Chapter Five

Opposing Forces

Days had passed. She was not sure of exactly how many, but it was enough to know that the seasons were once again beginning their yearly change. The development of yellows, oranges, and reds were starting to stain the green leaves on the trees and the air had grown colder since the beginning of their travels. Luckily, they had managed to keep a good pace over the course of their journey and had arrived at the old watchtower of Amon Sûl. The abandoned lookout had become their resting place for the evening.

Strider had wandered off after volunteering to take a look around to make sure they place was safe. Before he had departed, he gave each of the half-lings a blade and ordered for them to stay put until he returned. As he walked off, he had cast Drifter a knowing glance, silently asking her to make sure the half-lings kept out of trouble.

She sat near the edge of the crumbling watchtower, her eyes constantly drifting between the ever darkening sky and the half-lings. At one point, she noticed Frodo had managed to fall asleep, obviously tired from their countless days of travel. However, when she noticed the remaining three half-lings began whispering about a hot meal, she arose from her place, silently making her way over to the scheming group.

Sure enough, as she walked up behind them, she found a small mound of twigs and kindling piled up, with Merry fully prepared to strike the flint in his hand. The half-ling jumped slightly as she seemed to walk straight out of the shadows. All of them were now staring up at her as she hovered over them.

"Just what are you doing little ones?" She inquired.

Merry was quick to answer, his stomach seeming to have taken over his mouth, "We're trying to get a fire going so we can cook some of the food we brought." He made a move to strike the flint, but a pale hand was quick to stop the action. The others almost jumped at the unseen movement.

"That would not be wise." Drifter claimed, letting go of his hands, unknowingly leaving the hobbit with a somewhat icy tingle on his skin. The trio sighed dejectedly.

"Then what are we supposed to eat?" Sam asked as his stomach growled painfully. Drifter stood up and began to rummage through one of their packs. After a moment, she returned with a small armful of food. She handed each of them some of the parcels and then sat down in front of them. They all stared between her and the rations put in front of them.

"Well, go on then. Eat up," Drifter chimed in, gesturing for them to eat. Merry sighed and picked up one of the tomatoes that were resting in his lap before he readily sunk his teeth into its red flesh. The others did the same, knowing their option of a hot meal had been terminated. They ate in silence and listened to the sound of the wind as it whipped around them, sending a fresh round of chills down their tired spines. Drifter was not unresponsive to their actions and once again returned to the packs.

By the time she had returned, the trio had all but inhaled all of the food she had offered them. As she walked back with the blankets in hand, she noticed that they were now sitting near the back wall to the overhang they were under, trying to hide from the invasive wind. Drifter tossed the blankets over their shoulders, hoping to help them fight the night's cold air.

"Rest. It will do you much good to have eaten and slept before we continue on tomorrow." She pulled the blankets tight around them, making sure no cold air could weave its way in between the mound of blankets and half-lings. Glancing out over the ever-darkening sky. Her eyebrows knitted together after a moment of thought.

She turned back towards the dosing half-lings. Frodo had yet to move from his place. He was obviously still exhausted. Drifter continued, "I'm going to try and find Strider. He's been gone long enough. And if it's not too much to ask, stay out of trouble. I won't be gone long."

Drifter began to walk off towards one of the crumbling staircases when a she heard a small voice pipe out. Although, upon hearing the words, she realized that these words were not intended for her to hear. "It's not our fault trouble always seems to find us." She couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she bound her way up the stairs.

After climbing the rather decayed stairs, Drifter found herself atop the grand watchtower. For a moment, she let her eyes wander across the landscape below. Her eyes scanned the horizon for any sort of danger. A trick of the moonlight made her eyes glow and look almost carnivorous in the dark hours of the night. A strong gust of wind lifted her hair and sent a slight tingle down her spine at the chilly sensation. She pulled her arms close to her chest and stepped back from the watchtowers edge to continue her search for the missing ranger.

