervously at the eastern sky. "There is not much time, Captain, Sir."

"Quickly! Find a solid tree." Amali tilted the contents of her bag onto the ground, and began to strip out of her clothing.

Aragorn found a strong oak tree, its width that of three men together. "Here!" He called her, and she came to his side, naked, already buckling the metal collar about her throat.

"The leg cuff, if you please, Captain, Sir?"

He obliged, locking the cuff and looping the chain through it. She slipped the muzzle over her head and tightened the straps as he chained her to the tree, much as he would a prisoner to a standing post. He felt her jerk and glanced up, concerned that they had miss-timed and the transformation had come. She had stooped down to lift something from her bag and was holding it out to him. He took it into his hands and gazed at it in wonder.

It was a long dagger of Elven make. Its sheath was covered with runes of protection and when he slid the blade out a bit it shone in the moonlight.

"That is a Slayer Blade. It has but one purpose." Her voice was low and calm. "That purpose is my death. Captain, if you must use this blade, know that I shall remain the wolf until you take my life. There will be no healing."

He nodded and slid the blade back into the sheath. Once more he checked that the chains were locked and the collar and muzzle secure before he stepped back from her, beneath the dark trees. She hunkered down on her heels and looked up at him through the steel cage that covered her face. Together, silent, they waited.

Aragorn did not know what he had expected. Screaming torment, or a prolonged transformation that tortured body and soul, perhaps. Instead, weary from staring into the deepening dusk, he blinked his eyes. In that blink Amali was gone. A black wolf, it's eyes glowing green and fierce above the muzzle, snarled at him from the darkness. It tried to bark, but the muzzle inhibited it, so it settled for growling and snarling as it paced in a tight circle around the tree.

Suddenly, Aragorn became aware of a heat at his side, and looked to the dagger. Sliding it from its sheath, he was welcomed to a soft yellow glow, as moonlight on the still surface of a lake. It was a comfort, warming in its glow, as it recognized its prey and held itself close to it's handler in anticipation of battle. Thoughtfully, Aragorn stroked the ancient weapon. He was familiar with weapons of Elven make, but few so fine or special had ever been forged. "Patience, friend." He murmured to it softly, "Perhaps we shall come to the end of this night without need of your edge."

Later, Aragorn would recall it as a good night. The wolf snarled and growled its hatred of all things living as it lunged to the end of its short chain time and again. Yet the fragrance of Ithilien was sweet on the summer night and the Elven blade glowed, warm and soft in his hand. The moon shone through the leaves and although the forest creatures of the night did not come near, for they could sense the presence of the beast, it was an ordinary forest night with leaves rustling and weeping in the breeze, and the distant hoots of the owls as they hunted across the wood.

Aragorn drowsed lightly, alert to any change in the sound of Amali's movements. For this was Amali, he had to remind himself firmly. She was the beast and he must remain alert to her.

Yet the moment came near dawn when he blinked, and there was only a girl, naked and wrapped in chains, weeping in misery on the forest floor. Quietly, he stood and went to her side, sheathing the blade and tossing it to where her bag lay. Gently, he unbuckled the muzzle and lifted it from her head. Next, the collar and the leg cuff joined the pile on the forest floor. He wrapped his own cloak about her.

She pushed his hands away, dashing her tears away with the back of her hand. "Do not concern yourself, Captain, Sir. I am well enough."

He stood back from her and turned his back while she dressed quickly. Surprisingly, there was no bruising around her neck where she had thrown herself against the collar. The only signs of her ordeal were the tear tracks on her cheeks and the wildly flying hair that trailed about her face and shoulders.

Silently, they returned to where the others still slept.

When Timpson, standing guard, approached them, the tear stained face and reddened eyes of the prisoner convinced him of the efficiency of whatever punishment his captain had deemed fit. His gaze met Aragorn's over her head, but the Captain merely shrugged wearily.

Confidentially, he said to Timpson, "I do not think she will be so hasty to give insult again."

Indeed, she seemed a changed woman, quiet and docile, yet Timpson did not approach her again for the distribution of the food. Amed took the duty seriously enough despite his age. If Timpson wondered in the following days what had transpired between the girl and his Captain, he never mentioned it, and neither did Aragorn.

In four more days they came to Minas Tirith. Amali had not spoken to Aragorn, nor he to her. However, when the other prisoners were taken by escort to the dungeons and gaol cells to await judgment, Aragorn personally escorted her to her cell. Inside the bare stone cubicle, she stood with her back against the wall and faced him, her features shadowed in the darkness of the cell.

"Farewell, Captain, Sir." She said softly. "Thank you for your kindness."

He nodded and began to turn away before she could see his regret and misconstrue it. However he found he could not leave it at that and returned to her side, laying his hand over his chest. "Go in peace, Amali, daughter of Amsess."

Her green eyes met his steel grey gaze steadily, although her lip quivered. "I shall not forget your kindness, Captain, Sir."

He left then, striding down the hallway and out into the open sunlight. It was not long before he would leave Minas Tirith, his life taking him along unexpected pathways and through other experiences as strange, as mysterious, and as unusual as those he had faced beneath the leaves of Ithilien.