Yay. Reviews, finally: ). And ones that aren't all complaints. I'm glad you guys like Tera. I was hoping some of you would be able to connect with her. In my eyes, she's a braver person than most of the elves, and more complex and real than Maie was (for Icekube). I'm wondering whether to keep this an action story or make it a Glorfindel-Tera romance. It'll be a rocky relationship, though, and she'll still spit fire at him. Still, it'll be fun. Only problem is, I don't write romance.

.>

They rode without rest until it grew too dark for even elven eyes. Reggie's shadowed coat had long since faded into the night, and Tera knew that she herself was near invisible. She couldn't say she minded; the darkness was a comfort, not a curse, and her rogue's instincts would much rather have it than sunlight.

Cat eyes scanned the land around her. She hadn't informed the elves that she, with eyes honed from the life of an assassin, could see with uncanny ease, and even though her eyesight had by no means the range of an elf, when darkness fell it was she who was superior. Why should she? Even though she very much hated to admit it, she wasn't used to being on horseback for a quarter of the time she had been, and she was more than slightly sore.

She gave her mount a quick scratch, curling her fingers through the patches of limp mane, and felt dampened sweat on his neck. He was fit, there was no question about that, but rest would do him some good, as well.

Tera stretched her legs out of her stirrups for the umpteenth time, willing the cramps to fade. And, for the umpteenth time, felt them disinclined to cooperate.

Damned legs, she thought, glaring downwards.

The fact that most of the elves very politely failed to look in her direction hadn't failed to be noticed by Tera. She had long since realized that much of her chaffed against their sense of propriety. Hair wrenched back into a tangled knot, clothes the color of charcoal, designed to be fit for an assassin and no one else, and blades by a dark elf, used by one such as her. Lines of distaste crept across their faces whenever one, by chance, caught sight of her weapons. She wondered what they would do when she donned her armor as well.

Still, if what she was chaffed at them, what they were did the very same to her. Their attitudes, their compassion, their very. . . rightness, irked her, made her feel somehow beneath them. And Tera would not be beneath anyone.

They could not imagine what she had been through. They had no right to judge her lack of morals, not when they themselves had never experienced her life. Let them try to survive as what she was, see how they would be able to live when life bestowed upon them so little. If they had to live as she did, she very much doubted that they would hold to their values and 'goodness' as they did now.

An elf up in front signaled for them to stop, and the others silently dismounted, setting up camp and talking in low tones elvish words that she would not be able to understand. She swung off her stallion, stifled a groan of pain, and helped without being asked. Thanks were given formally and curtly, with a sense of rudeness and scorn that wasn't –quite –there. She replied in very much the same way. Maybe the elves were masters of subtleness, but she was a thief. Her job was to be subtle.

The only one who actually didn't steer as far from her was, of course, Glorfindel, though Tera rather thought it was merely the fact that she was so vital to his mission that he faked tolerance.

It didn't matter; she was used to being alone.

She deftly untacked her stallion, promising him a proper rubdown –later, before striding towards the rest of the elves, wordlessly helping to gather wood and set up the fire. She offered, not out of goodness but out of duty, to take the third shift on patrol. Then, armed with brush and currycomb and hoof pick, she started at Reggie's coat.

The cool night air had dried the sweat-drenched fur to a crusty sort of texture. Tera immediately attacked it with the currycomb, her stallion leaning into the firm strokes with his eyes half-closed in content. Quest for War with his eyes half shut reminded Tera uncannily of a dozing dragon.

By the time she'd gotten the caked sweat out of Reggie's coat, she was grimly aware that most of what had been on her horse was now on her. And, trading the currycomb for a stiff brush, she knew it was only going to get worse.

Still, her stallion had to be clean and cared for before her. It was his feet carrying them both, after all. And so, gritting her teeth in a little parody of a smile, she went at the coat with the dandy, making sure it was soft and smooth before she allowed herself to stop.

The soft brush was next, and Tera used her whole body to drive brush into fur. Press down, push back, sweep out. She made sure every inch of dust was off her horse before letting up and finishing with her hoof pick.