She had taken no more than two steps before she fell to her knees, as a familiar cry rang through her ears. Without hesitation or control, she returned the call, her own personal scream echoing throughout the night. The entire ordeal lasted no more than ten seconds and left Drifter on her hands and knees, panting. She clutched her head in agony, gripping the wall of the collapsing watchtower. The screams were still fading from her senses before she took up the gamble to try and move again. While she could not see it, her eyes once again began to turn black. Throughout the mental chaos, she was wondering just what was happening to her.

With great effort, Drifter managed to get back on her feet and steady herself. She had to remain still for a moment in order to keep her vision from spinning. While ignoring the new mind cracking migraine she felt, she wondered just what the foolish half-lings had done to give away their position to the Black Riders. She hadn't even been gone for ten minutes for pities sake! But she new she would have time to scold them later; now she just had to make sure they didn't get killed. Drifter then took another two steps as her mind began to clear. But this moment of relief was short lived, for something crashed into her legs and she was once again knocked off her feet.

After managing to save herself from a potential bone cracking fall back down the stairs, Drifter somewhat gracefully tumbled onto the stone floor. For a short moment, she stayed put in attempts to collect herself. As she sat up, a new wave of pounding shot through her skull. But this time it was followed by a euphoric high like the one she had felt not a few weeks before at the Inn. In turn, she crumpled to the ground motionless, as all sense of sound and mobility were drained from her body.

While she lay there stock-still, the pulsation in her skull seemed to grow even louder. Muffled sounds began to return to her ears as she willed her blackening eyes to open.

Within that second she watched with crackling black eyes, as a Morgul blade was run through Frodo's shoulder, earning an anguished cry from the stunned half-ling. Strangely, it was the only thing she could hear. Within seconds, the half-ling pulled the Ring from his finger, and all sense of ecstasy had vanished as well. She watched, still frozen as Frodo's face contorted in pain before he fell to the ground and her eyes melted further towards blackness.

Another five seconds had passed and she had yet to move. Drifter could only watch the scene play out, now noticing Strider had somehow entered the fight. The mortal managed to send one of the Riders off the watchtower as he smashed a blazing torch against its hooded face. The Rider cried out as it fell from the vast height. Still, she had remained limp. Her skull was now throbbing painfully as daggers and swords continued to clash around her. Her body would not respond to her thoughts. All she wanted the Riders to do was leave; to disappear so her companions would be safe.

And then, for whatever reason, whether it was from watching the fall of one of their own, or some other unseen force that compelled them, the Riders fled. Drifter blinked, once then twice before letting her atypically heavy eyelids drift close as the long forgotten sensation of unconsciousness swept through her mind. And just as her eyes return to normal, did her usually bright world fall into darkness.

"What's happened to her?" Her ears were suddenly bombarded with noise. People gasping, running and yelling. The same panicked voice spoke out again, this time much closer. "What's happened to Drifter?" She concluded that it was either Pippin or Merry who had spoken, but that was all she could gather. All of her senses were being flooded in the same instant, sending her head into a momentary whirl.

"Mister Frodo had run into her when we first climbed the stairs." That was Sam. She was sure of it. His voice cracked with almost every word. "None of us had seen her it was so dark."

"Get her up," that was Strider. His tone was assertive, demanding, "We cannot linger here for long." Almost all of the voices around her seemed to have vanished before a small set of hands came and grabbed her by the shoulders. She felt herself being moved about until her head came to rest on a small lap.

Pippin's raspy voice broke out among the small group as he approached while the others faded away. "You've got to get up now Drifter." Did he sniffle? Or was that merely her imagination? One of his soft hands then came to move the hair out of the way of her lidded eyes. "We've got to be going now." It was after this statement that something wet landed on her cheek.

In that moment, Drifter groggily willed her eyes to open. She looked up into a set of soft brown eyes welled up with tears. Her eyes quickly flickered from dazed to confusion. Why was he crying? It couldn't possibly been over her…could it? She watched as another tear slipped down his check, his eyes already screwed shut from trying to keep them at bay.

