The Veil

I do not intend to plagiarize either works by Rowling or Tolkien; I am merely using my imagination and applying it to their fantastic worlds. I've just tweaked some things to make the story relevant.

Chapters:11 of many

A/N: My god, did I have horrible writers block! I apologize, for I know next to nothing about horses and if this chapter seems a bit odd, you now know why. Enjoy!

Oh, and thank you to all those who reviewed, and to those who are watching and favorite this story. You are my inspiration!

oOo

Bellatrix wasn't any good with horses. She wasn't good with any creature really.

The only thing she had ever been good at was being devilishly cruel, and there was really no option for that at the moment.

The horse that she was given was a plain brown one, quite unnoticeable when filtered with the rest of the herd, and of average horsey-height. It gave a snort when she had initially gotten close to it, along with a whinny and a few disapproving stomps on the stable floors. It, as Bellatrix didn't know if it was male or female and had no intentions of checking, looked at her with large brown eyes, almost glaring from its elevated position, its sight traveling down its snout to land on her crazed form.

"Talk to her," Aragorn said from behind her, noticing her standing in front of it in an awkward stance, "She will understand."

He took her hand in his own, a rough but warm (surprisingly pleasant) embrace, and lead it slowly to the nose of the mare. His chest pressed against her back as the distance between them decreased, and the lids of her eyes lowered a fraction of an inch. The horse sniffed his hand, and finding it suitable, move onto hers after Aragorn released her hand to stay suspended and move back from her a ways.

From its nostrils it blew air onto her hand. It was cold, but not overly so, and had an odor of which she couldn't place.

Like shriveled leaves and straw. Much too much like Thestral breath.

She made a face, "What do I say to a horse?"

But he didn't reply.

He walked off to a horse down from where she was, and watched as he calmed the rowdy creature, something the stable hands had been unsuccessful. He whispered to the horse, rubbing its face and murmuring in indistinguishable tones.

She turned back to her beast, catching its eye and sighing.

What have I gotten myself into? Ugh, nasty thing really…

She lifted a wand-less hand, and the horse watched her carefully, for now she was approaching without the guide of a more experienced hand. It hovered over its nose for a moment, before coming down and lightly patting the tip.

"'ello, horsey." She said, almost a squeak as she felt the cold dampness of its nose.

She reached out to lay her hand on its side, finding the fur there soft but coarse at the same time, and smooth, just as smooth as one could infer by looking at its gleaming-ness from afar. The beast turned its head to look at her, and the skin under her bandaged hand rippled, but she wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not. Not knowing where to proceed after that point, she stilled as she left her hand on his nose, for fear of making a move that would make the beast use its giant teeth nip at her very small hands (in comparison).

She saw those teeth, and they were huge.

ooo

Not soon after, a stable hand came and put the necessary equipment on the horse, along with her pack and other similar items. He checked to see if the horse had proper shoes on, and brushed it down once more in extra measure.

She was tempted to thank him as he left her to herself, but caught her tongue at the last second.

"A noble mare you have indeed, my lady."

Only an idiot wouldn't have known the voice to belong to Legolas.

"Mhm." She wouldn't have known what to say.

He took in her uneasy demeanor. "You seem uncomfortable. May I inquire as to why?" He came up beside her, their shoulders nearly touching.

She made an odd guttural sound in the back of her throat.

"…It doesn't matter."

"Nothing that has one so uneased can be of no matter." He said to her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. She made a flinch, but did not remove his hand. She took a while to reply.

"…Are—Are you sure it will allow me?"

In that moment, she had never before seemed so… pure to him. Her fear, and uncertainty, touched his heart in a way that had him in question of himself. She turned her face toward him, and he caught in her eyes a dark and quivering need. She still had doubts in herself, he could tell. She still could not see just how good she actually was, and it saddened him.

"No need to worry," he said to her in dulcet tones, "You are more than worthy to ride."

There was a spark in her face as she acknowledged his comment.

-that's a first.

ooo

As much as Legolas would have wanted to tell the others, not in a boasting manner of course, of how he had successfully taught Bellatrix to mount and ride in preparation of the journey to Dunharrow, it would have been an absolute lie.

As soon as she had put her foot in the stirrup, the mare had begun to buck and neigh wildly, attracting the attention of everyone, and effectively erasing any hope he had to have Bellatrix ride. It took only a few moments to calm the horse, but in those few, Bellatrix had managed to vacate the stables.

It had quite effectively shocked him, as he must have misjudged the situation. He thought her so ready to ride, and her spirit, it had seemed had also been ready. When he looked into her eyes, he could see the ghost of the dangerous woman she once was before she had come to Middle Earth shying away from the light, allowing for the more docile woman to peer through. She had wanted to ride the mare badly, his elvish senses had allowed him to understand that yearning emanating from her, and now it seemed as if she had retreated away from happiness, and from him—no, the company, again.

They had only been riding for a portion of their journey when he had told Aragorn of the events, skipping out on a few of the minor and useless details. Aragorn had listened as one who was concerned would have, and then asked Legolas if he knew of her whereabouts.

"I—I had presumably thought she would be with you, Aragorn." Legolas was caught off guard. Neither of them knew where she was?

"No my friend, I have not seen her." Surprisingly, Aragorn did not look alarmed and peered slightly to the side with a quirky smirk. "Do not worry," he said, "She will show up in due time."

Legolas was left to ride alone to wonder just exactly what Isildur's heir was plotting.

ooo

The sky, bright blue, was dotted with clouds of the whitest of whites. It was as if a painter had taken up his brush and created a masterpiece so wonderful it would ease the hearts of all whom look upon it. The smell of the clear air was… abysmal at best.