And now he looked, well, just about as stunning as he would ever be. Even though she dared not touch his tail or his mane –they hardly grew at all, and she treated every individual strand like gold, which grew in clumps of matted hair down his neck, his coat gleamed softly. It wasn't a light-ish black that neared brown, nor a dark ebony that revealed blue when struck by light. No. It was black, a black-black that faded into shadows even when lit by moonlight. It was one of the things that gave him the title 'demon' in Bree, but Tera took pride in it rather than hated it. And the fact that it not shine was unthinkable to her.

Once done with his grooming, Tera dumped his feed onto the ground for him; she didn't think it worthwhile lugging along a feeding bin when Reggie was perfectly content eating from the grass. He had no hobble or lead rope, and was instead allowed to wander free. Maybe another horse would stray, but not hers. Not Reggie.

Only afterwards did she seat herself by the fire, brushing the worst of the grime from her clothes with a faint distaste, and amusement –a thief, afraid of a little dirt! Glorfindel set himself down beside her and offered her dinner by way of. . . a chunk of bread.

Oh, she didn't care if they ignored her, but if they wanted to starve her as well she was going to. . .

The elf laughed quietly at her expression, shaking his head and pushing the waybread into her hands.

"Eat. It is lembas, not those abominations of foods you humans force yourselves to endure. A small piece can fill a grown man with ease, and that would probably be about twice of you, and the taste is incomparable to any fare you have ever had journeying. If you are already to suffer from the travel, why suffer doubly from the food, hmm?"

That did make sense, though of course the elves probably had a lot more time to actually come up with something more palatable than dried meat and salted fish. Tera took an experimental bite of lembas, and had to hid surprise from her face.

It was actually good! Not tolerable, but good!

Evidently, a bit of surprise and pleasure had escaped, for Glorfindel gave another laugh.

"And all this could last you well into tomorrow, if you are careful," he smiled.

Tera nodded slowly, taking time to chew before asking her question.

"How long is it to Rivendell. I do assume it is Rivendell we head to, is it not?"

"Yes, lady. It is no more than two days, at this pace. I must admit that your stallion has surprised us all, being able to keep up with our horses."

"And your horses had me pleasantly surprised as well, being able to keep up with mine," her acerbic reply captured her mood beautifully.

Glorfindel visibly composed himself before replying, calm and collected.

"It seems that every time I give a compliment you mold it into an insult."

"Every time you give a compliment you insult me or my kin," she shot back, "being an elf does nothing for your value, in my eyes."

Glorfindel seemed about to give a cold, icy reply, when Tera froze.

There was something there, in the woods, just moments ago. Something dark, even against the night sky, and tall, even though crouching. Which meant that it was probably human, or shaped somewhat similarly.

Glorfindel caught her tenseness almost before she took that stance, but his inquiry was quickly cut off.

"Warn the others. Something's out there," she murmured softly.

The elf gazed out, and seemed about to brush her comment off, when Tera spoke again.

"A group of them at least," she shot a sharp glare at the ellon, "I'm a thief, goddamn it! My job is to see in the dark. You may not trust me but you will do as I say, if you value your life."

Glorfindel hesitated, then gave a curt nod and shot out quick, low, elvish words. Immediately, hands were at their scimitars and arrows were readied.

It was a few seconds more before the intruders' footsteps were heard.

Quickly, the elves skimmed up trees and other places of hiding. Tera followed suit; why bother with a full-blown attack when one could surprise them in turn? She leaped nimbly up a branch, drawing her blade, and felt the familiar feeling of darkness engulfing her.

There was a tense silence, and then. . .

With a howl, the shadows outside the camp emerged and took form. Orcs, splayed with filth, charged towards the fire. Tera stayed where she was, still and practically invisible, watching as the orcs stopped, confused by the lack of any elf.

It was then that the elves attacked.

The arrows came first, from high up in the trees, seemingly from all directions. The only warning of their arrival, in the darkness of the night, was the silver-white glint of feather, brightened against black.