She blinked, beginning to bring her hand up to his face. Any pain in her skull had since faded and her senses had returned to normal. In the back of her mind she wondered about the sudden withdrawal of her momentarily inflicted handicaps. However, these thoughts were shoved to the far recesses of her thoughts as she watched another tear slip down his cheek.

Without so much as a second thought, she gently began to wipe the tears away. Pippin jumped ever so slightly at the sudden action, but upon opening his eyes he relaxed. For that half second, he merely stared down at her as she finished riding his face of tears. She returned her hand to the ground and stared up at him as he stared down at her. Her face looked puzzled, while he just smiled. But it wasn't the customary joking or innocently humorous smile that normally graced this little half-ling's face. It was one of relief.

But before she could attempt to further depict his expressions, the voice of Strider broke out. "Is she awake?" Pippin turned his head to see the ranger approaching with a quivering Frodo in his arms. The two remaining half-lings were right at his heels, looking horrorstruck. Pippin could only manage a nod. "Get her up. We must leave immediately."

As if some magic had mysteriously broken the bindings upon her immobility, Drifter sat up, quickly coming to a stand in front of them. Without missing a beat, she held her hands out to Pippin, who just as readily took them as she helped him up. No sooner had she pulled him up did Strider speak, "Let's go. We have no time to waste." He then strode back down the crumbling staircase while the rest of the group followed behind him. None of them had bothered to question what had just occurred, for at the moment it was the last of their worries.

They had been running as if the very demons of hell were upon them. They bolted through the nightscape in hopes of saving the Ring Barer. None of them new how much time had passed, or how little for that matter. At one point they came to stop in a dark forest, shadows eating their way around them. Strider gently set Frodo down onto the ground, his normally glittering blue eyes replaced with a misted fog.

Sam glanced over at his wounded friend, placing a hand on his sweaty brow. He drew back with worry, "He's going cold." At the mention of this, their hearts continued to sink.

Pippin looked to Strider, voicing his own question. "Is he going to die?" His expression begged the ranger to deny his horrid suggestion.

Unfortunately, his reply wasn't much more reassuring. "He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a Wraith like them." A scream of the Wraiths was then heard echoing in the distance, and Frodo let out his own small cry of his own, as if attempting to answer them.

No one noticed Drifter as she began to slink further into the shadows. As she heard the Wraiths scream out in calling, she had felt another wave of dizziness fall upon her. She made a grab for the nearest tree to steady herself and she was already laced deep within the trees shadow. Without anyone hearing, she let slip a tiny screech of her own as she remained hidden in the darkness. Her head was once again in a jumbled mess and she took a few moments alone to calm herself before she opened her eyes again. The pounding insisted for a while, but faded to something more bearable and she finally opened her eyes. What confused her was the sight of a woman standing over the wounded Frodo.

Whoever she was, she was beautiful to say the least. The other half-lings seemed just as awestruck as she was, for they all gaped at her. As the mysterious woman kneeled over Frodo to assess his wounds, her dark brown hair fell down to the middle of her back. She was tall, at least much more so than Drifter. She was lean with soft pale skin that seemed to glow softly against the night's darkness, which unconsciously caused Drifter to drop even further into the surrounding shadows. With calculating eyes, Drifter noted the set of pointed ears the woman had.

So she was an Elf. That would explain a few things. While this information didn't make her feel any better about the situation, it did make Drifter feel less confused as to what was happening. Elves were known for their extensive skill in the arts of magic and healing, so perhaps she would be able to help Frodo.

Soon, Strider and the She-Elf were arguing. Although, after a moment, Drifter could plainly tell it was far from any true argument. She caught small tidbits of the conversation, which was taking place in Elvish. After a moment, they all watched the She-Elf mounted her white horse with Frodo before she galloped off into the night.

