A/N: This is the fourth chapter in my story "The Riders". You'll finally, finally, finally find out exactly who/what Accalia is. LOL, that took a while, didn't it?

Summary: Arwen and Accalia race to Rivendell. When they get there, Accalia believes her quest is finished. Aragorn's questions are still not answered - he is still extremely suspicious - and when he hears that Accalia is not coming with them, he is relieved. Little does she know that she has plans of her own…

Disclaimer: I own Accalia Ravenheart and Hzrathgur.

Paws thudded against the ground as Hzrathgur ran, his golden fur damp with the morning dew. His ears were flat against his head, his tongue lolling out as he panted, his dark eyes snapping with drive and a feral snarl. His muzzle rippled into a growl as he ran, his thickly padded paws barely skimming the earth as he ran, kicking up splatters of sticky black mud. Lying low on his back, close to his broad neck, Accalia rode on him, gripping his nape with both of her hands. She used no saddle or bridle - just gripped with her knees and fists. Her blonde hair was once again plaited behind her, and her steely gray eyes were hard and focused. Every so often her hand darted down to pat Hzrathgur's thumping chest soothingly, murmuring words in a foreign language in his ears, which were still pressed flat on his golden head.

Arwen and her mount, Asfaloth, were far behind them. Accalia had taken off quickly, knowing that Hzrathgur's speed and endurance would greatly outmatch Asfaloth and began carving a path in the dense wilderness. She was mildly surprised that she knew the way to Rivendell so well - after all, it had been over a thousand years since she had trod these woods. And even back then, Hzrathgur had not been with her. Now she negotiated over tiny rivulets of streams, craggy boulders, and dead logs with the ease and skill of a champion Rider. Even as she urged Hzrathgur to greater speed by pressing her heels into his flanks, and felt sadness threaten to overcome her. Frodo would never make it…

No time for grief, little rider, Hzrathgur chided. We have much work to do.

Accalia stroked his chest again and he lunged forward, his muscular legs bounding over a fallen log that was leaning crazily against another tree. The whole forest stank of decay and soggy old wood - the stench filled both of their nostrils like the odor of rotting meat. It was very similar to the scent of the Ringwraiths, which was not unlike that of a corpse. Accalia almost retched as the sharp, acrid smell of death reached her nose again, and fought to keep control over her stomach. Behind them, Hzrathgur heard a the scream of a horse.

She pulled up hard, wheeling Hzrathgur around to listen. The only thing that could be heard was the panting of her steed and her heart, which was thumping wildly in her chest. Her ears pricked up, and she closed her eyes to listen hard. Hzrathgur growled low in his throat, the fur on his neck standing up. Accalia heard it too. The distinctive whinny of the nine black horses that were following them closely, nipping at their heels.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

Arwen prayed to every deity she knew in every language she could think of, speaking almost a nonstop stream of Elvish to Frodo. She recited every healing charm she had been taught in a vain effort to slow the poison that was, even now, spilling slowly into Frodo's veins. Asfaloth whinnied, his eyes bulging and rolling at the sickening aroma of death that hung in the air. The Nine were close behind them. Not for the first time, Arwen wished Accalia had stayed by her side. The Rider was dangerous, temperamental, and easily offended, but nothing could match the might and fury of a Great Wolf in battle. Even the Wargs trembled under their ferocious jaws, their huge claws sinking into the earth as they fought.

Frodo slumped forward on Asfaloth's proud white neck, his eyes rolling back in his head again. He was mumbling in a language Arwen didn't understand - it wasn't Elvish, nor black speech, but somewhere in between. She held onto the small Hobbit tightly, praying aloud to Elebreth that he be kept safe. He twitched and groaned loudly, his tiny frame jerking spasmodically. There was the shriek of a demonic horse behind Arwen, and she urged Asfaloth to a speed she didn't know he had. She chanced a look behind her and her heart nearly stopped.

Close behind them, almost within grabbing distance, were all nine of the Ringwraiths. Black cloth swirled mysteriously about their huge forms, their horse's eyes glinting with a savage red glow. There was the unmistakable rasp of blades being withdrawn, and Arwen was suddenly surrounded by nine dirty blades that were inanely close to Asfaloth. One of them drew alongside Arwen and reached a ghostly hand out to snatch Frodo from Asfaloth's back, but Arwen swerved hard to the right, pulling away from them and skidding up dirt. They closed in on her tightly, grouping in a loose semi circle to limit her means of escape.

