Hzrathgur's paws struck the earth as he sped low over the rocky ground, his back paws spraying up handfuls of rock and earth. His ears were perked high, straining for any sound, and Accalia was asleep on his back. Her white-knuckled grip on his nape had loosened, and now her head was slumped ungracefully over Hzrathgur's broad back. Her blonde hair was still pulled back in a plait, but it was loose and needed to be redone. The purple cloak that Lord Elrond had given her so long ago was now slightly worse for wear, fraying at the edges and there was a thin spot neat her left shoulder blade.

The sliver of moon still visible smiled down on them, but it was quickly obscured by the dark clouds that passed overhead. It was a perfect night for traveling, really - quiet and calm, and even with the overcast sky Hzrathgur smelled no rain. His black eyes were half closed, appearing lazy, but in reality every sense was on high alert. This was a Rider's most vulnerable time - when they put their trust, their full trust, in their mount. It was now up to Hzrathgur to protect her fully while her consciousness slipped from her own mind. He had nudged her mind earlier that evening, and discovered she had been dreaming about that good-for-nothing elf.

He gave a wolfish smile as he loped forward, the gentle rocking motion keeping Accalia asleep. She really was head-over-heels in love with that prince. Hzrathgur sighed to himself - there was no stopping his Rider when she put her mind to something. Softly she stirred on his back, shifting her position a fraction, and her grip loosened even more. Only her instinct told her to keep her knees locked firmly on Hzrathgur's sides. Actually, it was an old Rider training method - having young Riders fall asleep on their mount and stay riding. Accalia had been one of the very few who had perfected it.

The decaying stench of blood drifted seductively past Hzrathgur's nostrils, and he stopped immediately. His muzzle flared as he drank in the metallic stench that would be horrifying to any human. However, it wasn't the pure blood of a deer or a fox - this was the thick, sticky blood of a Uruk. His ears snapped back on his head and he growled low in his throat.

Accalia sat up, rubbing her eyes, when she felt Hzrathgur growl. What is it? she asked, blinking hard. Hzrathgur didn't answer for a moment, but dipped his head to the ground and began sniffing loudly.

Uruk-hai. He snarled. A full battalion, by the smell of them.

A full battalion? Accalia asked, alarmed. Where the devil are they going?

He took a few steps forward, sniffing the ground intently, and then his head came up and his ears stood erect on his head. Another growl rippled down his muzzle, and his savage black eyes slitted dangerously. They are but a few hours ahead of us. Shall we ride with haste, little one, and catch them?

Accalia pondered this. It would be satisfyingly good to hack a few Uruk-hai to death, but she had to keep going to Fangorn Forest. She was about to tell this to Hzrathgur when he barked loudly, the noise echoing through the gorge they were in. Accalia, they are headed straight for the river!

Panic, raw and bitter, filled Accalia to her core. They were heading for Frodo and the Ring - of course! How could she have been so stupid? She dug her heels hard into Hzrathgur's sides, and he shot forward like an arrow from a sling, leaping neatly over low bushes and small streams. Her grip reengaged on his nape, and she urged him forward. Mentally she was kicking herself. How could she have just abandoned the ring-bearer like that? Her father would never have made a mistake like that. He would have accompanied the One Ring to Mount Doom to ensure of it's destruction. Kluamin alone had been the Rider who objected to the making of the Ring.

Hzrathgur raced through the plains, the dry grass whipping against his paws and against Accalia's boots and calves. The stiff night breeze blew back Accalia's hood, and she felt the brisk wind pat some color into her cheeks. Her steely gray eyes blazed with rage at herself and at the Uruks. She would never allow them to hurt Frodo. She would Ride Hzrathgur to the ground if she had to, and when he collapsed she would continue on foot. All her life she had dedicated herself to protecting Frodo and Bilbo - now, when he needed her most, she was gone.

OoooOoooO

They rode all through the night and well into the next morning. By noon, Hzrathgur gave the weary conclusion that the Uruk-hai were traveling at exactly the same pace that they were. They paused at the mouth of a rushing stream, and Hzrathgur inclined his head to drink deeply, washing away the foam that flecked his jaws. When his belly was half-way full of icy cold water, he turned to face Accalia.

We cannot catch them, little one. He said gently. Accalia's eyes hardened.

We will have to try. I am not letting the Fellowship die that easily. Accalia snapped. Hzrathgur bounded over the stream without another word, charging forward. His huge, thickly furred paws struck the earth like pistons, and his muscular legs, full of muscle and sinew, propelled the two of them forward until they could see the glittering river stretched out beneath them, sparkling in the bright sunlight. Their ears pricked up simultaneously - there was an occasional cry, and the clash of metal shrieking against metal. It was the unmistakable sound of a vicious battle.