Sam suddenly bellowed out at the ranger, "What are you doing? Those Wraiths are still out there!" His only answer was silence as the man continued to stare off in the direction in which the white horse had fled.

After a few seconds, he turned back towards what was left of the group. "All we can do is have faith in them." Without so much as another word, Strider began sprinting off through the forest following the path the She-Elf had taken. Sam groaned aloud and started to chase after the ranger, everyone else following once again behind him.

By now, the night had gone and daylight had begun to eat its way across the land as the group continued to sprint through the countryside. Nearly all of them were extremely tired, but none of them were willing to be the hindrance in making the group stop completely. Strider was in the lead, Merry and Pippin behind him, leaving Sam and Drifter to bring up the rear.

The stout one was having the most trouble keeping up. His forehead was drenched in sweat and his face exceptionally flush. He stumbled over a tree root, almost letting gravity pull him to the ground just to have a moments rest. But he caught himself in time, kept his footing and continued in his run. Drifter stuck close behind him and always kept Strider within shouting distance. They pushed along, the sun becoming slightly shrouded by thin grey clouds.

Without warning, an excruciating pain ripped through her skull and her vision instantly blurred. This caused the cloaked female to come to a dead stop as she tried to catch herself from falling. However, there was nothing close enough to grab onto and she tumbled to the ground leaving a dusty trail in her wake.

Sam had heard her fall and stopped. He turned back to see yet another one of his companions motionless on the ground. His heart involuntarily skipped a beat. Without a second thought, he rushed back to her, quickly pulling her over onto her back so her face wasn't plowed any further into the dirt than it already was.

Her eyes were tightly closed and she seemed to twitch every few seconds or so. His eyes darted around frantically, not knowing how to help her. Sam turned around, yelling out, "STRIDER!" From far ahead, the ranger stopped, listening to the call. "STRIDER, HELP!" Sam shook Drifter by the shoulder. When he was given no response, he fell into a slight panic.

"What's happened?" The voice of Strider came out as he ran up behind them. Merry and Pippin were right on his heals, both panting heavily.

Sam turned back to him, his tone seemingly hopeless. "I don't know. She'd been behind me, and then I'd heard her fall, and now she won't wake up. It's as if she just fainted." Sam moved aside as the ranger kneeled down beside the stagnant female. They all watched as her face twisted and contorted in some unseen pain, random limbs twitching and shaking as if brushed with some unseen chill. Strider made a move to put a hand towards her brow, but halted as soon as he saw her eyes bolt open.

Without warning, Drifter sat up, covered in dust and dirt with a cut on her forehead that was healing at a rapid pace. The others jumped back, surprised at her sudden movement. Looks of relief began to break out across the faces of the half-lings, but their smiles quickly faltered.

Drifter's expression was laced with horror, and her eyes were as black as the richest tar. She said nothing and sat in silence her eyes lost to some world that only she could see. Her lips were drawn in a fine line, and her eyes were wide. "No," She whispered, her tone cracking. The others glanced at one another, obviously confused.

"Drifter?" Pippin asked quietly. But she did not reply. She only muttered the same word again, and just as painfully as before. The group watched in astonished silence as endless streams of anguished tears began to fall from her blackened eyes. Her hands came up to cover her face as she sobbed, words somehow managing to leak from her lips into tangible words.

"No, my brothers, my brothers, they have fallen!" Her tears trickled in between her fingers, landing on the powdered earth in front of her. "They have all been washed away!" She only paused to let out an enraged scream. "THAT ACURSED WITCH!" They all leapt back at her outburst, "I'll have her head, and the head of her children for this!"

She made a move to stand and almost began to sprint off. However, a firm hand caught her by the wrist, causing a delay in her departure. It was Strider, who then spoke as he held her firmly by the wrist, "Now hold on—"

"DO NOT TOUCH ME!" She screamed out at him, her eyes seeming to glow in fury. Within seconds, a faint crackling black aura surrounded her and Strider released her from his grasp. He slowly began to step away from her, his palms held out towards her.

