Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's creations and only lay claim to my own humble creatures.

Chapter Thirty-Two

No Answers

Five Years Previous

Somewhere in Mirkwood

Talorta galloped madly through the forest until the shouts of the elven warriors were only a faint murmur long behind us. The pain blinded my eyes, the rain stung my face. I was covered in not only my blood, but the blood of the elven children, the men, the women...of Mirlaic...and of Caden. All of them. And somehow...it was all my fault. That knowledge stung worse then any wound, festering inside of me...threatening to tear me to pieces. I couldn't breathe...could live with myself. And now the arrow wound was becoming too much to bear. I knew I was losing strength and I also knew I would die here, now, this day.

Or was it night? The images were becoming dulled in my mind I could see nor understand anything. Only that I was dying...and that this would be the end. Talorta darted through the trees as I sunk farther onto his neck, clutching his mane and letting my body sway to the rhythmic movement of his body, of his legs pounding the earth. Caden's sword was clutched weakly in my hand, his words echoing dimly in my mind.

Talorta suddenly tripped, his body tipping forward onto his knees and I cried out in utter agony as I toppled from his back and slammed into a tree. A light flashed before my eyes as the pain erupted up and down my body like fire. Caden's sword flew from my grasp and I heard Talorta whinny. I heard his hooves tearing up the earth as he ran on. Leaving me, bleeding and wounded, alone in the wood.

Present

It was strange, leaving his home once more in such a short period of time. The preparations for the hunt were made within the day and the following morning, Legolas, Aragorn, and a party of five other warriors said their farewells, mounted their elvish horses, and set off into the forest. It was dreary and misty out as they rode under the thick canopy of trees. The forest was silent. Aragorn rode easily on a beautiful bay mare while Legolas sat astride Arod.

It was strange indeed, for he was not really leaving home. And at the same time, it would be so easy for him not to return. Whatever had taken down his warriors at Saronedhel's execution would not...could not find any match at such a small party of defenders...no matter how well armed or skilled. The ghost had taken down eighteen of his finest warriors...she was dangerous. Yet he wondered, why had the ghost let Saronedhel go? The prisoner had been wounded, a convicted woman, had even been at the point of death.

His people said the attacker had been Gwenél, that the ghostly maiden had struck once more. There was every indication that this was the case. The warriors had been infected with the same illness as those as the former victims of the ghost. Yet...did he really believe in such a legend? And why had she shown mercy to a murderer? Saronedhel's body had not been found among those of the warriors and her blood had been found among the foliage surrounding the clearing...leading south into the woods.

Strange hoofmarks had dug into the ground...but no one had had the chance to track them. It had rained...and even through the thick leafy tops, the rain had washed away all signs of the struggle. Their hunt was now like searching for a needle in a haystack It was chilly out, already late October. Hints of the coming winter were evident in the dropping temperature and the growing deadness of the trees. Legolas pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders. He was dressed in a black tunic, his leggings a dark, hunter green. Woven into both articles of clothing were soft shades of leaves in silver.

His bow and arrow were strapped to his back and his twin knives were tucked in his cloth boots. Both of which came up almost to his knees. Aragorn, who rode just behind him as the foliage grew more thickly around the path. His friend's garb was a simple black and dark blue tunic and leggings. His sword, Andúril, was strapped to his saddle. The human's sharp eyes were searching the ground as they rode on and, before very long, they reached the clearing where the warriors had been found. It was getting dark, the days were already becoming shorter.

Legolas looked back at Aragorn, their eyes met and Aragorn tilted his head to the ground. "Dismount?" He asked, his voice low and his grey eyes sparkling. It had been so long since they had gone hunting together. It would have almost been like old times if not for the seriousness of the their situation. Legolas nodded and slid gracefully off the Arod's back. The grey horse bobbed his head and whinnied softly as the previous events which had taken place. The earth was still damp, a reminder of the recent rain, the branches of the trees and bushes hung low, heavily laiden with the dripping water.

A stream rushed along noisily nearby but, frustratingly, there were no signs that anything had taken place here. Legolas shook his head in irritation, glancing around the interior of the forest. "Nothing." He observed aloud. "We are too late."

