A/N: Thanks to everyone backing this story! The next chapter will be along shortly – sorry for the delay.

Shadows

Chapter 4 – Through the Fog

Strider opened his eyes cautiously and shifted his grip on his sword. The fire he had lit for himself had long burned out while he had slept and he awoke in gloom. The thick fog that had carpeted the forest's floor had thickened dramatically and now he was completely enveloped in it. It clung to him with a bitter coldness that reached to his bones.

Wearily the ranger pulled himself up and searched for his tinderbox, he couldn't find it. Normally it would have been secure in his pack but it was missing – he cursed the elf-girl for that. He took a blind step forward and stumbled on something invisible in the fog – he fell and cracked the side of his head on a rock, he could feel the warmth of his blood trickle down the side of his face and taste the bitterness of it in his mouth.

He searched the ground with his hands for his pack again but that too had disappeared into the thick, heavy blanket. He stopped groping blindly and drew his hands back to his body and once again took a grip on the reassuring hilt of his father's sword.

Strider's eyes drooped but he struggled against his fatigue, ever since he had first took into this forest he had felt somehow drained – and now, though he had no proof to support his accusation, he blamed Aurëil. The elf-girl had not returned to him since he had awoken after a nightmare to find her bearing greedily down on him, that had been three days ago and she had melted into the forest as quickly as she had appeared to him. However, when the ranger was quiet and some manner of peace returned to him he would sometimes hear her soft voice singing on the frigid breeze. It was a noise that haunted him.

Another, much different noise to his left bought him immediately out of his sluggishness; it was a low growl that he instantly recognized as that of a warg. Despite his inability to see much more than a foot in front of his own face the ranger was on his feet with his sword in both hands ready to fend off the unseen creature – without the aid of fire or indeed sight this would be no easy task.

A second growl from behind him spun Strider around; his sword held at arm's length. There were two of them, in the openness of Eregion two wargs would have not posed much of a threat to the ranger but here in the darkness of this wretched forest things would be different.

He thought he saw a pair of gleaming eyes ahead of him but they disappeared into the white swirling fog as quickly as he had seen them. His ears pricked as he heard movement to his right, another warg; that made three – probably more; probably a pack that had strayed into the forest and had been snared here like him.

Suddenly they howled into the night, their long, high pitched voices breaking through the fog where it chilled the ranger to the bone. Something brushed past him and he turned and lunged with his sword – it snagged uselessly on the leaf-ridden ground, when he turned again he turned straight into the face of one of his invisible stalkers – a warg, bigger than any other the well-traveled ranger had seen, its great shaggy head high enough to look him in they eye. The brute snarled and Strider felt the hot, sticky breath on his face, slowly he reached for his sword to thrust it into the monster's throat, but it moved quickly and pinned him to the ground with astonishing strength. Its claws raked across his chest, slicing his tunic and cutting his flesh.

Strider closed his eyes, knowing the end had come for him, to the halls of his fathers he would soon travel. His last thoughts swept past his eyes in a string of images; his elven brothers, his friend, Legolas, his father Elrond, his mother and finally Arwen – his love, her thin, pale face more beautiful and sad than the moon, her river of long, black hair that fell to the small of her back, her slender hands that touched him with a love he would never experience elsewhere…

"Who is she?"

Strider's eyes snapped open as the familiar voice intruded on his thoughts; Aurëil was standing above him, her small face almost mirroring the one he had just been thinking of.

"She reminds me of my naneth; who is she?" she asked again. Strider didn't answer but leapt up, both hands securely round the girl's thin shoulders, he looked round quickly for the wargs, drawing the girl close to him as though to protect her – but then he remembered his suspicions and pushed her away.

"What are you doing to me?" he cried, fumbling for his sword again.

"Who is the lady in your dreams?" asked the girl for a third time in her sad, cold voice.

"Answer me, she-elf!"

Aurëil said nothing but moved forwards towards him, she was stopped on the point of his sword. "Would you kill me, Aragorn?" she asked, placing a thin finger on the blade; the ranger was shocked to see a point of frost appear where her finger touched.

Strider silently shook his head and carefully lowered the sword, he remembered the wargs and looked around again, "Where did - ?"

The elfling touched his hand, "They will not return," she smiled up at him, "until they are called,"

"By whom?" the ranger knelt to look the girl in the eye,

"Me." She replied calmly, to Strider's surprise.

"You?" he replied slowly, "But – ", again Aurëil stopped him before he could finish, "Do not concern yourself with such things, child, they are beyond your comprehension at this time," she laughed with her sweet laugh but the words had come scornfully.

Strider had taken a small step backwards, away from the girl until she was barely visible through the fog; she seemed different to him, somehow – much more menacing, more dangerous. He gripped his sword until his bones showed white through his hand – if needs be he would slay the little sorceress; it would not be the first time he would have had to kill a child…

Nigh on three years, in the wastes of Rhudaur, just north of his father's haven. After tracking a band of orcs for five days and nights he came across their foul grovel. Littered with rotting corpses, half-eaten creatures…the smell was nauseating…

The orcs were killed in the ambush and their foul bodies burned.

He had searched deeper into their lair – into their dark pits where they practiced their cruelty; cells were filled with half-alive things…men, elves, dwarves – even orcs, subjected to their own kin's spite.

But it was in the deepest, darkest hole where he had found him. A boy – hardly out of childhood – bound to a stake; marks of torture, of consumption and rape were vivid on his frail body. His eyes were lost to the rank fingers of the orcs and his face was crusted with blood.

He had gone to the child and tried to comfort him – but there could be no condolence for this tainted spirit and all he begged for was release from the pain.

And he was given it swiftly…

Strider blinked and tried to remain focused, the girl was still before him, smiling. The ranger shuddered but still held her gaze. "You have suffered much, child," she said calmly stepping around the man's raised blade, "But tell me, for I wish to know, who is the lady in your thoughts?"

Strider fixed her with a hard gaze and gave in, "She is Arwen Undomiel, fairest of all the First-born – even more so than Luthien herself, and I am bound to her…"

The small girl said nothing for a time, her eyelids fluttering as she thought, "Her sire is the Peredhil?" she asked suddenly.

Strider answered cautiously, not knowing where this conversation about Arwen and his foster-father would take him.

Aurëil frowned slightly in thought and looked back up at Strider, her small, thin face worried: "He knows of the Peredhil," she said nervously,

"Who? Many people know of my ada," asked the ranger, surprised to see such fear in her face.

"He does, He, knows everything…" she said shuddering, her dark eyes now darting about the fog; Strider could tell something was wrong. He knelt to her and brushed her hair away from her face, "Who is this 'He', Aurëil?" he asked

The elfling opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head worriedly.

"Who is this person you speak of?" Strider shook her slightly, taking advantage of her state to claim some long-needed answers.

"I cannot say! He will know…He always knows…"

Strider took hold of her face and asked again, not heeding her fear.

"No! Please…" the elfling began to weep into the man's hands, "He will hurt me if He finds out…"

"I will protect you from him, Aurëil, just tell me!" the ranger urged,

"Not from Him, not from the one who has kept me here, the one who took away my right to feel, the one who bought Shadow upon these woods…" the girl sobbed, her face changed with fear.

"Who, who is this person?"

Aurëil stopped crying suddenly and removed Strider's hands from her face, she looked at him hardly, "He calls me back – I must go." She turned, her hair flowing behind her.

"No! Wait! Who? Who is this you speak of? Tell me!" Strider started after the girl but stopped when she turned slowly: "The Fatherless one…" she whispered and disappeared into the fog…

TBC