"I mean you no harm Drifter." He said cautiously, all while watching the half-lings who stared on in evident perplexity and dread. He took another step back. His hand was aching where he grabbed her. This flesh was singed somehow and was now a sickly grey color as if burned by some unseen flame. Despite this, he held his ground, still carefully retreating.

She watched him with a piercing stare, eyeing him as he continued to fall back with the half-lings following suit behind him. Once she deemed them an adequate distance away, she turned around and bolted across the landscape towards her intended victim, leaving the rest of the group in a fine, and very startled stupor.

'Find that witch. Find her. Kill her! She harmed your brothers. She must pay…'

The crackling voice in her head seemed to drive her on ever more vigorously, and Drifter soon became nothing more than a shifting blur passing from one shadow to the next. The sky was now overcast and Drifter pulled out of a small grove of pines and out onto open planes, her figure like a trail of moving black fog across the flattened land. After she passed through another cluster of pines, she came to the bank of a river, the voice practically screaming out throughout her mind.

'Find that witch! Find her. FIND HER NOW! Avenge your brothers for the crime she committed against them. She brought them harm, now you will bring the same to her!'

Brothers… that word echoed the loudest as it passed through her subconscious. She swiftly made her way to the riverbank and stood along its shore, watching the cool liquid pass by. Gurgles erupted from all around her as the water moved along its path.

'Your brothers have fallen because of that witch…'

Anything else after that became a muffle. Her brothers… the image of two men passed through her mind for a brief second. One of them had dirty blond hair while the other was slightly younger with brown hair, which was growing in a similar wavy fashion as the others. Both of them were strongly built, and both of their expressions were warm and familiar.

That was all it took to bring some senses back to her. Drifter stood motionless along the side of the river, her hair wiping out around her as a gust of wind blew past.

'AVENGE YOUR BROTHERS! YOU CANNOT LET THIS CRIME GO UNPUNISHED!'

The voice was screaming again. Yet, she did not move. Her stare was contemplative, looking blankly out across the river. Drifter brought her hands up to her skull, falling to her knees as she fought the continual mental onslaught. Her eyes started to flicker from black to white, sweat once again beginning to appear on her brow.

"They are not my family…" The voice battled with her, trying to convince her otherwise. "No, no, you are wrong. They are not." Her hands gripped her hair feverishly; her eyes continually flickered as if trying to convey the battle that was taking place within her mind. When finally, she let out a belting scream that rang loudly across the water. "THEY ARE NOT MY BROTHERS!"

And as suddenly as the voice was there, it was gone, leaving her mind an eerily quite place now that it had departed. As her eyes hung open warily for an instant, the world around her seemed explicably bright. However, her eyelids fell shut and her previously tainted orbs began to revert back to a snowy white backdrop. She then toppled forward and her world was encased in a black fog as she surrendered her mind to unconsciousness.

"Will she wake up soon?" A soft voice was heard very close to her ear. Drifter's eyes were still closed, her mind finally bringing itself out of unconsciousness.

"In good time." There was a new voice speaking now. It was defiantly a male voice, strong, but somehow soft. A soft breath rushed against her ear. It was a quiet, and very warm sigh. She felt the bed around her sink in slightly as someone came to rest upon it. Her thoughts were still slightly jumbled.

The little voice spoke again, almost speaking directly into her ear. "I hope that happens sooner rather than later." There was a slight pause, the sheets around her shifted. "Do you suppose she could attend the counsel meeting my Lord?"

"Perhaps, Frodo." Came after a moment's silence. The voice continued, seeming to have moved locations, "There are a number of counsel members that have yet to arrive before we can proceed, so if she wakes by then, then perhaps."

Frodo sighed again, "I just have so many things I want to ask her." His voice was very close to her ear again.

