Author's Notes: Back again, here's the next chapter. After this story I might start writing one for Supernatural. Though I have only watch season 7 and 8 and half of season 1 but hay I know the plots for every season.

The White Hand

Aragorn sped off into the forest. "Aragorn!" Sam shouted as he stumbled after him like a drunken boy who had drunk mead for the first time.

I felt a soothing warmth coursing my veins. My senses were sharper than they had ever been before. I looked at Horus. His eyes were glowing and his feather were alight in blue flames.

Legolas stood in front of me and bent down to pick up the sketchpad. "The moon's not up" He whispered as he put it into my hands.

I ran to my pack and placed the book under my bag of clothes. I picked up my bow. I pulled my cloak's hood over my head. I looked up and saw Horus flying into the air with the sound of combusting wood rumbling in the skies after him, trying to catch up.

The world ran onwards leaving us all to catch up. We ran like skittish deer through the forest. Not paying attention to what was around us, we still ran on. I notched at arrow as I ran. I fired it still behind the tree line. It soared into air then into an unsuspecting Uruk-Hai. It fell to the ground. Dead.

I spotted Horus soaring down like a flare in the night. Blue flames jumped from him and into the air like extensions of his wings, burning and setting alight to Uruk-Hai. I picked off any stray Uruk-Hai. Their armour and hide were thick and hard to break past unless you aimed at the weak spots. My senses mixed with Horus's were faster and more precise. I ducked unders and around sharp blades that swung violently in my way. My arrows soon ran out and I found myself collecting them back up whilst still dodging black curved blades.

I yanked my last arrow out of a dead Uruk-Hai's neck and embed it into another chest before it could grab me. I rolled out of the way from the falling body.

One particularly ugly Uruk-Hai stooped over me about to rise his blade. I quickly pushed my legs into the air and wrapped my feet around it's neck. With a movement with my right foot that rested on it's check bone, I snapped it's neck and broke it's jaw. I kicked it away from me and got to my feet.

It was no close combat and a fight where it would be danger to still use a bow. Slipped my bow into my quiver and whipped out Drethan and Thsan. Dodging had now changed into a disarming and blocking blade again blade. For some reason I loved the sound of clashing swords and the rush you get in a fight.

Black blood had been spilt on the ground and more was to be spilt. They kept coming like an endless enemy army.

A horn filled the air and ran across the hills, valleys and mountains of Middle Earth. It called out again. This was the Horn of Gondor. The horn that belonged to Boromir. I finished off an Orc and ran off into the forest to where I heard the call of the horn.

Dried leaves were set upon the ground, making it impossible to run without making a sound. I sheathed Drethan and Thsan as I ran, knowing it would be easier running without holding blades in each hand. The horn kept blowing into the air. The call had become more urgent. I skidded down a steep incline and kept running.

When I arrived I found a horrid scene. Around Boromir was a circle of dead Uruk-Hais and Orcs. But it was what was in Boromir that made me cringe. Two black arrows with thorn's still on the arrow were producing from Boromir's chest. He kept fighting on but his left side was droopy and weak. Pippin and Merry coward in the corner of the trees holding their blades, defensively.

I ran out from behind and tree, whipping out my bow and knocking an arrow to the bowstring. I pulled it back and fired an arrow into the chest of a charging Uruk-Hai. But it still did not go down.

It knocked me to the ground. The air in my lungs were gone. A blackness went over my eyes. I laid on the ground in a daze for a second then got to my feet. My head stung and there was ringing in my ears and my left wrist felt someone had dropped a heavy stone on it. The ground felt uneven under my feet. I pulled out my throwing knife I had on my belt and held it my right hand. Flames grew round the tip of the knife. With a flick of my working wrist I flew the flaming knife into the throat of the Uruk-Hai that had charged me down and was making it's way to Pippin and Merry. It fell at their feet in a heap.

Boromir was no longer able to fight. He helplessly knelt looking at the Halfings, looking for words to say he could not form. He coughed and up came blood. With blood dripping down his mouth he spoke. "Sorry, you have to run. They're not just looking for the ring." He coughed again and spat blood into the leaves. His hand reached for his horn and one more bellow of the Horn of Gondor was heard.

Two small black dots hurtled towards me like little flies. But they were not menacing bugs, they were thorns, blown out by an Orc. I tried to dodge but instead they went into my neck. I desperately tried to scratch them out. Blood was on my hand and falling down my neck onto my collarbones.

Great, these are bloody stronger than the last lot.

Instead if seeing double, I saw nothing. My legs felt like jelly. I stumbled my hand only just catching a hold of a branch. With my eyes looking at the ground it seemed the ground was spinning so fast that it looked like a spiral of leaves.

Pippin looked at me with a shifting face that looked like his skin was melting wax. He held out my bow to me. "Stay close for a moment" I whispered to the young Hobbits. A anger had dug it's way, deep into my mind and head. Saruman was going to pay and so were his twisted creations.

They ran ever so closer. By my guess doing this would make the reaction the chloroform in the thorns more fast. "After this your gonna have to run. No matter what run." I said closing my eyes on the world.

My heart drummed in a faster beat. There was a deep warmth in my chest. A silent peace. A loud shout of nothingness. My body felt warm like I stood before a roaring fire. I pictured a line of fire in front of me. It raising and falling.

"Run" It barely came out in a word. A tiredness had swept over me. A darkness behind the eyes and in the mind. A forgetful moment. A loss of feeling. A breath before the plunge into a pool of blank dreams.