She dodged around a clump of pine trees, one of the branches whipping up and slicing her cheek neatly. Blood trickled down her face and Arwen cried out, not so much in pain but in fear. It felt good to yell, and she did it again, hoping against hope that Accalia would hear her and come to her rescue. Arwen knew she was a fair swordswoman, but she was no match for the Nine all together. She spurred on Asfaloth and she saw a glitter ahead of her that ignited a bonfire of hope in her chest.

It was the river!

Asfaloth plunged into the river; it was painfully slow and shallow this time of year, so Arwen got across it with little difficulty. Unfortunately, that also meant the Ringwraiths would have no trouble getting across to reach Frodo and the One Ring. Arwen saw a flash of gold fur, and then pulled up alongside Hzrathgur who was standing on the opposite bank.

Even in her exhausted state, Arwen couldn't help but admire Accalia. Her hair was plaited but a few loose curls tumbled around her face, which was masked in a vicious glare. The twin swords she always carried were out and crossed in front of her, ready to fight at a moments notice. Hzrathgur was the epitome of a beast - his jaws open, his teeth stained with the dark red of old blood, his breath clouding the air in front of him. His golden fur was soaked with the water from the river and the dew that had coated his fur so recently before, and he was knee deep in the river. Arwen noticed that Accalia edged him oh-so-slightly backwards, onto the marshy grounds of the banks.

Across the river the Ringwraiths spread out in a line, a little uncertain what to do. One of them, the one in the middle, stepped forward and spoke. His voice was harsh and sibilant, like sandpaper running over a rock, with a guttural edge to it. "Release the Halfling, Rider," he snarled. "Do not be foolish."

"If you want him," Accalia laughed, baring her teeth like a ferocious lion. "Come and claim him!"

They began stepping across the river, picking their way across as though they were walking on hot coals instead of chilly waters. Arwen closed her eyes and began chanting softly in Elvish, willing the river to come and sweep them away. The water level rose an inch or two, then all was silent. She looked helplessly at Accalia, who didn't seem to notice Arwen at all. Her eyes were focused on something far upriver, and she was speaking in a language that sounded like very old, very formal Elvish.

Come to me, God of the River…

Show us your might…

Sweep away the filth that clouds your mighty waters…

Increase your swiftness…

Deliver us from evil…

Arwen watched in amazement as there was a low rumble, then water rushed forward, a huge foaming wave that crashed over rocks and swept everything away in its path. Watching it closely, she could just make out the heads and front legs of wild horses formed in the crest of the white rapids as they pulsed downstream. The Ringwraiths turned to go, but it was too late - the huge wave was upon them, knocking them flat then carrying them off downstream.

The roar that had accompanied the wave died down, and Arwen turned to Accalia, who was getting off of Hzrathgur. "My Queen, where did you learn to do that?" she asked in awe.

"My father taught me," Accalia said grimly, sliding Frodo off of Asfaloth and checking his pulse, then his forehead with one cool wrist. "He taught me many things, but not the ability to heal a cursed wound." She lashed Frodo's prone form to Hzrathgur and slapped his hindquarter sharply. He turned and gave her an offended look, then bolted into the trees.

Arwen jumped off Asfaloth and went over to Accalia, who was watching Hzrathgur depart. "You have my deepest thanks, my Queen," she said humbly. Accalia looked at her with something approaching a grudging respect.

"That was fine riding, Elf," she said shortly. "I will admit, I was surprised."

"Elves are known for their riding skills, my Queen. Of course, they are nothing like the Riders themselves, but we know how to handle a horse." Arwen said, her prideful Elvish blood rearing it's head. Accalia glanced at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Some of you are. Your father barely knows which end of the horse to ride. If he taught you I'd be surprised." Accalia said, starting off into the dense thicket of woods.

Arwen followed her, slightly hurt. Asfaloth, his mouth still flecked with foam and his sides still bathed in lather, followed her with trembling limbs. They found themselves on a small path, barely wide enough for Asfaloth to pass through without scraping his sides on the trees around them. There was the unmistakable sound of an arrow being notched to a bow, and Accalia turned quickly to her left.

