A/N: I'm pretty much going by the movie because its been so long since I read the books that I don't remember a lot of it (I think I read the first one between my fifth and sixth grade years, lol! Talk about hard!). But I have read the books. I do have some knowledge of Tolkien's world outside of Peter Jackson's movies.

Blood. She couldn't stand the sight of blood. It brought back memories. Memories still slightly fresh in her mind. Memories of the day when she had committed a terrible act that would haunt her forever. Blood memories that stained her mind the way the crimson liquid had stained the grass on the plains of Rohan, in the distance between Edoras and Fangorn.

It brought back pictures too. Pictures of dead eyes that stared into the vast emptiness. Pictures of eyes that would never truly see again. Pictures of the eyes that had struck fear into her heart, like a cold knife slicing right into her.

"I need some more bandages!"

Threwen heard a voice. Everything had grown dim in the last few moments. Her eyes were closed, but it wasn't black. She was seeing a drab shade of grey, like mist, a cloud in front of her vision. She felt something in her shoulder but for some reason her brain wasn't working straight and she couldn't place the word to describe it. The last thing she remembered comprehending was the sight of blood, covering her hand and her shoulder, seeing the fear and confusion in Ruthiel's eyes, the feeling of dread rushing through her, and then finding herself there, in the dark fog of her mind.

Another voice was heard. "We have no more." It was a male voice, Threwen knew that. She felt like she knew it from somewhere but now it seemed like another lifetime.

"Then tear up this!"

She heard a faint noise…what was it? Oh yes, ripping. It was slightly familiar and therefore her mind registered it. It was the ripping of fabric.

What's that?

She could've sworn she had heard something. She felt a change and now realized the sounds of what was going on around her had faded and she was in that place in her mind, the grey place, all shrouded in haze and darkness. She was standing up, a strange feeling of cold going through her. A shiver.

Where am I? she asked herself.

"Yes, where are you?"

Threwen whirled at the sound of someone behind her. She stumbled backward at the sight, lost her balance, and fumbled to the ground, a look of shock passing over her features. "No…"

An evil smile and a glint in those dark eyes were clearly visible to her, even in the murkiness. "Where are you, Threwen? You asked yourself that. Don't you remember? You didn't know where you were or who you were. Until I found you."

She shook her head, pulling herself away from the vision before her. This can't be real. Just close your eyes. Don't let him in your head. She obeyed her own orders and closed her eyes for a moment. Just take a deep breath and think. Don't let him mess with you. Don't…

The eyes flew open. Pain. That sensation which feels almost like a thousand needles shooting through you was now being felt. It was like daggers going through her whole left side. It was horribly obvious what was going on. Threwen clutched her shoulder and cried out. It burned and yet froze at the same time. It was like a horrible weight was pressing down on her. She bit her lip, trying to hold it in, but then everything came out in a gasp. She looked up at him and tried to scoot away but this did little. She was helpless.

He stepped toward her, a towering figure. He paused for a moment before her cowering form and then stooped down, a look of pure evil on his face. "Until I found you," he whispered menacingly.

Threwen took one look in those eyes, those black eyes, and something welled up from within her. Rage. She gathered all her strength and did something that caught the mysterious figure completely off guard. With one swift motion she kicked him across the face, causing him to reel back from his crouched position. She pulled herself to her feet, her hand still clutching the spot on her arm from which emanated excruciating pain. Her breathing was ragged.

"Get away from me, sorcerer. You won't ensnare me again with your mind tricks. I won't bend!" Despite how much it pained her, the blonde lifted her chin up, showing him the look of defiance in her eye.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, seeing a slight trickle of blood there. He pulled himself up from the ground. "Sorcerer? You think me a sorcerer?" Suddenly his tone grew louder, his voice more menacing. He straightened himself to his full height. "I am more than that, small one. I am one of the Istari. You cannot challenge me!" He glared down at her. "I am Saruman!"

Threwen tried her best at courage but at this specter it was hard to keep up her determination. She felt like she was going to collapse. Her whole arm and the entire left side of her chest felt like they were on fire and her breathing was coming out in pants. She tried to back away, but he kept advancing.

For a split second Threwen noticed the thing that had bothered her so long ago was apparent once again. This image she saw before her, whether possibly produced by her own mind or the workings of something darker, was the wizard clothed in all white. White, so pure a color, like clean snow, was such a sharp contrast to what this man, this thing, really stood for. The spotlessness of his robes did not fit his character of corruptness. So tainted by evil it was offensive how he still wore the color. She felt like he was insulting all that was good about the wizards, like Gandalf, by still calling himself one of the Istari, by still considering himself Saruman the White, the head of their order.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. Fear. There was still fear, coursing, rushing, surging. It was all through her. She was in a nightmare. But there was something else, something that exists when there's fear present but determination to overcome it. It becomes a stronger thing than fear.

Courage.

"I am Saruman!" The phrase still echoed through the place, as if there were dozens of others mimicking it.

Threwen glanced into the eyes, the sinister eyes. "And I am Threwen. And I am afraid of you." She made note of how that caused a curious response. But she continued. "But that doesn't mean I can't beat you."

Rannyn looked out from behind the wall. There was the flicker of torches nearing, the light glinting off the tall spears. There was a low rumbling sound, the very ground lightly vibrating at the pounding of ten thousand heavy feet marching toward the keep. The blonde ran a hand through his hair one last time and then put his helmet on. It was starting to rain. There was tension in the air. The king was ready. The troops were ready. There was only one thing left. And now it had come.

They're here.

End Note: Well there you are. Hope ya'll liked it. Reviews would be much appreciated. Stick around for the next chapter. I'm pretty sure the battle will start in the next one. Mwuhaha.