They threw themselves down the hill, Accalia conforming her body low to Hzrathgur as they practically flew. When they reached the bottom Accalia unsheathed her swords and readied herself for another battle. She would die defending Frodo and the Fellowship, and so would Hzrathgur.

An Uruk popped out from behind a tree and Accalia sliced his throat neatly, disliking the feel of his black, hot blood spattering her face and neck. Hzrathgur took a swift chomp out of his neck as they passed, swallowing quickly. Despite the salty taste, Hzrathgur was willing to eat anything. He was ravenous, and a starving, angry wolf was perfect in battle. Accalia knew this, and that was the reason she had denied him food as they ran.

She heard a horn sounding, a full, rounded blast, and Accalia swiveled Hzrathgur over to the sound. It had to be that Gondorian man, Boromir, calling for help. Hzrathgur knocked a Uruk flat to the ground with his front paws and ripped his throat out, spraying thick black blood everywhere, and they continued.

The two of them burst into a clearing, and saw the rugged blonde man Accalia had seen earlier, the one they called Boromir. He was defending Merry and Pippin, his huge sword cleaving the Uruks viciously. Hzrathgur leaped over a fallen Uruk and dove for a juicy looking Orc, ripping his head clear off. Accalia's dual swords were flashing spears of metallic light, and she twirled them in her hands, fighting the Uruks with a speed and power borne only of champion Riders.

Then she heard it. The sickening whump of an arrow piercing a body. She heard Boromir cry out, and she slipped off of Hzrathgur, whirling around, her gray eyes alive with hate and malice. Accalia began whooping out Rider war cries as loud as she could, and she began battling her way over to Boromir and the two Hobbits.

It was no use.

Two more arrows struck Boromir, and she heard him groan slowly. She gave a heart-wrenching scream as a rusty scimitar sliced her shoulder neatly to the bone, and she stabbed one of her blades into the Orc who had sliced her. She was so close, but so far away.

There was a guttural snarl, and a path between Uruk-hai suddenly opened up as Hzrathgur plunged into the ranks, ripping limbs and biting necks. Disgusting bits of sinew and bone flew past Accalia's eyes, and she fought her way over to the reeling Gondorian who was impaled by three arrows. She dropped to her knees next to him as he rolled onto his back.

"Boromir!" she gasped, and her hand wrapped around the shaft of one of the arrows. He gripped her hand with a surprisingly firm grip, his calloused hand swallowing her smaller one.

"Don't." he rasped. "Aragorn…where's Aragorn…" he mumbled. Accalia glanced behind her, praying that Aragorn would come over the hill before the next wave of Orcs came.

"He's coming, Boromir. Hold on until then." she whispered in his ear. Then she kissed his forehead and began reverently reciting ancient Rider burial prayers, sending his soul on a speedy journey to Valar. "When you see my father," she breathed in his ear. "Give him my love, and say his daughter is being strong for him."

Boromir nodded weakly, and she could see his eyes glazing over. It was just then that Aragorn came over the crest of the small hill, slicing his sword at the Uruk's who were attacking him.

OoooOoooO

Aragorn watched as the small boat that held Boromir's body drifted down the current. Legolas's face was smeared with dirt and blood, and his eyes were coolly examining the ground. Kneeling, he touched his fingers to a huge wolf print that had embedded itself in the soft, piney soil.

"She was here." he murmured, almost to himself. "Accalia and Hzrathgur, they were both here."

Gimli nodded gruffly. "Aye. She's goin' after Frodo and Sam, methinks."

It was selfish of Legolas, he knew, but he wished desperately that she had waited just a few minutes to say goodbye. A few minutes, that's all that he wanted. He dropped his hand to his hip as he fingered the intricately carved dierk that Accalia had given him, painted with the purple lotus flower on the ivory hilt.

"You let Frodo go, then?" Legolas finally muttered, getting to his feet.

"Aye." Aragorn said.

"The Fellowship has failed, then." Gimli sighed.

"Not while Merry and Pippin are still in the hands of the Uruk-hai." Aragorn said grimly. "Let's hunt some Orc."

"Yes!" Gimli roared. Legolas gripped Accalia's throwing dierk tightly, his blue eyes growing icy cold and hard as he thought of the brutes who had kidnapped the two innocent Halflings.

"Yes." he growled in a voice very unlike his own. "Let's."