Two elves stood there, bows drawn with arrows aimed straight at Accalia. "My Lady, where have you been?" one of the elves said solemnly to Arwen. "Lord Elrond has been searching for you. Why are you in such…ignoble company?" he asked, a sneer rapidly forming on his handsome face.

Accalia moved so quickly Arwen could barely follow her with her eyes. She leapt forward, snapped his bow into the air and let the arrow impale itself on a tree then closed her hand around his fingers tightly, pressing them hard against his bow. There was a slight crunch, and the elf's face went white.

"You know not whom you are speaking to, Elf," Accalia said, her voice a dangerous, silky purr. "I am Accalia Ravenheart, daughter of Kluamin Ravenheart, leader of the Rider army. I ride Hzrathgur, my wolf, whom you just saw moments ago. I am rightful heir to the Forest throne and your queen. You owe me allegiance and your utmost respect. Do I make myself clear, Elf?" Accalia growled, her hand clamping down hard on his fingers and twisting them slightly.

He nodded rapidly, then she released him. He winced, pressing his hands to his chest. His partner bowed deeply and respectfully at Accalia. "My Queen…forgive him for his insult. You are an honored guest in Rivendell. You are correct - we saw your mount pass by here only moments ago, but he was too swift for us to make out any details."

"Prepare a bed for the Hobbit you will find tied to Hzrathgur's back. Make sure my mount is untouched - he is not a pretty dog to be played with. He will find his way to the stables on his own - if he doesn't like the company you keep, he will eagerly eat the horses if I tell him."

The unharmed elf paled, then nodded. Elvish horses were extremely expensive. "Aye, my Queen. It will be as you say." he said, saluting smartly and running quickly off. Arwen stared at Accalia with something like disgust.

"Do you treat everyone like that, my Queen?" she asked. Accalia flashed her a lethal grin, the first one she had smiled since this whole business began.

"Absolutely."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

Lord Elrond met them at the gate. When he saw Accalia, his eyes flashed and his jaw dropped - but only slightly. "My Queen…" he said, bowing. She turned away, bored, and Arwen stepped forward.

"Our Queen is very tired and wishes to rest, my father. Has her mount passed by this way?" Arwen asked. Elrond nodded somberly.

"The Hobbit that was tied to his back is in the infirmary at this very moment. Your, ah, wolf, would not allow us to treat his own injuries before they treated the Halfling's. He is resting in the stables." Elrond answered. Accalia's eyebrows shot up.

"I must see him," she said, and Elrond admired her odd accent. It was subtle enough not to hamper her words, but pronounced enough to twist her speech with a peculiar lilt. "Is he wounded?" she asked.

"From what we could see, your steed is unharmed, other then the fact he is very tired. You may follow me to the stables." Elrond said regally.

She threaded her way through Rivendell behind Elrond, taking in the unfamiliar sights. Waterfalls rushed around her, and the small cobblestone path they were walking on was intercepted at points with tiny rivulets of streams. Bushes were full of dark berries, plump and the size of your thumb. Accalia plucked one off a bush and popped it in her mouth, crushing it with her tongue, feeling the cool sweetness flow down her throat. Birds sang cheerfully in the treetops, whooping their delight to the bright morning.

Elrond led her through to a large pavilion, where a garden lay sprawled around it. Stone benches were perched haphazardly around the edges, and sunlight streamed through the open walls. The zephyr of air that stirred Accalia's curls oh-so-slightly felt cool and good against her hot cheeks, which were still flushed with exertion from her wild ride. Ahead of them, she spotted a riding ring and a building attached to it. A few elves were riding around on horses, testing their skills in archery.

Accalia bounded up the path, forgetting her Elvish guide, and slapped open the door to the stables. Hzrathgur lay on his side in one of the stalls, his eyes closed, his golden side moving slowly up and down. She knelt in front of him and stroked his ears. I was wondering when you would come, little rider, Hzrathgur growled, opening his liquid black eyes.

I was held up with Arwen and her horse, Accalia answered, petting his ears. He gave one of his distinctive dog-groans and flipped onto his back so Accalia could scratch his belly.

Dumb beasts, horses, Hzrathgur said mildly, closing his eyes again to better enjoy Accalia's ministrations. Accalia smiled and kissed his front paw, then began running her fingers through his shaggy golden fur.

