A/N: It finally becomes TOTALLY CLEAR who the Riders are!

Summary: Explanations and arrivals.

Disclaimer: I own Accalia Ravenheart and Hzrathgur. Nothing else.

They had been running for too long - their legs burned, their chests heaved in a never ending battle to regain their stolen breath. Sweat dripped from their foreheads as they ran the final mile to the foreboding tree line of Lorethelain, hoping to find some solace in their exhausted limbs. Frodo ran ahead of the others, his short legs not keeping him from running as fast as he could. The loss of Gandalf was as sharp and clear as a new knife wound, and it was his grief, not his tears, that veiled his vision. His throat burned with the suppressed tears for his old friend, but he couldn't afford to cry now.

They stumbled into the forest, their legs trembling with fatigue. Legolas was the first to stand upright, even though his breath was still dancing out of his reach. Aragorn nudged his elven friend forward, and they began trudging through the golden forest of Lorethelain. The majestic trees that stretched to the heavens towered above them, and the tawny pine needles that covered the earth muffled their footsteps as they walked, aiding the eerie silence. Legolas's ears were straining to hear some noise, some clue to reveal intruders, but there was nothing. Still, every muscle in his body was on edge.

Gimli was mumbling noisily to himself at the rear of the procession. "They say there's a sorceress in these woods," he grumbled, using his axe as a walking stick as he heaved himself along. "And Elf witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell." he said spookily. Then he threw out his barrel chest. "Well, this is one dwarf whom she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

The razor-tipped point of an arrow at his throat halted his speech. He swallowed nervously. A disdainful, singsong voice floated to their ears. "This dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot him in the dark." he sneered.

"Haldir…" said a very familiar voice warningly. "How many times did I tell you not to harm my friends?"

A strikingly beautiful woman pushed her way roughly through the crowd of angry elves, her golden hair flowing over her shoulders. A scowl was on her pretty, angular features and she shoved Haldir roughly aside. "Ranger…" she said coolly in greeting.

Standing in front of them, her familiar twin rapiers belted to her waist, was Accalia.

OoooOoooO

"Accalia!" Frodo cried in relief, throwing himself at her. She hugged him tightly, and was then mobbed by Merry, Pippin and Sam. She held the four of them tightly, as though they were small children who needed to be comforted. When they had sated their thirst for hugging her, she was able to look up, and her breath caught in her throat.

Legolas's sky-blue eyes locked with her steely gray ones.

A flame passed between them, fiercer and bolder then any of them had ever seen. Accalia's eyes widened, as did Legolas's as they surveyed each other. "You're…" he began.

"Accalia." she finished, holding out her hand. "Accalia Ravenheart, Rider of the Northern Plains."

He took her hand and kissed it softly, his blue eyes never leaving hers. "Prince Legolas, from the Woodland realm." he said softly.

Haldir cleared his throat loudly, breaking the spell that had descended over the blonde elf and the gray-eyed Rider. "Come, Lady Galadriel is waiting for you."

They went through the forest, still treading quietly. Legolas felt drunk - it was as though he had swallowed too much old Elvish wine too quickly, for his head was very light and his tongue felt strangely heavy. Her fierce gaze was intoxicating - her lithe movements enchanting. Everything about her was angelic, too beautiful and precious for words. Aragorn elbowed him lightly as they passed.

"Be careful, mellon," he whispered. "That one has a nasty temper."

Legolas shook his head like a hound trying to rid his ears of water. How could such a goddess have a short temper? She was too perfect, too -

She shoved Haldir unceremoniously to the left as they entered Lothlorien, and Legolas saw what his friend has been talking about. She spat something at the silver-haired warrior in a strange tongue, and he answered meekly in the same language. Then she rounded firmly on him and he sped off to fetch Lady Galadriel.

Accalia turned to the Fellowship and gave a piercing whistle that made them all wince. "What's going on?" Boromir asked. "Who is she?"

Before any of them could answer, a gigantic golden wolf, larger then a horse, bounded into view. His liquid black eyes were bright and hard, and he surveyed them with a mixture of distaste and anger. So, the latecomers finally arrived? he asked sardonically. Accalia mussed his ears affectionately.

Shush, Hzrathgur. Accalia murmured through their mental link. Then she said aloud, "Fellowship of the Ring, meet Hzrathgur. He won't harm you unless I tell him to." she said, giving Aragorn a very sour look.

Frodo approached the beast hesitantly, extending a hand. Hzrathgur peered down at the child-like Hobbit, then licked his curly hair gently. I like this one, he decided after a moment. His courage is admirable.

OoooOoooO

"You," Aragorn said firmly after they had all bathed and changed, "Have a lot of explaining to do."

Accalia sighed and leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes. Hzrathgur was lying a few paces away, with Merry and Pippin between his massive paws. For some reason, the golden wolf tolerated their constant prodding and poking.

