They began to crawl as swiftly as possible and Amera winced as the pain in her side flared, her elbows propelling her through the thick grass. She bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder and sighed with relief as the orcs continued to feast on their companion, trying her very best to ignore the thick, watery sounds of tearing and gnashing lest she vomit, which they certainly did not have the time for. They scurried as quickly as their binds and aching limbs would allow towards the shadowed trees, tall and proud as they loomed overhead into the night sky.
However, Amera froze as she heard a strange noise in the distance. She narrowed her eyes as she looked to the south and nudged the hobbits to stop, focusing intently. Then, without warning, the ground beneath them began to shake, the tremors steadily increasing as the noise grew loud and louder. Pippin gasped from beside her and she looked around, preparing herself for whatever was approaching. A loud cry pierced the night; the voices of men ringing together and echoing through the moonlit plains. Amera and the hobbits were still for but a moment longer, blinking in shock, but began to move once more as Merry hissed, "Hurry!"
The ground was shaking so furiously now that Amera whimpered in pain as her ribs smacked against the rocky ground, the leather cutting mercilessly into her bloodied wrist as she dragged herself towards the shadows of Fangorn. She then recognized the sound, for once the great steeds of the Earnur's army had thundered through the valleys of Evendim, their hoof beats echoing through the canyons and glades as they had galloped to meet Angmar head on. She looked over her shoulders, her eyes widening as the silhouettes of men and horses were dark against the starry sky, growing larger as they grew closer.
A cry went up amongst the orcs and she gasped as the riders charged into the fray, their spears glinting in the moonlight as they struck down all in their path. Gurgling roars and snarls matched the fair cries of men as the skirmish began, the dark blood of orcs, horses and men staining the copper earth beneath their feet. Recognizing that their best chance for escape now lay in swiftness, Amera struggled to rise but managed to make it onto her feet. Leaning down, she helped the hobbits up, but fell and rolled to the side as a horse galloped past her, its eyes wide with fright as froth poured from its mouth. "Run!" She cried as she rose to her knees but fell down once more as the ground heaved beneath her, crying out as her jaw collided with the dirt. Merry and Pippin stared at her in shock and terror, dodging the horses and men that towered over their heads as the chaos continued. She finally made it to her feet with a growl of pain, cursing the loose tendrils of her that fell around her face as she yelled, "I will meet you in the forest! Now go!"
Pippin took a step towards her, confused as he opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as she cried, "I need my sword! Wait for me in the forest!" Merry grabbed him and they ran, their backs turned to her as she hurriedly scanned the battle, searching for any sign of her blade as she ran. Her boots jumped over the bodies of both men and orc-kind as she chewed furiously as her leather bindings, cursing as she was unable to free herself. The cries of the dying and wounded were enough to make her head spin as she struggled onwards, kicking down the occasional orc as she sprinted through the field. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of silver and knelt, trembling with adrenaline as she worked her bonds against the dull edge of one of the uruk's swords. She let out a small cry of triumph as the strips fell away, revealing a bloody circle curling around her wrists. She carried not as she hurried on, picking up the sword and slashing through the fray as she made her way to the campfire.
And there it lay among the weeds, where she had seen Ugluk drop it just minutes earlier. She wrapped her hand around the familiar grip and grinned as it flickered in the firelight, as lethal and beautiful as ever it had been. Amera struggled to contain her breath as the heat of battle surged through her veins, focusing her mind on reaching Fangorn as she took off at a sprint through the chaos. And there, just up ahead, she spied two green cloaks disappear in the thick woods and rejoiced inwardly for she knew Merry and Pippin had made it. However, her victory was short lived as she was suddenly thrust to the ground, crying out in surprise as a rider toppled from his steed and onto her, his horse whinnying as it galloped madly away.
Scrambling to free herself from beneath his dead weight, for she could feel his blood staining her already filthy hauberk, she finally rose with a cry of disgust as she stared at the dark crimson that soiled her hands. Amera was captivated by it for a moment in her utter exhaustion, at the way the moonlight gleamed richly in the lifeblood of another as it dripped from her fingertips, but her thoughts were broken as a horse shrieked in pain from behind her. She turned instinctively, watching helplessly as the proud steed was gutted by the thick sword of an uruk, it's rider toppling onto the ground as it fell in agony. She looked back over her shoulder towards the forest where Merry and Pippin waited for here then back to the fallen rider, who struggled to rise as the beast loomed over him.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to slow, growing silent as her mind flickered with memories. She watched the uruk take another step as the rider drug himself backwards, clutching his side as a dark stain began to grow from beneath his armor. She felt the weight of her precious blade in her hand, its touch as familiar as a lover's as her rushing adrenaline ignored the enormous pain that surged through her body. Once, she had defended one of the Eldar as he had laid stricken before the Witch-king, fearful of the great doom that rose before him and now she had no choice but to save this fallen man, to defy the monstrosity that rose before him as she had once before.
With a cry, she rushed forward and drew her blade back before slicing into the neck of the Uruk-hai, who howled with pain for but a moment as his head was severed. Torrents of blood sprung from his neck as the body twitched and fell to the side, the head rolling towards the foot of the rider. She met the eyes of the man she had just saved, wide with confusion and terror from beneath his helm as he stared at her. She held out a hand to him, which was declined as he recoiled fiercely, and she remembered she most likely looked like more an enemy than an ally in her blood stained robes, her dark hair streaming over her bruised face as she looked down at him.