Asfaloth is not bad, for a horse, Accalia said. Hzrathgur opened one eye to look at her, and gave her the equivalent of a wolf's version of a snort.

Is this my rider, mighty in battle, fearless tracker, wonderful hunter, going soft? Hzrathgur inquired. Accalia mussed his ears, frowning at her golden steed. He gave a throaty chuckle and rolled back onto his side again. You are beginning to prefer Elves over your own people. That cannot be a good sign.

No! It's just…Well, my people haven't exactly been the nicest to me. At least here they give me the respect I deserve. Accalia retorted. Hzrathgur snored loudly, and Accalia shoved him. Pay attention, Hzrathgur!

I am, Hzrathgur answered sleepily. I was merely resting my eyes.

Accalia smiled and stroked his chest. Go to sleep, Hzrathgur. You've done enough. You were terrific.

I was, wasn't I? Hzrathgur murmured drowsily. Accalia waited until his breathing was even, then silently left him to find Arwen and see where she could take a bath.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

Aragorn entered the garden breathlessly, his legs still aching from his long run. Elrond sat in the garden, his dark hair flowing about his shoulders. His ears pricked up at Aragorn's approach, and he turned. "Greetings, Estel," he said quietly.

Aragorn bowed. "My gratitude, Lord Elrond," he said. Elrond accepted this with regal composure. "Is the Halfling all right?" he asked.

"He is being treated by our most expert healers at this very moment. The wound was neither deep nor long, but the poison that seeped into his veins threw him into a coma. He is resting now - he should awaken in a few days." Elrond answered simply.

"And what of Arwen?" Aragorn asked. Elrond raised an eyebrow. "And Accalia," he added hastily.

"Both are well - Arwen is taking care of Asfaloth in the stables, and Accalia is taking her refreshment in our dining hall. You may see one or both if you wish." Elrond said with a slight smile. He knew of Estel's infatuation with his daughter, and of Accalia's beauty.

"What did Accalia ride here on?" Aragorn asked curiously. Elrond hesitated.

"I am unsure as to what exactly she rode upon. If you catch her in the dining hall I am sure you can ask her." Elrond said, getting up and beginning to walk away. Aragorn watched him leave, then departed for the dining hall.

He found her in the dining hall, surrounded by a crowd of admiring male elves, all of them posturing and strutting trying to impress her. She played her part very well, admiring muscles, cooing appropriately, and giggling like a starstruck teenager. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder - it was loose and down around her shoulders - and propped her chin on her hand as she listened to a long story with rapt attention. Then she caught sight of Aragorn and stood up. She came over to him, her eyes narrowing.

"Did you take care of the Hobbits, Ranger?" she asked. In the time she had been gone, he had almost forgotten the derisive, coolly disdainful tone she always used with him. He scowled at her.

"Yes. How did you get here?" he snapped. She gave him an impish smile.

"Is that really so important? What matters is that Frodo is safe, right? Oh, and Arwen wishes to speak with you." she said. Aragorn's fists clenched.

"Whatever you are…I want to let you know something. I don't trust you, and if you're after Frodo…" he began, but she cut him off, her gray eyes growing dark and dangerous.

"Aragorn, speak to me in that tone again and you won't have a throat to speak. If it were not for me, Bilbo Baggins would look like Gollum, and Frodo would be well on his way down that path. You ought to be thanking me, for getting your little Halfling here unharmed - saving your sorry arses - riding hard without rest - !" she was sputtering now, her cheeks flaming with color. He couldn't help but notice she looked so similar to Arwen when she was angry.

"What did you ride on?" he asked abruptly. Her composure snapped, and she slapped him hard across the face. He yelped and his jaws came together with a click. He tasted blood where he had bitten his lip. Her eyes were flaming and she sneered at him viciously.

"I told you about your tone, Ranger," she purred in a low, silky growl. "As I said when we first met…do not underestimate me."

With that, she left, her boots skidding slightly on the polished marble floors. Aragorn shook his head, bewildered. What a temperamental little hussy! Yet her sauciness, her savageness, it all completed her. If she had been a docile little lamb, he wouldn't have found her half as attractive.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

Frodo woke slowly, feeling warm and stiff. He stretched his aching muscles, feeling the wonderful sensation of being in a soft bed, surrounded by downy pillows, thick woolen blankets wrapped around him. He blinked twice, hazy colors coming into focus. "Where am I," he murmured drowsily.

