A/N: Yay! Okies, guys sorry it took so long. I'm in the middle of another move, as usual. And then an unexpected vacation and work and…eh. Well you get the idea. Life in general. So good to hear from all of you reviewers! This chapter is dedicated to ceres51892 for just being awesome! :D Hope you guys like this one!

Disclaimer: Nope!

~~~Chapter Fifteen~~ It Will Begin In Rohan

Bealocwealm hafao freone freacan forth onsended An evil death has set forth the noble warrior

Giedd sculon singan gleomenn sorgiende A song shall sing sorrowing mistrels

On Meduselde poet he ma no woere In Meduseld that he is no more

His dryhtne durest and moege deorost To his lord dearest and kinsmen most belover

Bealo… An evil death…

The settlement was surrounded by high timbers all around the city and one could look past and see the snowy peak of Starkhorn across the valley Harrowdale. It was a magnificent sight. The five of them made their way up the stairs of Meduseld, the Golden Hall though the reception they received at the doors was less than enthusiastic about their arrival. Guards met them at the doors to the hall, on edge and looking decidedly unhappy about their situation. The Captain's eyes roved over them all much as Eomer's had, pausing on Valo. He could only imagine what the guard was thinking. He didn't look like he fit in with this group. An Istari, a Ranger, an Elf Archer and a Dwarf Warrior. And then small, insignificant looking Valo. At least he didn't mistake him for a girl this time. His cheeks still burned at the memory. How…humiliating.

"I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue." The last sentence seemed to pass through the guards lips like something foul and unpleasant as the name he uttered. It seemed that the darkness did not feel the need to extend energy to encompass the Guard. Intriguing.

Indeed did the King feel so threatened by his friends and allies now that he was to be so suspicious of mere travelers? Of course they were far from ordinary travelers but the people of Rohan didn't know that. The feel of his Master's taint pulsed from the inside of the Hall like some thick noxious miasma. The people of Rohan may not know that…but his Master did. Valo dreaded in his heart the day that his Master discovered where he was. What he had been doing and who he was with. His eyes flicked over the rightful heir to Isilidur's throne. The one that could rally the world of Man together to fight against his Master. His Master would be so furious…so disappointed. His companions began handing over their weapons warily. None were entirely pleased and for good reason. The darkness from the inside of the Hall was thick. It had been festering here for some time now. Long enough for it to feel sure of itself.

Valo felt a growing smugness build inside him and Gandalf gave him a discreet wink. Theirs was a weapon that no man could take. As Gandalf had already proven, not even death could steal their magic away. The doors opened and the Captain led them inside. The inside of the Hall was darker, a stark contrast to the bright day outside. Torches around the room gave little light that the shuttered windows could have illuminated. A brush, almost a whisper, of pleasure danced through Valo's mind, nearly making his very steps falter. It was a dark emotion that he didn't understand. An emotion that was not his own. It sent a thrill of fear through his heart. What was it? Was it his Master or the voice inside his mind? Was someone else seeing through his eyes? Experiencing what he saw through him? It was gone as soon as it had arrived. A wisp of smoke on the wind. Valo had almost doubted it's existence if not for the voice in his mind sitting up and taking notice of it as well. He could feel the presence's recognition of it even if he didn't recognize it himself.

'Fear not. It is no danger to you. Leave it to me and pay attention to what's happening around you.'

Valo immediately turned back to the King. What an embarrassing way to die. Surrounded by warriors too. The voice was right. It would do no one any good for him to get skewered now because he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. It had never failed him before after all. No matter what, the voice had never lied to him.

"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened as of late, Theoden King." Gandalf spoke loud and long.

Valo could not make out the King's response through his wariness of the guards starting to surround them on all sides. They were watching and waiting, their grips on their weapons secure as if they expected a fight to the death. Perhaps they did. He could only tell that the King's words were halting and liken to the sound of dried crinkling leaves at the peak of fall. Just barely holding onto their mother tree. The King's advisor, the one whom he could only assume was this Grima Wormtongue that the Captain had spoken of, stood to proclaim his own greeting. It was just as warm as the guard's own. Warm as the peaks of Starkhorn, that is.

"Late is the hour in which this conjuror chooses to appear! Lots spell, I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." The man hissed, approaching them as if he held some importance to the world.

Valo sneered at him, the dislike rising in him like a tide. The Advisor's eyes alighted on him and the man's footsteps halted completely. He took a short step backwards, his eyes, black as oil spills, widening with fear and awe. Aragorn looked at Valo for a moment, his question over Wormtongue's reaction clear in his kind eyes. Gandalf began to approach the King, his staff out and at the ready. The others launched into battle with the guards. No one noticed the small figure backing a shaking man into a dark corner alone. No one noticed how his shadow morphed behind him on the floor like some living thing, now the image of some great terrifying beast than a teenager. It morphed to resemble the shadow of some large serpentine, winged monster. When Valo spoke, his voice was clipped with a hiss as if he had swallowed a snake. Wormtongue stumbled to the floor in his fear, trying to escape the adolescent approaching him slowly. Valo fed off of his fear like a heady tonic. Thrilling, making the blood warm and stir like liquor.