The rider rose to his feet, his confused gaze never leaving hers as he clutched his side and cried out, "What are you?" over the roar of the battle. She smiled very faintly for a moment and stated simply, "A friend." Amera then turned and sprinted towards the edge of Fangorn, cutting down anything that lay in her path without remorse. Her blade flashed in the pale light as she turned and struck down an uruk, her chest heaving as the memory of Boromir flashed through her mind. Another orc appeared beside her and she roared in it's face as she drove her blade into its neck as memories continued to flood her consciousness. Of the way he had looked at her as he had fallen to his knees. The way his chest had risen and fallen so slowly with the weight of two arrows. The way he had cried out to her, his voiceso greatly pained. Of the way they had both known he was going to die.
Only did she become aware of the tears streaming down her face when she tasted their saltiness as they washed over her lips. She blinked once, looking at the piles of the dead that surrounded her and the thick blood that dripped from her hands with horror. She had lost herself in the heat of battle and a vain attempt at revenge for the one she had lost, in the process forgetting the hobbits. She bit back what tears remained as she sprinted towards the forest's edge, desperate to drive the sounds of the dying and wounded from her mind as she sought silence and rest beneath the gnarled branches.
Amera gasped with relief as she dove into Fangorn, gasping for breath as her body became aware of her bruises and pain while the rush of adrenaline slowly faltered. She wiped her sleeve around her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ears as she scanned the dark forest, calling out for Merry and Pippin. She waited in silence for a moment, for they were no doubt hiding somewhere behind the aged trunk of the giants that towered above her, and felt a shiver run down her spine.
There was a certain familiarity to the forest that had engulfed her, for even now she could not hear the sounds of battle nor any rustlings of birds and wild creatures. No, it was silent and dark save for the occasional beam of moonlight that had made its way through the thick leaves and branches above her head. The air itself was mustier than the library at Rivendell, she realized as she let out a tiny cough, seemingly undisturbed. Leaning against a tree, her sword still clutched tightly in her right hand, she called out once more as she searched for them amongst the dark, hazy shapes spread before her.
She was greeted with silence.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Amera's mind was blank save for the thought of finding the hobbits as her feet clumsily sank into the soft earth, each step taking up more energy than the last as she drug herself further and further in the dark of Fangorn. She had lost all sense of time long ago and had lost count of the amount of times she had called out for Merry and Pippin, her spirit sinking as each hope of a response from broken. Her throat screamed for water while her stomach's constant growls reminded her that she had not eaten in several days as she trekked, her sword limp in her hand as she had lost the energy to hold it at the ready.
Every now and then, she would trip over a hidden root, crying out as her face was slammed into the soft moss and each time it became harder to get her to feet. Her mind whispered for her to rest, to soothe her aching limbs, but she blocked out all save for the hobbits, lost somewhere beneath the twisting trees and winding branches. She was going to find them, she vowed, no matter how long it took or what lay between them.
And so it was that she froze in horror, her senses instantly sharp, as she stared at a small pool of blood that glistened in the shadows. She knelt, trembling slightly as her gaze followed a small trail of droplets further into the forest. She rose and sprinted as fast she could, careful to never lose sight of bloodstains, which grew steadily larger and larger as she went deeper into Fangorn. Biting her lip in anxiety and struggling to keep out the horrible images that flooded her mind, she stopped as the mangled corpse of an orc lay before her.
She gasped slightly, her eyes widening in horror was she was unable to turn away as she stared at the unbelievably large amount of blood that had soaked the green earth around the orc, though in truth it was difficult to tell what it had once more. For now, it was a pulpy mess of angled limbs and jumbled organs, as if an enormous rock had suddenly fallen upon it. She began to call out for Merry and Pippin with renewed urgency, recoiling as she spied what appeared to be enormous footprints that led away from the corpse. Her mind initially refused to believe such, for the strange prints embedded deep in the earth reached out unlike any foot she had ever seen, like twisting roots instead of toes.
And there, she saw as she fell to her knees in defeat, pressed deep into the moss, lie a strip of green cloak from the hobbit's cloak, matching the own that covered her back. Whatever had crushed the orc with such reckless cruelty now had Merry and Pippin. In her delay at the camp, they had been taken by something she could not fathom, something ancient and terrible in its power.
She had lost them.
As Amera stared with blank eyes at the scene before her, her sword falling from her hand, her emotions stirred deep with her heart and threatened to rise further as she was bombarded with memories long buried. She closed her eyes, gasping and trembling as she once more saw the hopelessness in Boromir's shining eyes, the fingertips of Gandalf as they had slid along the shattered bridge before his fall, the mischievous grins of her beloved Merry and Pippin. A thousand recollections rippled through her all at once, stealing her breath with their intensity as centuries of pain, anger and grief flooded her spirit. The comfort of Nienna's words were lost unto her as her bloodied hands began to shake, her eyes widening as she gasped for breath and all that she had locked away within the depths of her mind was renewed.
Unable to control herself any longer, she gave into her pain and cried out from the depths of her soul, her agony slipping in her voice as it echoed through the forest. She cared not who heard her for she cared for nothing anymore. Her body wished for tears, to convey her suffering in some soft beauty, but there were no tears left in her as she screamed, forgetting everything but the torrent of emotions that drowned her. Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her cry as the veins in her neck strained, her eyes wide as her lungs screaming for rest, for some small breath of oxygen.
She collapsed then and her bruised body shook as she wept emptily, her fingers digging into the cool moss and earth that rested beneath her. However, just as she was to close her eyes in utter exhaustion, she suddenly saw her shadow before her. She blinked once, drawing her tongue over her lips slowly as she struggled to understand what was happening as pure white light seemed to pour over her, illuminating the thick, tangled roots of the trees that rose above her. There was brief, momentary confusion and then she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, from whence the light came.
Amera swallowed hard, her grief forgotten as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword as she took a deep breath and prepared herself to face Saruman the White, who chuckled from behind her as he questioned, "And what have we here?"