She was beside some sort of… cabbage looking vegetable, its odd stench gracing her nostrils with an odor quite unplaced, hiding behind the crates on a cart holding the provisions for the trip. It was rather bouncy- bouncier than a horse, that was for certain- and now her bottom was in dire protest and yearned to be on a horse instead.

She didn't want to ride a horse though. No matter how much Legolas would reassure her that the mare had meant no harm, and that they should "attempt again."

But she wouldn't have any of it. She saw the look in the freaky beast's eye, it definitely meant to tear her limb from limb with its hooves.

The thing was lucky I didn't curse it, to be honest. Couldn't have pulled my wand out a moment to sooner and-

She had walked her sorry arse back towards the Meduseld, all intentions of abandoning everything and leaving this place for good. Only, she had no idea just exactly how to get back. Gandalf had never hinted that she could, and somewhere along the line she remembered him telling her, forcefully, that she was stuck here.

Sonofabitch.

She was stuck. Fucking stuck here. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the dirt ground beneath her boots. Stuck in this shithole. She caught sight of her long curly hair. It looked… healthier, almost? She picked up a curl and placed it to her lips. Yes, defiantly smoother, and thicker, if that wasn't impossible. She took the curl, stretched it, and let go. It bounced, bounced right off her fingers and smacked her face.

Well, that's a first.

She cackled, and honest laugh, and picked it back up again. It smacked her in the face, again, and again, and again. Some of the villagers around her had heard her odd giggling and had stopped to watch her in curiosity. She noticed, dropping the curl in mid-spring, and scowled. An audible growl came from the back of her throat as her thoughts switched back to the dilemma at hand.

I'm not getting on the back of that horse. Both of those twats are going to have to whip out some wands, or those barbaric swords, and duel me for all their worth before I ever even consider—

A few soldiers passed her with a horse pulling a cart of food and a few crates that were big enough to hide a good few children. They stopped, coincidentally, right in front of her, conversing to an overseer and checking they had everything.

Bella, sometimes you are just too clever.

Surprisingly, the elf and those other two hadn't found her yet. She had no intention of getting up to find them either, and was perfectly fine laying here on her back, thank-you-very-much.

Except for the cabbage, she could do without that. She grabbed it, in all its grand greenness, and chucked it over the side of the wooden cart. There, now she could smell the air.

Not that she enjoyed it or anything…

ooo

She woke up some hours later, the sun further traveled up the sky than it was before. She jumped when she heard voices yelling. They sounded urgent, and for a split second fear stirred within her. Were they being attacked?

She felt a familiar tug on her bellybutton, and the slight upset of the stomach as she disapparated.

And then apparated back to the exact same spot.

Strange, she thought, I'm sure that's not supposed to happen…

Something was not right… but she pushed it to the back of her mind.

There were tents everywhere, white-sheeted teepee-looking huts that were surrounded by soldiers, their swords, and their horses. Something was off with this picture too. She remembered the size of the army from the last battle, the sheer number of them; they could only anticipate that this next battle would harbor so many more. She was not daft, and knew they were all preparing themselves for death, there would be no way they could win this time.

She grabbed onto the side of the cart as it started to steer away from the main body of her group toward a different section of tents, and ran through the bodies in front of her to the head of the party where she could see Aragorn conversing with the King on horseback.

"—more will come." The king announced in a finalizing tone, and road slightly off, dismissing Aragorn.

She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and to her un-surprise, Aragorn was not startled.

"Every hour hastens Gondor's defeat." He sighed, and turned his head slightly in her direction. "Go and take some rest My Lady, we have 'till dawn." He turned back and she barely heard him say, "At dawn, we ride."

The maze of tents was actually not that hard to maneuver around (it only took her a few hours and a few well-put threats to find her way), and she surprised herself by being able to find the tent where she spotted Gimli and a few other men whose names she felt she probably should know by now, but just didn't care enough to, drinking deeply from large goblets around a fire. Knowing Gimli wasn't one for garnished greetings, she merely plopped down on the spot next to him on the ground, pulled her arm back, and patted him on his giant burly back, hard; partially out of frustration, and partially because she just wanted to fuck with him.

He gave a startlingly booming laugh and whapped her back in the same manner. She jerked forward and nearly had her face connect with the burning embers if it weren't for her lightning fast reflexes and she stopped herself mere inches from the coals, her eyelashes nearly catching fire.

"Oh, Lass! Making yourself known as quite the joker!" His laughs jiggled the helmet on his bitty head, and she could already' smell the ale on his breath.

"Ugh, you disgusting-" She caught herself before his drunk mind could register what she had said, "Where's the elf?"

He started giggling for some reason or another, and used his burly hand to point to a tent lit softly from the inside by some candles.

She used his shoulder as an aide and pushed herself up, and headed off to the tent. She heard the men get quiet and then laugh out quite loudly at someone's joke, and she had the eerie feeling they were laughing about her. She had half a mind to turn around and curse the lot of them, but then Gandalf's angry face made a flash in her mind, and she made a beeline for the tent.

The door was a mere flap, and she pushed it aside and entered the warm glow of the interior. It was furnished very modestly, with blankets on the floor as makeshift beds; there were four, and side-by-side they were meticulously placed. In the far left, she saw the elf lay, straight on the blanket as if body bound by a jinx.

She suddenly grew very tired, and lay on the blanket next to his, falling asleep as if she had never taken an hours long nap that day.

Her sleep was dreamless, but she thought she was dreaming when she woke to a warm hand creeping up the bottom of her shirt and up the small of her back.

oOo

Why can't Bellatrix apparate properly? What's with the anxiety with the horse? And perhaps more importantly: whose hand is creeping up the skin beneath her clothes?

Find out in the next installment of… The Veil!

A bit short, but I'm sure you know what to do that would be able to fix that…