Disclaimer: If I owned any of this "Lord of the Rings" stuff, I wouldn't be sitting here, writing fanfiction. I own Arwith. Steal her for your own use, and I'll send small, furry animals to eat your socks.
A second thank you to teinesamoa for her review. Thank you to Calico Cat for her two reviews. CC, I'm sure Cally Christine knows who she is too. And thank you to lindahoyland for her short-and-sweet review. (I loved writing Chapter 5!)
Also- a little something for myself- I would like to make a late announcement about my second fic. It's new, it's finished, and according to everyone that's read it, it's funny too.
"My, this is a change." Sam sat in his chair, surrounded by the other hobbits. "The last time there was a secret council of some sort, we weren't invited." They sat on the large, rounded balcony waiting anxiously for Gandalf. Legolas sat calmly watching Gimli pace back and forth. Aragorn, who had not said much since the search party's return four hours previously, stood waiting patiently by the entrance with Faramir.
"Aragorn," Pippin began slowly, "why were we asked to come to this meeting?" Aragorn turned to look at him, aware that the others were listening for what he would say. "Gandalf thought that, this time, the matter would concern you."
"It's just as well, really." Everyone turned to stare curiously at Gimli. "Well, it's true," the dwarf lord continued, aware that he had the stage. "They could either be here in person and get the facts straight, or they'll listen in, uninvited, and surprise us by popping out of the woodwork when we're finished." Frodo shook his head and snickered while the three remaining hobbits sat grinning. Sam looked slightly abashed. Pippin looked pleased. Merry was struggling between looking embarrassed and looking proud at the same time, resulting in a rather comical expression that somehow still managed to get the point across.
Gandalf walked in several minutes later followed by three guards, one of whom held a large, heavy bag. Aragorn took the sack from him and the three guards left after announcing that they would be standing outside the door if they were needed.
Everyone but Aragorn and Faramir sat as he walked to the middle of the ring holding the sack with both hands. "Well?" Gimli asked. "Where is he?" Gandalf motioned to the bag.
"In there?" Pippin asked as his brows merged with his bangs. "You carried them here in a sack?" Gandalf sighed and looked as though he would rather not think about it. "We've tried already to extricate him, but it resulted only in chaos. Three of the volunteers are in the infirmary with minor cuts and scrapes, another two have rather vicious bite marks on their arms, and at least one other is complaining of a headache and is having difficulty seeing through his right eye." Pippin stared at Gandalf. "... In a sack?!" Gimli chuckled as Gandalf grumbled something dealing with hobbits, fools, and rocks.
The atmosphere grew quickly grave as Aragorn began to untie the knot in the bag. As the bag opened at the top, Faramir stood with his sword at the ready. Everyone tensed as Aragorn actually began to pick the bag up and turn it upside down. What at first resembled a pile of cloaks slid smoothly onto the floor. The large heap however began to slowly rise. It was like watching a child play with clothes that were too big for him. The growing stopped with the thing itself only about three feet high and the multitude of clothing puddling around its base. Its head was bent down and the hood was up, hiding its face. Aragorn and Faramir edged slowly in front of it. Using the flat of his blade, Aragorn tipped the person's head up so that it faced forward and the hood fell.
No one knew what to do, say, or think. No one even moved. All they could do was stare.
The person sitting in front of them was not a man, as they had thought. It was a young woman. Her face was as white as snow, with a delicate nose and mouth set in place. Her eyes almost seemed too large for her face. They were gray, but so pale that they resembled a full moon. Her brows and lashes were thick and black, but they were delicate enough that they didn't overwhelm her face. It would have been an attractive face had the expression upon it not been so utterly emotionless.
Stranger still than her face was her hair. It was straight and came just past her shoulders. It was a dark brown, almost black, and closely resembled the bark of a black cherry tree. There were many patches in it that were red, orange, and yellow, giving it a unique fire affect.
The strangest thing, however, were her ears. They stuck out through her hair. They pointed, yet not in the way of the elves. They looked as though they were those of an animal, perhaps of a fox or of a cat.
Everyone was silent as they took in the strange sight before them. There was nothing to be said. Frodo and Sam shuddered slightly in horror and disgust at the sight of her eyes; they were so like Gollum's. She never moved, or changed her expression, or even blinked. She merely sat, staring eerily ahead. It was as if she were a porcelain doll and not a living, breathing being.
Gandalf was the first to move. He strode over to face her. He stood in front this strange girl. "You are in the realm of Gondor, in the city of Minas Tirith. I am Gandalf the White, and this," Gandalf gestured to Aragorn, "is Aragorn, King of Men. Who are you, and from where do you come? What is your purpose in Gondor?"
The spectral-like woman before him turned her eyes slowly to stare creepily at him. She did not change her expression and she did not speak. Gandalf continued, this time more forcibly. "Who are you? From where did you come? What is your purpose here?" His voice lowered. "Are you what's causing the orcs' uprising?"
The odd creature turned her head slowly, her eyes ever fixed on Gandalf. And still, the wizard's inquiries were met with silence. Gandalf was obviously growing weary of asking without someone answering. He raised his voice, sounding terrible and formidable. "WHO ARE YOU? DO YOU MAKE YOUR ALLIANCE WITH SAURON?"
Whatever reaction Gandalf was expecting, it was certainly not the one he received. The girl's head lowered, her brows furrowed, and her eyes narrowed, giving them a slit, feline appearance. The combination made obvious her acrimonious view of the current situation. She tucked her chin into her neck, closed her eyes, and took a deep, heavy breath. She breathing became strong and focused as though she was concentrating intensively on something. Gandalf was not the alone in leaning forward, interested in what was happening. The girl took a deeper breath than before and held, lifting her head so that it faced ahead. Her eyes were still closed. Everyone leaned in closer.
The young woman's eyes snapped opened suddenly, but were not the same. They no longer had their original lunar quality. They were something entirely different. They were now reminiscent of Sauron's lidless eye. Large eyes, glazed yellow like a cat's, engulfed in fire; the slits were windows into nothingness. The assembly all jerked back in surprise and horror. The woman had curled back her lips, honed fangs once again exposed in aggression. She growled loudly and swerved her head in all directions, looking deeply into every pair of frightened and startled eyes. All who met her gaze turned away, unable to hold her stare for any extended period of time. She hesitated and stared more intensely when she reached Gandalf and Aragorn, in whom she seemed to take particular interest. She lastly held her stare with Frodo and Pippin. Either one of them held her gaze longer than the others, but looked as though they were in excruciating pain.
When Pippin, then Frodo finally wrenched their eyes shut, the girl ceased her horrid growl and put her white lips together. Her wrathful expression eased to one of apathetic disdain, Sauron's eyes still masking her own. She closed her eyes and let her head hang.
When she lifted it once more, her orbs had their previous silver glow and her face was again unagitated and statue-like. All were silent while they stared incredibly at the seemingly unelaborated individual that stood in their midst.
Faramir was the first to recover his senses and banged once on the door with his fist, his eyes still fixed on the girl while the sentries ran onto the balcony. At a wave of their king's hand, they took the young woman and dragged her away. She never resisted, spoke, or even moved during the entire, seventeen-second process. Nor did any one else.
"What was that?" Faramir asked. "What just happened?" Sam and Merry were speaking quietly to Frodo and Pippin, who looked thoroughly shaken. Legolas had paled. Aragorn sat in unearthly silence. Gandalf had returned to his seat and looked as tired as anyone his age should be. Gimli was silent for a moment when he suddenly exclaimed, "I think it can safely be said that that woman is in league with Sauron." Gandalf sighed heavily. "Yes, master dwarf. I think we can be certain of that."