Alright, here's the last bit of off-the-bat installments for a while, because this chapter marks the end of my pre-written material. From here on, I will hopefully be continuing the tale with some more classic LOTR flare. Unfortunately, I can't promise that it will get any less bizarre. After all, I started this thing with the intention of a light, rather fluffy romance-an "insert OC into LOTR movies to proxy for self" sort of fic.

It did not turn out the way I intended, and I have no reason to believe the rest of the tale won't follow suit. So, if you enjoy this, let me know, and stay tuned for more of Blaine's twisted tale.

Blaine felt as though the world had tilted sideways. She was dizzy, and the murmurs of the council echoed chaotically in her ears but did not register in her mind as it tried desperately to catch up. Her eyes fitfully scanned Liam's features, searching for something…any sign that he was not the boy she called her friend, or at least that he was not himself. She found nothing—his coppery hair and bright blue eyes were the same as she'd always known them, just harder, colder. He didn't even look at her.

"Tell us what you know of these travelers and the hawk Blaine," the chief commanded. Lia nodded, turned to the council.

"I myself heard them discuss plans to release the leath anam," he declared. Blaine almost cried to hear the hateful name roll off his tongue.

"Of course you heard!" Gimli made to charge forward, beside himself with fury, but Aragorn and Legolas held them back. Their faces were hard and angry, glares directed at the soothsayer.

"You were with us, Liam," Aragorn hissed under the din. "What are you doing?" Liam merely blinked at him and continued on as though nothing had been said.

"I heard from her own lips that Blaine stopped to talk with the travelers before taking off after the orc pack. She must have bewitched them!" At his final exclamation, with a condemning gesture to Blaine, the council was in an uproar. The chief silenced them with a regal wave of his hands, and Breag stood with an evil glint in her eye.

"We must purify them!" she declared. The elders nodded solemnly. "Cast their souls into the sky with the ashes! Burn them!"

Blaine had noticed little of the proceedings, eyes focused in horrified disbelief on Liam, but as a corps of Trodaire—tree fighters—burst through the doors and streamed toward her friends, the hawk leapt into action.

With a fierce cry, Blaine launched herself at the soothsayer, shifting as she went. One of the Trodaire blocked her approach, swung a blade at her throat. Blaine dodged narrowly, searched madly for a weapon, but by the time she straightened an arrow protruded from the fighter's chest. He toppled stiffly backward as Blaine spun to learn the identity of her attacker.

The council room had erupted into chaos. The Trodaire had swarmed her three friends like fire ants…and of course, they fought back. For three fighters, they were holding their own superbly. She managed to catch a nod from Legolas through the frenzy before he turned to fire off another arrow. She would remember to thank him later. Just before turning back around, Blaine's gaze landed upon Liam. The boy stood, apparently bewildered, amidst the fray, stiff and lifeless. She thought her heart would melt with the fire of her fury, and knew that whatever had been done to her friend, it was at the hand of Breag.

With renewed energy, Blaine raced forward. The witch was still seated smugly beside the chief, grin evil and hands pressed together in delight. Blaine found herself growling, stooped to pick up a discarded belt knife without moving her glare from Breag's face. She did not flinch when, upon her slow prowl up to the soothsayer's seat, Breag's dark gaze met the hawk's golden one.

"What did you do to him?" Blaine asked, voice deep and shaking with anger. The witch cackled, looked down her sharp nose at the hawk.

"I took him back, that is all." Blaine brandished her knife.

"What do you mean?!" she demanded. "He wasn't yours to begin with!"

"Oh, but he was," the witch countered, onyx gaze sparking. "I conjured him! Half of his soul has always been mine, and now I have the other half."

For the second time that hour, Blaine's world flipped. The ritual Breag alluded to was ancient, forbidden magic—necromancy. The hawk felt for a moment that she was unable to breathe. When at last the shock cleared, it was replaced with a curtain of red so fierce, she felt she could burn the entire chamber simply with her glare. Breag tsked in mock sympathy. "Did you think you'd found a true friend? Poor little half soul."

"Liam was my friend!" Blaine nearly screamed, voice breaking.

"He was a plaything!" Breag said, at last standing from her seat. Her eyes flashed to the knife in Blaine's hand. "And what do you hope to do with that, little hawk? You cannot strike me—you shall be bent to our will!" Suddenly the witches voice became many, and Blaire stumbled back as though shoved by an invisible enemy. Her blade clattered uselessly from her hand.

"Blaine!" Propped on her elbows, Blaine craned her neck to see that Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas had beaten back most of the Trodaire. Aragorn, who had called to her, was kneeling on the floor, cradling something with a look of urgency. Blaine didn't have to look twice to know it was Liam.

"Hold onto him!" she called. At that moment, she felt something break. The pain was as sharp as the time she fractured her left forearm, but she knew this was no bone. Rather, it felt as though her heart had collapsed—simply crumbled in upon itself and sunken into her stomach, where it smoldered with flame that took her over completely.

Blaine rose to her feet with agonizing slowness as before her eyes, Breag's body morphed into something shadowed and grotesque. "You're a monster," she growled. Even the chief, who had been so happy to sit back and watch the chaos, glanced warily at his soothsayer, stood slowly and backed toward the door. Blaine let him go, set her feet in a firm stance; he was merely an instrument.