She turned her head towards the little voice ever so slightly and forced her heavy eyelids to open. "Ask away," Despite how horribly dry and cracked her voice sounded, her words were humorous. She watched Frodo's eyes widen in joyous surprise at her words. He was sitting in a little chair wearing a set of fresh clothes, half leaning against the soft mattress.

"Drifter!" Without a moment's hesitation, Frodo threw himself at her, somehow managing to give her a hug while she was wrapped up in countless layers of blankets.

At first she was surprised by his actions, but after a moment she smiled and carefully returned the gesture as she moved to sit up. "It's good to see you too Frodo," she said with a small laugh.

He beamed up at her, his eyes blazing with excitement. "You'd been asleep for so we were all beginning to worry," He claimed while sitting beside her. His face lit up ever further. "I'll go fetch the others." Within seconds, he was halfway across the room, "They'll be so happy to hear that you've woken up!" By the time he'd finished speaking, he was already rushing through the doorway and out into the hall. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his antics, her expression soft.

After a moment, she let her eyes trail around the room, taking in the lavish furnishings, colossal stonewalls, elegant archways, and grand windows. She was in a very plush bed covered in soft white sheets and blankets with a mountain of pillows behind her. There was a small wooden bureau against the opposite wall with a few random trinkets sitting on top of it. Her cloak was resting on the armchair to the right of the bureau, along with her boots to the side of the chair. A quaint vanity and mirror was set up beside the luxurious bed and other small pieces of décor accented the room.

What caught her eye in particular was the figure standing just outside the balcony off to her left. From where she was sitting, she could tell that the person was male due to his stature. He was tall and also rather fair completed. And seeing as how he was wearing such elegant clothing, she knew he was some form of royalty. His dark brown hair fell far down his back and partially pulled back, letting her catch a glimpse of his pointed ears.

So he was also an Elf, which meant she was in Rivendell. Judging by the grandeur of the place and the vibe she was getting, she would've bet her life on that assumption. While this was already a problem in itself, the even more horrifying part of it was that she knew this elf. Upon making these countless realizations, her already cold blood turned to ice. Quietly, she got out of the bed and went to the bureau, trying to gather her things as silently as possible. While she could boast about her good hearing, the Elves were on the same playing field as she was when it came to having enhanced senses. Just as she was about to slither out of the room, a voice spoke.

"Don't think you'll be slipping away so effortlessly, my Lady."

She couldn't help but turn somewhat stiff under his stare, which she could easily sense as he stared at her from the balcony. His stare was one of the hardest to ignore. "Lord Elrond," Drifter said firmly, but with much apprehension in her voice. She dared not turn around, but she couldn't help but break into a quiet sweat when she heard him pad his was across the room towards her.

"Sit down," It was a veiled command, and she did as she was told. Drifter returned to the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress. An impenetrable net had captured the raven and it was now victim to its new master. Her eyes never left the floor and the first real sight of his approach she saw was his shoes.

She heard his voice before she dared look up. "I do not know how you managed to become a companion to the half-lings, let alone the ranger, but under their orders I am sworn not to harm you. But if you bring it upon yourself my lady, have no doubt that I will do everything in my power to see that you are exterminated from this earth in mind, body, and soul."

Within that statement, the tension lifted, and then fell like lead back into the room. Drifter remained silent, her eyes solely locked on his shoes. "Now, raise your head, and look at me."

As if like a wild mustang, so suddenly broken and whipped, she lifted her head. Yet her eyes were closed in mute terror. He waited soundlessly for her to lift her eyelids and meet his stare. And she did.

In that instant, it was as if two repelling forces met and were being required to collide. In half the time it took to blink, Drifter flung herself across the room, and Elrond staggered back, but was much more composed in his actions. Drifter was on the ground against the wall, panting and shaking like a wounded animal while her eyes flickered to a more shadowy hue. Elrond remained on his feet, but stood quivering ever so slightly. Both of them said nothing while the air in the room continued to crackle around them with their opposing energies, too startled to do or say anything.