"You are in the house of Elrond. It is October the twenty-fourth, ten o'clock in the morning, if you wish to know." said a familiar voice next to him. Frodo sat up and saw Ganandalf sitting leisurely next to his bedside. Happiness surged through him.

"Ganandalf!" he cried. "What happened? Why didn't you meet us?" he asked, concern lighting up his dark eyes. Ganandalf's light blue eyes were far away for a moment, then snapped back to reality.

"I was delayed. I am sorry for not meeting you, Frodo," he apologized. Frodo nodded and lay back, feeling tired again. "You ought to thank Miss Ravenheart for getting you here so quickly, however," he continued. "Arwen couldn't have outrun the Ringwraiths without her assistance."

Frodo looked over at Accalia, who was lounging by the door. She had on a dark purple traveling cloak fastened at the neck with a bone clasp, and new black leather boots. Her hair was once again drawn back from her face and plaited firmly behind herself and a little smile was on her pretty face. She came over to him and knelt by his bedside.

"I wanted to be sure you were awake before I left," she said. Frodo smiled at her.

"Yes, I'm awake…wait, you're leaving?" he asked. Her smile was tinged with sadness.

"Yes, Frodo. My work is done. You're in Rivendell, quite possibly the safest place in Middle Earth. The Ring will continue on it's own journey, and you can stay here and be happy." Accalia said quietly, grasping Frodo's hand. Frodo pleaded with her with his eyes.

"But Accalia, I don't wish you to go. Why can't you stay here, with us?" Frodo begged. She ruffled his curly hair as she had always done, and tucked it behind his ear.

"I don't belong in Rivendell, Frodo. I need to go home to my own people, my own life." she said sadly. Frodo's eyebrows knotted.

"But…you don't have a family. Why do you need to leave so soon?" he asked. She laughed a little.

"I need to start one, Frodo. I need to get back to my home, resume my quiet little life." she patted his hand and stood up, shrugging a pack onto her shoulders. "Farwell, Wizard," she said brusquely, and left.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

Aragorn listened silently to Elrond and Accalia talking in low voices by the gates of Rivendell. He could tell who was who, mostly because of Accalia's peculiar biting accent. Elrond's voice was smooth and low, sounding much like a vat of honey.

"I take it you will not need an Elven horse for your journey?" Elrond asked, his voice teasing. Aragorn detected a smile in Accalia's voice as she answered.

"No, Elrond. Hzrathgur went before me and is waiting just on the outskirts of the forest. If we hurry, we can reach the river by mid morning." Accalia said.

"Be safe, my Queen," he said. "Are you sure you would not like an escort?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It would only attract attention, and I'm trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. If I draw attention to myself, Saromaun would take notice." Accalia said softly.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Fangorn forest first, to speak with the ents. Then I am off to Gondor forest, to sign a treaty with my father. After that, who knows?" Accalia said simply.

"Ganandalf wishes you would accompany the Fellowship," Elrond said quietly. "You and Hzrathgur would be the ultimate protection for the ring."

"Do you think I cannot feel the ring calling to me?" Accalia said bitterly. "Rest assured, Elrond, I wish I had never helped him forge it. I curse every day, thinking about it. It's charms are beguiling, deceptive. I hate it."

"All the more reason you would do well with the Fellowship," Elrond said. "Consider it, my Queen."

"I have." she said decisively. "And the less time I spend with that ranger the better."

"He is infuriating," Elrond suggested. Aragorn heard the sound of Accalia running her hands through her hair.

"Not only that, but I tremble for the day he sits on the throne! We will be allies, yes, but still…"

"He is betrothed to Arwen, you know," Elrond said. There was a surprised pause.

"Why do you think this would interest me, Elrond?" she asked, her voice dangerously keen.

"Oh, it's just that my wife and I started out by hating each other. Opposites attract, you know." Elrond said. There was definite mirth in his voice now.

"Elrond…he is a brave man. A courageous man. Arwen will be safe with him. I…I cannot marry a mortal. All Riders must either pledge to be maidens forever or marry someone who will never die." Accalia said. Elrond shrugged.

"So be it, my Queen. Be safe and swift, mellon."

"I will."