Aragorn grunted in reply, squinting as he looked up into the gathering darkness. "Perhaps we should make camp for the night." He said. Legolas turned to look at him and Aragorn met his inquiring gaze. "I know that I will not find much at night, my eyes are not sharp enough and I'm getting older in years." He smiled wryly. "But I think it will be difficult for even you to discover anything, the darkness seems to be even darker of late. I sense a foulness here that I do not like."

"I agree with Lord Aragorn my Price." Said one of the guards behind them. Legolas glanced back at the elf, who, still mounted, was looking up into the leafy canopy in growing discomfort.

Legolas nodded in agreement. "Then we shall make camp. We'll start again with the sun's rising."

"Either way." Aragorn continued. "We're giving her what she wants."

"What is that?" Legolas asked in surprise.

Aragorn grinned. "We're fresh meat."

With the horses tethered and camp pitched, Aragorn set about to making a fire and two of the guards had gone hunting while the others took care of the horses and gathered brush for firewood. Legolas stood on the edge of the clearing, looking southernly into the depths of the forest. It was all too eery...no tracks, no blood. It was almost as if nothing had ever happened here. Like nothing would ever happen. How could Saronedhel have escaped? She had been wounded, he had seen so himself. He had watched her struggle to move, to sometimes, even just to speak. How could a mere mortal have survived an encounter with so deadly a foe if every single one of his warriors had fallen?

None of the puzzle fit together. He turned as he caught the aroma of venison drifting over to him as the fire burned brighter. He blinked in surprise, how long had he been standing there? He heard Aragorn's unusually soft tread approaching him with ease.

"Supper is cooking." He said. "You should come eat, we need to discuss our next plan of action."

Aragorn was at his side now, the grey eyes mirroring his own. "Isn't it strange that we have found nothing?" Legolas mused aloud. "Isn't it strange that we can find nothing of our quarry?"

Aragorn's brow knitted, his eyes drifting toward the forest as if deep in thought. "The darkness may have concealed clues we might have otherwise discovered. We will discover more with the new dawn." The shadow from the fire danced upon his face, the flames flickering in his eyes.

His friend's reasoning sounded valid, even though Legolas was developing a sinking feeling that he would not find any of the answers he was hoping to seek in this place. "Sounds good." He answered. "Our choices have dwindled, and this mystery is starting to feel like it is not suppose to have an end."

Aragorn nodded, met his gaze once more and tilted his head towards the fire. "Come eat." He said, a soft smile appearing on his face. "The venison is ready."

Five Years Previous

"Is this what you were telling me about my friend?" An old weary voice entered into my thoughts as I started to wake. Oh God please don't let me wake up. Please... But it was too late. The pain came in tidal waves, blacking out my consciousness and dimming my mind. I wanted to scream, but I was choking on something...was it...blood...? I groaned and I laid still, unable to open my eyes.

"Shh..." I head the voice again. "Shh..." There was a hand on my forehead, an old gnarled hand. I heard hooves sinking into the dirt by my head, I heard a horse snort.

"Talorta?" I whispered, forcing my eyes open and looking up into the dull light. It was still raining, and I blinked as the water fell into my eyes. There was something hot...running down my face...mixing with the rain in my eyes. My vision swam as the figure hunched over me, brushing my wet locks away from my face. He...or what sounded like a he...was clothed in a dark cloak, the hood of which concealed his features.

"Is that your friend?" He asked. But I could not answer. "You seem to be in a bad way." He said gently, his hands probing my various wounds. The light entered my eyes again as he came to my side. A blast of pain filled my mind and I called out in agony, choking on the hot liquid inside of me. I couldn't breathe, the pain was too great as he started to speak frantically.

"Where do you come from? What is your name?"

But it was too late...I was already gone.

If you haven't figured it out, all the flashbacks are from right after Victoria rides away from the village after the warriors find her standing above Caden's body. The mystery is starting to unfold, but don't get comfortable...get ready for a ride. :)

I'm not insulted about anyone who loses interest in this story...don't worry...I was for a little while too. :) But miraculously, I have gained inspiration and writing this story has become so much easier...now I'm just transferring all my writing onto my computer. So, never fear! I will never hate any of you if you don't like this story anymore, but I do have every intention of finishing it. :)

Thanks to all who reviewed and most especially to Kiann for betating. :)

TO BE CONTINUED...