A/N: Next one.

Cerrarien looked around her. Things had gone deathly quiet in the caves. The rumbling had now grown into a dull roar coming from somewhere outside, like a great giant was stomping around, trying to make Helm's Deep come crashing down just by the shaking the earth. The army, the enemy had come and the people were scared. She was scared. And now this young woman, the love of the man who had helped her brother, was laying on the ground, her shoulder still bleeding, her brow furrowed. She glanced at her sister-in-law.

"What's going on?" The young 16-year-old gazed down at the other blonde's face. Her lips were moving, like she was whispering, but no sound came out.

Ruthiel wiped her arm across her forehead, her face grim. She had gotten the bleeding to slow and it looked like it was going to stop soon, but the woman's expression still looked serious, rather than relieved. "I think it's infected."

Cerrarien's eyes widened. She knew of stories of men dying from infectivity that polluted the body from wounds gotten in battle. Some had limbs chopped off before the end, an attempt by those tending them to stop the infection from taking over. She shuddered. "Is she going to die?"

The woman just shook her head, not as a response but as a show of her uncertainty. "I don't know. It hit her so fast. Its unnatural." She placed a hand on unconscious woman's forehead. "She doesn't have a fever. In fact she feels a bit clammy. But there's no other way to explain it. It just started to bleed, almost as if…"

Caraedry looked at his wife. He had gone to get some water for them and had returned to hear her diagnosis. "Almost as if…what?"

Ruthiel sighed. "Almost as if someone punched her in the shoulder. It's like someone had done something to it. I don't…I don't understand it."

"Could it be poison?" her husband asked.

"I don't think so. Why would someone want to poison her? How could someone poison her?" The woman just stared down at Threwen, a frustrated expression etched on her face. "I don't understand…" she whispered.

Caraedry put his arm around her. "It's okay. It looks like you've gotten the bleeding to stop and she seems to be a little more peaceful. We'll just keep watch. How is her breathing?"

Ruthiel rubbed the back of her neck. "It's still rather shallow but slightly more stable. A little while ago she gasped and then her breathing got more ragged, like she had fallen or someone had hurt her arm again or…I don't know. It's all so strange."

Caraedry put a hand on her shoulder. "Ssh, just be calm. You need to rest for a moment."

She turned to look at her husband. "Be calm? Rest? Take a look around you, Caraedry. There is an army out there, a battle about to happen. And here is Threwen, fighting a battle of her own. And you ask me to rest?"

Cerrarien watched the two, both of them with slightly hopeless expressions. She couldn't help wondering if they would last the night. It all seemed too bleak, like they were only waiting for their doom to come upon them, in the form of the Uruk-hai. Threwen had explained the difference between Uruk-hai and orcs to her, before the episode with her arm. The young woman had seemed to know a lot about them, what they were capable of. She kind of glossed over some details, like she didn't want to scare Cerrarien, but the younger blonde knew that they were able to do things that even orcs couldn't do. They were horrific.

What will happen to us? What will happen to Blaennyn? She went and sat down a slight distance away, resting her head against one of the stalagmites. She closed her eyes and envisioned what might be going on out there. Was Blaennyn in the front lines for the battle? Was he with someone he knew or was he to die among strangers? Had the fighting already started? Her eyes flew open. Suddenly she realized it had gotten quiet for a moment. She looked about her, looked at the confused people that filled the passages of the caves. It was like the pause before the clashing of swords began, the brief silence that is filled with so much suspense and apprehension that one feels they can hardly stand it. That was happening right at that moment.

Be safe, Blaennyn. And Rannyn. The girl glanced at Threwen, still lying there. And don't give in, Threwen. She closed her eyes. Please get well.

"The deep breath before the plunge."

Rannyn glanced up at sound of Cadoc's whisper. The old man was staring out at the vast space in front of them before Helm's Deep, once empty but now crawling with the enemy, ready to charge. They had torches and spears and the ability to strike fear in the heart of the men. They were creatures of mutilation, created merely for the destruction of all the inhabitants of that fortress. And for a split second all was silent. An old man had accidentally loosed his arrow and killed an orc, causing a hush to sweep through everyone for a moment. It was a stunned silence.

And then a roar. A furious, crazed, unintelligible roar, like a huge animal that was about to tear them apart. It was a roar meant to encapsulate the very wrath Saruman had instilled in the animals before them. They were hungry for killing, ready to satisfy it. They rushed to the stone walls. Arrows whirled from both directions. Soldiers from both sides fell.

"So," said Blaennyn, who was standing on the other side of Rannyn, having just shot an arrow which met its target. "It has begun."

Rannyn looked back out at the confusion, everything slowing down as thoughts raced through him. So it has.

Oof!

Threwen's grasp on the wound in her shoulder moved to her stomach, which had just been smacked by a large boot. Her already weak breath was completely gone. She fell to the ground again in pain. Saruman hadn't liked her comment, her audacity to defy him. But she didn't care. She pulled herself to her feet again.

The wizard looked at her quizzically. "You get up again? It would be wiser to stay down."

"I won't let you scare me."

A slow smile from her adversary.

Threwen suddenly realized he had something with him. She looked at the rod in his hand. His staff. She knew that it only operated to inflict harm and now it was going to be directed toward her. Or so she thought.

He made a swift motion with it and said something under his breath. Threwen watched his movements, wondering what he was up to. He always seemed to have something up his sleeve. What was it this time? He finished and then stared at her, putting some of his weight on his staff, his eyes looking her up and down as if trying to calculate how much energy she had left. She knew he figured she didn't have much.

"I have a surprise for you, little one." He took a step to the side, as if to reveal something behind him.

Threwen squinted into the mist, struggling to see what it was in the gloom. For a moment there was nothing, just grey. But then a form materialized in the fog, a black form, shrouded in a cloak. It was a man, or so she thought. All was still vague since he was a ways away. She chanced a foot forward, trying to get a glimpse of his face. Then she wished she hadn't.

"Messenger…" the voice rasped.

Threwen reeled in horror, her face a picture of dismay. "It can't be…"

The corners of the wizard's mouth turned upward in a wicked grin. "Oh but it is."

Threwen felt like crying. The face. It had haunted her. She had hoped never to see it again. Now it was grey, a picture of death itself, looming toward her in the darkness. She wanted to scream but nothing came out. She wanted to run but her feet were stuck. She just stood there, staring into the face of the one whom she had slain with her own hand. She trembled.

The Dark Rider.

End Note: I know it isn't nearly as good as last chapter but I think there's still some drama. Hope you guys liked it.