"We are no monster," the many voices of Breag cried at once. "We have transcended humanity—we are a God! A God! Gods!" Blaine curled her lip in disgust. Breag's gaze landed on her, seemed to scan her, before moving to where Aragorn clutched Liam. Her blackened smile was sickening. "Ah…he dies! Death! We have his soul—all of it! The whole thing! He will fade…we will take him! The foreign travelers…they are ours, as well! They will bring us the One—the Ring! Ring of Power!"

"No they will not." Blaine's voice was little more than a strained hiss, but Breag's gaze flashed back to her, widened in anger as her smile faded. For Blaine had planted her feet, arms outstretched, and her face reddened with effort. In fact, her entire being seemed to shake, and suddenly she had contorted with a sickening snap, as though her spine cracked in two. For a moment, she doubled over, and Breag took the opportunity to hunker down, focus her energy on the hawk.

"You think you can break the covenant?" she screeched. "Now, after so many centuries? We have held you—we will always keep you! You cannot break us!" But Blaine had already straightened to regard the mage with hard chips of glowing citrine. The temples at her nape had expanded to cover her neck and shoulders, lengthening into majestic wings at her arms, and a restless breeze seemed to stir about her as she stepped toward Breag.

"You have held me too long, witch," she whispered fiercely before snapping her wings forward in a down stroke that sent wind whistling through the chamber. Breag loosed a fearsome screech that threatened to burst Blaine's eardrums, cowered against her chair, and a forceful ripple seemed to arch from her. When it hit Blaine, she staggered back, face a mix of surprise and borderline ecstasy, for the wave had left her feeling oddly light, as though the great chain around her neck had been broken.

"NOOOO!" The witch's howl seemed to shake the very ground, and Blaine looked on his horror as she folded into herself, shadowed form contorting, crumpling, until she collapsed, an old hag, against her chair.

For a moment, Blaine could only stand, lost in the silence. Her mind had not caught up with the events that had transpired, and she raised her wingtips before her eyes in disbelief. My demi form, she thought numbly. As her feathers stirred in some intangible breeze, she felt a smile of elation stretch across her face. "I'm free!" she shouted, turned to show her friends. "I'm fr—"

Blaine's excitement died in her throat at the sight of Liam where he lay cradled against Aragorn. Without so much as bothering to shift out of her demi form, Blaine rushed to his side in one great flap of her wings, leaned tearfully over him.

"He has not sustained any injuries," Aragorn informed her solemnly. "But his life force fades." Blaine nodded, unsurprised.

"I killed him," she whispered, and tears began to flow freely down her face. Aragorn cast her a confused frown. She took a shaken, watery breath. "He was linked to Breag—she took his soul!" She swallowed thickly. "And…in killing her, I have also killed Liam." Aragorn shook his head.

"You could not have known his fate," he said gently, but Blaine merely shook her head, traced a long, midnight feather down the side of her friend's face and closed her eyes against the tears.

"…Blaine?" At her touch, Liam's eyes fluttered open, cast around in confusion before settling at last on her face. Blaine's eyes flew open at the soft croak, and she leaned forward.

"I'm here," she assured her friend, laid her wing over the boy's cooling hand. Liam offered a brave smile.

"Don't cry," he coughed. "I hate it when you cry."

"I know," Blaine tried to force a watery smile. Liam tried to laugh at her attempt, but it quickly faded into a gurgling fit of coughs. Aragorn tried to prop him up, help him breathe better, and Blaine was dimly aware than Legolas and Gimli had gathered to respectfully observe the scene, but the hawk had tunnel vision.

"I'm sorry…I never told you…about Breag," Liam breathed when at last he stopped coughing. Blaine shook her head.

"How could you?" Blaine shushed him. "It was I who should have guessed." For a long moment, Liam merely smiled, and his breath grew so shallow that Blaine's heart nearly stopped in panic. Finally, he weakly traced one finger over the tip of her wing, and his eyes locked onto a single feather.

"Blaine," he said, and his voice shook, whether with weakness or sorrow Blaine didn't ponder. "I love you." And then his blue eyes drooped half closed, glazed over, and a last wisp of shaky breath left his lungs. Blaine stared at the body as Aragorn lowered it gently to the ground, tears falling numbly from her frozen face. She knew her new friends were watching her carefully, waiting to discover how to deal with the fallen Liam, but Blaine didn't care. Mechanically, she leaned down to plant a delicate kiss on Liam's brow, then stood stiffly, turned on her heel, and walked out of the chamber.

When the wind hit her face, Blaine could feel herself thaw from the chest out. Tears drying on her cheeks, she released a heavy sigh, tilted her head back and allowed her body to complete its shift. She took comfort in the prickle of feathers over her skin, the painful ache in her bones and the snap and crackle of tendons and cartilage falling into place. When she reopened her eyes, they were the dry, sharp eyes of a hawk, and with a shriek containing all her pain, her fury, her grief, Blaine took off into the gathering gloom of dusk.

Definitely more tragic than I intended. Interestingly, Liam, himself, just sort of popped into being all on his own. I was originally very concerned about how Blaine would part with him-clearly he couldn't come with the Fellowship. But just when I had really started liking the addition of his character, he went and died on me. I hate ornery characters...and his loss has made Blaine very difficult to work with. I didn't expect her to be this stubborn...

Frustratedly,

Downs