Then, unexpectedly, Drifter stood and bolted from the room. This left the Elf Lord in utter shock and slight horror. By the time the last of her nightgown had disappeared out the door, the Lord had already begun to chase after her, calling for help as he ran.

She ran blindly through the halls, following her instinct as to just how she was going to get out of this angelic hellhole. She didn't know why, but whenever she came close to Lord Elrond, (or any other tremendously powerful Elf) she had the upmost urge to get as far away from them as physically possible. She never understood this oddity, but she wasn't going to go against now, especially after what had just happened.

When she met his stare, it felt as if the barriers between Ying and Yan had momentarily cracked and the two opposing forces dared to collide. Had they continued, the only result would have been complete and utter chaos.

At that particular moment, her mind was also in complete chaos as she turned a sharp right down an open corridor. At a glance, she could see the edge of the city, but she could hear numerous voices trailing behind her, her steps constricted by her trailing nightgown. Then without warning, she was tackled. Not grabbed, stunned or momentarily petrified, but tackled mercilessly to the ground.

Her cheek met the solid granite floor, sending a long forgotten feeling of pain to pulse throughout her face. She let out a cry of momentary anguish as she thrashed against the four elves that tried to restrain her. Adrenaline was pumping vigorously through her veins, and she wasn't about ready to give up now. Drifter continued to struggle valiantly against them.

Then, by some trick of magic, luck, skill, or out right carelessness of her attempted retainers, Drifter slipped away from the many hands that were trying to hold her and she ran back down the path towards the cities entrance.

Her feet were fast beneath her, and she barely felt the ground beneath her as she ran. She could still hear the voices behind her, but her mind was lost in silent flurry, and she could only hear her muted footsteps.

She could tell that she only needed to make a few more turns before she was out of the city. Just a little ways farther and she would be free. But her hopes came to a dead stop just as she did when another body once again jumped from behind and managed to bring her to the ground. Powerful arms circled around her in an embrace as strong as love, but in fact, it was quite the opposite. Her retainer's grip was tight and constricting, but she didn't even attempt to struggle.

This time, she stayed down, like prey that knew there was no hope for escape. The last remaining stores of her excessive energy had drained away and she felt as if whomever was detaining her was sapping whatever energy had left right out of her.

As Drifter laid motionless in a near death grip, she allowed a few silent tears stream down her face. She was disgustingly hopeless. She couldn't even fight back against one stupid Elf. Lord Elrond would have her killed within the hour and her father and brothers would've been ashamed of her for getting herself into such a predicament. But upon realizing her impending death, she knew that she would never get to see the warm faces of her family again. It was that thought that scared her, quite literally in this instance, to tears.

For a few seconds, all sound was muffled and she was lost to her thoughts. But strangely enough, the brutal arms released her and she was passed to another and much gentler set of hands. These lifted her from the dirty ground and pulled her into a strong, but exceedingly tender embrace. For a moment she was too stunned to do anything but let this person effortlessly handle her in her unresponsive state.

Yet, for some odd reason, she found his touch to be familiar. As he pulled her up against his chest, an intense wave of sandstone hit her nose followed by an ever-lingering hint of fresh rain. She opened her tear stained eyes to see a shoulder draped in chainmail. One hand was wrapped securely around her waist and the other, on her back, pulling her close as if to shield her from the cruel world.

He was just as she remembered. His gentle touch, protective embrace, all of it was the same. She took in his soothing aroma like a withered flower and readily clung to with shaking hands. After a moment, she melted against him with new tears of relief flowing from her eyes. As a small crowd formed around them, she let one soft word trickle between her pale lips.

"Brother."

Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

Had they continued, the only result would have been complete and utter chaos.

%&*

I told you I'd update before the day was out. And it's even posted before ten; take that! But talk about a cliffhanger. I am so horrible. But I hoped you enjoyed this update. I most certainly did. But I swear, the next chapter will be the start of many explanations. I just wanted a little more drama before I got to that point. And as always, reviews are most appreciated.

Until later