"I suppose I do," she said, her hostile tone dropping from her voice. She rubbed her temples and ran her hands through Frodo's dark curly hair. He was sitting on her lap, curled up, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight.

"Where do I begin?" she said after a moment, then uttered a quiet laugh.

"You can start by who you are." Aragorn said flatly. She threw him a savage glance.

"I will not tell you again to mind your tone," she growled. "I'll simply have Hzrathgur eat you." then she sighed again and kept playing with Frodo's hair.

"I am Accalia Ravenheart, daughter of Kluamin Ravenheart, who led the Riders into battle during the First War of the Ring. I am the Queen of the Riders, seeing as my brother has been dead for many years. My wolf, Hzrathgur, is the leader of his pack.

"We are a balanced race," she said, staring into the crimson flames. "The Riders keep our world balanced and safe. We ride upon the Great Wolves - they have been thought to be dead, but in the misty lands of the North, they thrive. Our long standing alliance with all beasts has been retained, even now."

"Nonsense," Gimli grunted. "Only Elves and Men fought in the First War. Where the bloody hell were you?"

Accalia glowered at him. "Watch your tongue, Master Dwarf," she purred. "Do you really think that Elves won the war? There was a war going on beneath your feet that nobody ever knew about. Why do you think Sauron allowed himself to be out in the open during the battle?"

She looked around, then took a deep, shuddering breath. "In the caves where Sauron was fighting, a horde of ten thousand Orcs and Goblins were poised to strike. As soon as the Men reached their breaking point, Sauron was planning to have the native Orcs jump out of hiding and overwhelm them with sheer numbers. But we got there first." she said, a look of grim satisfaction lighting up her face.

"We fought hard and long. Many of our warriors died, including my youngest brother and my father. Much blood was shed, many lives were lost, but we stood, victorious, at the end of the third day of the battle. We heard the distant clang of weaponry above our heads, and we tried to make it to the surface to aid our allies, the Elves. But Sauron, when he died, caused a cave in." her face darkened as she said this.

"The dust was so thick in the air no one could breathe. We struggled out from amid the heavy corpses of Orcs, fighting our way up to the surface. When we arrived, breathless, bloodied and panting from our struggles, we saw the Men going back to their city, rolling in their victory like pigs in mud." she spat. "They would have lost, had it not been for us."

"What does this have anything to do with the One Ring?" Aragorn asked sharply. Accalia didn't look at him - for the first time, a flush of shame swept over her pale cheeks.

"We helped forge it," she whispered. "Sauron is not human, as you were led to believe. He was a Rider once, a strong, fine Rider with plenty of sense and good will. But his weak mind bent him easily to the darker side of Middle Earth, and soon his heart became corrupted. He approached us as a friend and a leader, asking us to forge a ring worthy to be worn by a great leader. We obliged, forging his pretty trinket over and over, sending countless models to him. Each one was rejected, and finally he went to Mount Doom and began forging it himself."

Her eyes were blank and far away as she began recounting it. "I was there," she whispered. "I assisted him while he poured his hate, his anger, his dark mind into the Ring…and I did nothing," she said bitterly. "I stood and watched while he made his trinket. I told him it would be dangerous, deadly, that it was unbalanced, that it would bring Middle Earth to it's knees. And he looked at me and smiled." she shuddered. "Then he said, 'Good. That is what I intended.'"

"We turned a blind eye to his dreadful deeds, trying to ignore it. The motto of the forest is, 'If you ignore it long enough, it will go away.' But when Sauron began attacking our villages, slaughtering women and children, he had gone too far. We stood up for ourselves, leading all twelve of our tribes into victory. When Isildur took the Ring for himself, we knew it would be a bad idea. And yet, we still did nothing."

A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she scuffed it away hastily. "When it was lost…we thought it was over. Relieved, we began trying to rebuild the forests and cities that Sauron had destroyed in his rampages. Then, Gollum found it. We trekked long and hard, looking for it to destroy it, but when we found Gollum's cave, we discovered he was gone."

She stroked Frodo's temple. "I'm sorry, Frodo," she whispered. "I knew it would cause harm, and yet…I helped him anyway. I didn't mean for it to come to this."

"Can you help us?" he asked, twisting upright so he could look at his friend in the eyes. "Can you convince your tribe to fight against Mordor?"

Accalia laughed bitterly. "What do you think I was doing while you were in the mines?" she asked. "They would hear nothing of it, even though I told them of the havoc being wreaked in other parts of Middle Earth."

Frodo lay down again tiredly, resting his cheek on Accalia's arm. "Try again," he mumbled sleepily. "You can try again, right?"

Accalia sighed. "I can try again," she admitted. "Although I would prefer Gandalf to accompany me. I'm sorry he died."

Frodo closed his eyes tightly, and Accalia felt him tense. "Not all wizards die, you know," she said softly. "Some are respawned if their work is not finished. Have courage, little Baggins."