Chaos broke out as the orcs realized that it was they who were disadvantaged. The elves took advantage of their disorganization, and leaped lightly off their vantage points, drawing their scimitars in midair.

Now the real fighting began.

It was clear to Tera that the orcs, although outnumbering the elves at least three to one, had not the skill that hundreds of years of practice had granted the ellons. They swung wildly; the elves seemed almost to dance as they fought.

She leaped to a neighboring tree, quickly making her way to the edge of the orc party. She had no qualms to attack them from behind. She was a shadow amidst shadows. Of course she was going to take advantage of that.

A smallish orc was furthermost apart, and Tera scaled down to the bottommost branch of her tree, just above him. Straddling the branch with both legs, she silently lowered herself within reach.

He was dead within heartbeats.

Tera quickly took flight once again, staying within the darkness as a pair of orcs glanced at their dead partner. They seemed almost not to care, except that there may be a danger behind them. Tera swore mentally as she saw one looking as if to warn the others surging forwards towards the elves.

She swung from her tree, landing in a fighter's crouch. Hissing, mouth distorted in a snarl, she drew her rapier.

They stood stock still, surprised, and she didn't give them a chance to recover.

Tera lunged at the thinnish one to the left, almost invisible rapier given invisibility by the shadows of the night. He stood not a chance, but his partner charged forwards at her, heavy sword swinging a large arc.

She ducked underneath, merely avoiding, and swung herself towards the orc, much to the thing's surprise. . .

. . .until he realized that her blade was held in front of her, driving into his chest.

Tera let her mouth form a predatory smile, baring her teeth even as she leaped nimbly away.

She was power, she was death. She was Tera. And she was in her element.

A blade driven through the soft flesh of its back saw a stocky archer in a crumpled heap on the ground, and one with a nose that Tera could have sworn was a snout soon after. Her rapier was streaked with the dark stickiness of blood, and smears of sprouted red splayed onto her boots and leggings.

And still she fought.

It was after her seventh –was it eight? –when she caught sight of it.

The orc, larger than the others, with deeply yellowed eyes and sunken, curving teeth. But it was its ears that Tera most noticed.

They were pointed.

It was said that orcs were elves, once, long ago.

Tera never believed them to be more than lies.

This one, obviously the leader, hefted its blade with surprising skill and confidence. As she watched, it lunged towards –was he Glorfindel? – who parried the longsword with a little difficulty.

And not surprisingly, for Tera saw that the elf was fighting off another orc behind him at the same time.

She didn't hesitate, but hefted her dagger and flicked it, with the deadly aim of an assassin, at the leader.

It struck true, honing in on the orc's left eye, and driving through soft tissue into its brain.

It never stood a chance.

The battle ended soon after.

Tera wiped her rapier clean on her tunic –it was beyond any semblance of cleanliness, anyway, and returned it to its scabbard.

"That is considered a raiding party?" she demanded as she strode to retrieve her dagger.

"Now? Yes, it is. And if things continue as they are, the orcs will most certainly grow even more in numbers," Glorfindel voice was grim now, slightly hollow with fatigue and something Tera couldn't, quite, place, "but that was well fought, lady."

Tera grunted a reply, wrenching her dagger from the orc's eye socket.

"It's what I do, elf."

She caught sight of a little, leather pouch in the orc's jerkin, and without hesitation sliced its straps, starting to tuck her loot in her belt pouch. She looked up again to find Glorfindel's appalled gaze on her.

"Never looted from your victims?" she asked sarcastically, ". . .figures."

His gaze upon her made her feel low, dirtied, rather like scum. Her chin raised stubbornly in defense, and fire flew again into her eyes.

"You need not take from filth such as these," his reasonable tone chaffed further, "you do not need the gold. Why do you steal?"

She glared, resentment a burning coal in her heart.

"You forget who I am, elf."

Her voice was low and full of warning.

"You are a rogue."

His purposeful rewording of what she was tore a jagged slash into Tera's pride.

"I'm a thief. And don't you ever forget that."

And then, jaw clenched in anger, she turned on her heel and strode off into her only ally, into the darkness of the night.