"My Lord, p-please! Let me be of some use to you! Do not send me to the Pit!" His voice stammered and whimpered in the face of the boy-creature before him.

Valo's eyes blazed orange and for a few precious moments he knew nothing as the voice within him took hold. He sneered down at the crouched, shaking figure on the floor. Surely Wormtongue would piss himself in terror at any second. It was a sight he did not care to see as entertaining as the man's fear was. Could a person die of terror? It was an intriguing thought. He glanced back at the old Wizard exorcising Saruman's influence from the King. Such a waste of effort. The Istari would have to be punished for losing his grip on Rohan. His attentions turned back to the stuttering mess at his feet.

"Go to Isenguard. Leave now and remain unseen. Go into the service of the Wizard there. Now before I decide to let Theoden kill you instead, you worthless maggot." He hissed out, disgust and power lacing his voice.

Wormtongue wasted no time at all. He scurried through a side door like the rat he was. No doubt he had taken the high road out of Rohan as quickly as his traitorous legs could carry him. He reminded him of another, the similarities to the spineless worm too close for his tolerance. Valo took a breath and winced. As he opened his eyes the orange faded away and he returned to his right mind. His shadow fell back to normal behind him, it's owner none the wiser to it's change. He frowned, looking around quickly. Why was he in the corner? He must have come here for safety, away from the battle. Hadn't his inner voice just told him it was no use getting skewered? He was weaponless afterall and his magic unreliable on most days. The Fellowship had handled it rather well. With an inward grin, he returned to Aragorn's side just as the King was shaking off Saruman's influence with a groan. The air within Meduseld slowly returned to normal, the air easier to breath and somehow warmer within the Hall.

~`o`~

Valo was sent into a room to sleep rather than stay up and bare witness to the funeral of the only heir to Rohan's throne. Even still as he strayed into sleep, Valo could hear the funeral song that Eowen sand out to the heavens. He tried to let his sadness for the King's son outweigh the fear of sleeping but as darkness sucked at his conscience, his Master called for his submission.

The room was dark and surrounded with candlelight. Sconces burned at the edges of the stone room. He was standing next to a large throne, stretching up tall enough to touch the tall ceiling. Valo knew where he was in an instant. How many times had he walked this very room while his Master held court with his minions and allies? He was in the throne room of the Black Fortress. Barad-dur. It was where he had lived for Ages before he had been sent after his Master's first fall to Minas Morgul. What he didn't know was why he was not in his Master's bed like he had been every other time he had come into these visions. A dark figure, cloaked in black and metal armor stood across from him, watching his presence calmly. It was the image of his Master before Isilidur. The image he remembered of him before the last time he had been sent to sleep.

"You have done well, my pet. Sending the worm to my puppet instead of letting him go to waste. It pleases me greatly to know that I can count on you to carry out my will."

Valo could feel his Master's pleasure with him in his body, causing a low shiver to race through him. A warmth that he seldom felt now filled him and he purred. Valo slumped bonelessly against the side of the throne as the embodiment of his Master approached him.

"Master…will you…will you be whole again soon? Will I see you again soon?" Valo stammered softly, watching his Master sit down in the throne and take him into his arms like he were a child.

He felt more than heard the dark chuckle in his soul. It was moments like that that reinforced his belief that his Master created him. How else could he touch the very innermost part of him with no regard to space or time or physical boundary?

"Oh my little Consort…Yes, I am close now. I get closer with every small victory. Very soon now I will have another victory. And then another. It won't be long now…" He admitted, stroking the soft dark hair of the child he held.

Valo frowned. Two more victories? Soon?

"Another, Master?"

He could hear the dark glee, the amusement in the Dark Lord's voice. It was clear that he was self-assured. Some memory told Valo that he ha always been this way. That at one time there was only one man that his Master feared…

"Oh yes, my pet. Soon my puppet will triumph over Rohan and then over Gondor. It is already beginning. Soon I will hold you while we stand at the forefront of the world in my image. A new dawn."

Valo trembled slightly at the thought. Rohan and then Gondor. His Master had given him a small peak into his plans and the prospect terrified him. Once those two strongholds gave way the there would be no recovering from it. Mordor's forces would spill into Middle Earth and the world of Men would fall. Once those two great lands fell, there would be no stemming the slaughter. As his Master held him that night, Valo could not stop the trembling in his mind and heart. The end approached.