I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of Tolkien's characters. Any characters and plot lines I create are mine.
A/N: Now then, I was looking over the reviews again today for Azruphel, and I just want to clear something up. For those who said something (and you know who you are :D), Strider and Azruphel are not going to have any sort of relationship beyond friendship. I normally do not like to pair people in unrealistic ways, in other words, people with girlfriends keep the girlfriends they have. I might have a slight one-sided moment, but if that happens it will not last long. We shall see. Any OCs or people without pre-established girlfriends are up for grabs, though. I may have to think about that depending on how far I take this story. I do have a plan for it, and there is a point that could either work as an ending or be a good place to start a "book two" should I want to continue. Anyway, here you go!
Chapter 9: Across the Anduin
"How far from Mordor have you travelled?"
Azruphel turned around to face Strider. The two were riding double until they reached a city, where Strider planned to purchase a horse.
"Never over the Anduin. I have been to the edges of Mirkwood once, but I was with the others."
"I should take over when we get closer to Gondor. I want to stop at Minas Tirith, but not for long. Then we can move towards Rohan."
"And after that?" Azruphel asked. Despite an extensive knowledge of maps, she had no idea where a Ranger would go or what the region was like. There were stories, of course, but rarely any facts.
"Well, I need to go to Rivendell. From there, well, it depends."
"What is the North like?"
"It is colder. There are few main settlements anymore. There is the village of Bree, which is a human settlement. The elves live in Rivendell, and there is the Grey Havens by the sea. There are many ruins of the Northern Kingdom, too, along the East Road."
"Are there trolls?" Azruphel asked.
"Not where people are, usually. Why do you ask?"
"I just heard stories, that's all. Some of the orcs talked about seeing trolls in the North. It didn't end well for most of them."
Strider laughed. A story came to him suddenly, one that a friend told him. He looked at Azruphel. It wouldn't hurt to tell a tale, as long as he left a few names out.
"I had a friend who ran into a troll, once. Three trolls, actually!"
Azruphel turned around, very interested. "What happened?"
"Well, he and thirteen others, dwarves, were traveling on the East Road when they stopped for the night at an abandoned homestead."
Strider went on to tell about how the company noticed their ponies were missing and sent his friend to investigate. Of course, the entire group was eventually captured, and the trolls were preparing to cook them. The friend distracted the trolls, getting them to argue over the proper way to cook dwarves before dawn, when the sun turned the trolls to stone.
Azruphel, at that point, was laughing along with Strider at the idea of three stone trolls in the woods. "Have you ever seen them?" she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.
"No," Strider said, "but I heard that there is a bird nesting on one of the heads!"
They had to stop after that. Both Azruphel and Strider were doubled over, laughing hysterically! Eventually, Azruphel tried to calm down by saying, "We need to stop or someone will hear us!" But as they rounded a corner in the woods, they noticed an old, stone statue, and began laughing again.
"So, what happened to your friend after that?" Azruphel asked after they finally calmed down.
"Well, they found a cave near the trolls, which was full of gold. Long story short, he is really rich now."
"Wow," Azruphel said, amazed. They were leaving the woods and heading into the open. She could see a city ahead, or what was left of a city, at least. "Looks like you had better take over," she said, getting down to switch places with Strider.
"We should head north. There is a shallow crossing we can use. I don't want to run into any guards in Osgiliath."
"No bridges, then?" Azruphel, for some reason, looked worried to Strider.
"No. Is that a problem?" he asked.
"No. No, it shouldn't be."
"Something wrong?"
"Bûrzum does not have much water experience," And neither do I, she added to herself.
"I am sure he will be fine," Strider said. "Speaking of Bûrzum, he needs a new name, too. I don't want to answer any questions or attract attention to us."
"OK," Azruphel said.
"What does his name mean?"
"Darkness. Somehow, I do not think that is a normal horse name."
"I would say no," Strider said. "How about-"
"Wait! You got to name me, now I get to name him!"
"Fine. What are you going to call him?"
Azruphel thought about it. She was so used to calling him Bûrzum. She would have to choose something similar.
"Nightfall. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes. Good name. It suits him."
"I thought so!" said Azruphel before suddenly, she seemed to freeze. Bûrzum snorted and stopped, two feet from the water.
The rough hand of the orc on the back of her head. Bucket of water in front of her. Screaming for Khamûl, but he was not there. The hand forcing her head underwater before she could take in a breath. Completely submerged. It was dark, cold, and no matter how hard she struggled she could not get up.
"Azruphel?"
Strider's voice snapped her out of the memory. She shook her head.
"Sorry. My mind... drifted for a moment. I'm fine."
Strider stared at her, and it made Azruphel uncomfortable. The look in his eyes showed understanding, as if he knew what was bothering her.
"The water is not deep."
"I know," Azruphel said as Strider nudged the horse forward. Bûrzum (Nightfall now, Azruphel corrected to herself) took a tentative step forward before walking calmly across the river. The water came up to her feet, and she instinctively moved away from it until, finally, they reached the other side.
"See, that wasn't so bad," Strider said, though Azruphel was not sure if he was talking to the horse or her. He turned back to face her. "Ready to go to Minas Tirith?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," Azruphel sighed. She turned back, looking across the river.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. I was just thinking that this is the farthest from home I have ever been," Azruphel said with a smile. "And you know what? It feels right."
"Good! Let's go, Faran!" Strider teased.
Azruphel laughed at the fake name. "Sure thing, Strider."
"Forward, Nightfall!"
The black horse snorted and cantered south towards the city. Azruphel had seen the city a few times from a distance. The White City, as it was called, was the perfect name for the towering fortress. The seven levels, built into the mountain, reflected the morning sunrise. Azruphel remembered stepping from her hiding place in the trees to see it. Khamûl had yelled at her later for it, saying that stepping in the open was unsafe, but it was a spectacular sight to behold! She thought about Khamûl, and his insistence that people would always hate the Nazgûl. No, she now thought, they would only hate you! This was the world that they hated, with the people, and the sun. The sun had never bothered Azruphel, but she was encouraged to stay far away from it to the point where, on the rare times she actually went outside, she received what Akhorahil called sunburn. Without them, she could enjoy the moments other people enjoyed on this would, because she had not faded from it.
Before long, they had reached the city, which was larger than Azruphel had anticipated. It was huge! The main gates were open, and as they approached, Azruphel could see people busying themselves in a market. Suddenly, she was very nervous. What if they figured out who she was? What if they rejected her? What if Strider left her? The final was a very worrying thought. With all the people, she did not know if she could keep track of Strider. He could do anything. Leave, turn her in, and then what?
As if Strider could tell her anxieties were getting the better of her, said, "Don't worry. I will be with you the whole time."
"Good!" And with that, they passed through the gates and into Minas Tirith.
A/N: Please review.