She smelled the smoke before she saw it, blinking as its crisp, acidic essence assaulted her senses with an intensity that startled her as she galloped across the plains. It stung her eyes and swarmed around her in thick waves like a cloak, but a minute later she found its source as her horse rounded the top of a hill overlooking a small valley, the great forest of Fangorn a hazy green in the distance. There, at the bottom of the crest lay the smoldering ruins of a farm and a small mill, their timber broken and ashen as they cracked and fell.

Amera knew it was foolish to approach such, but nonetheless found herself dismounting and sprinting down the hill with all speed her wear legs could give her after a day and night of swift travel. She lost her footing against a loose stone and found herself rolling down the hill with a speed that alarmed her, wincing repeatedly as her ribs and bones slammed against the rocky ground. However, as soon as she had stopped, she sprung into a crouch and drew her sword with inhuman speed, chastising herself for making such an obvious mistake in such a dangerous situation. Still, she sighed with relief as she rose shakily to her feet, for the farm remained silent beside the crackling of dying embers. She coughed once, blinking as the thick smoke billowed from the ruins of the thatch hut and stung her eyes, lifted her cowl up to allow herself some filtered air as she carefully scanned the scene before her.

She trembled as her gaze fell upon the butchered carcass of a old horse, large strips of meat cut away from its weathered body as the flies and birds of carrion pecked away what was left. Her lip curled as realized that the Uruk-Hai would surely not have taken the time, nor known properly, how to cut away meat from a horse. That meant that the Dunlendings, the wild men of the hills had done this, though where they were now, she could not guess. Her boots crunched over the charred wood and straw as she slowly approached the tiny hut that had no doubt served as a home, its thatch roof half burned away as the remaining timbers that shakily supported it. She gripped her sword tightly, her knees slightly bent in preparation should something unfriendly greet her as she stepped into the doorway.

Amera staggered backwards, nearly vomiting as the thick, iron scent of blood swept over her like a wave. Her vision tilted and she clumsily grasped the beams of the doorframe as she gagged, gasping for fresh air as her legs threaten to collapse beneath her. A few moments later, she steeled herself and bit down roughly on her lip as she entered the hut. It was difficult to see, at first, and she waved her hand to clear away the dry smoke, her narrowed gaze scanning over the simple contents of the hut. Two straw beds were covered with neatly embroidered quilts, sewn with the images of horses and mountains familiar to the Rohirrim. A small fireplace was in the corner and a battered pot lay on the earthen floor beside it, its contents scattered. It was then that Amera froze, her hands trembling by her sides as she spied the pool of blood that had not yet sunk into the dry ground, thickly shimmering as she followed its trail.

There, in the corner, lay the fallen bodies of the farmer and his wife, perfectly still as the dark stains soaked their rough, homespun clothes. She began to shake fiercely, her mind void of all emotion as she spied another, smaller form behind them, curled up against the timber walls of the hut. It was the corpse of a small boy, his wide blue eyes unstaring as he slumped, his tiny hand seeming almost to reach for his mothers. A dry, choked sob escaped her mouth as her vision tilted once more and she found herself falling back onto the bed, unable to tear her gaze away from the scene before. The man had been fair and tall, handsome once, though now his face was bloodied and bruised. His wife lay beside him, curls as dark as her own following over a face that had been pretty, though worn with stress.

She realized that they had died trying to protect their son, no doubt begging for his life, for some mercy before the Dunlendings had cut them down. And it had been in vain.

Amera doubled over and began to vomit emptily, her shoulders shaking as her body trembled with a ferocity she had never known. All the while, her mind whispered that in another life, by one slight twist of fate, she could be lying there, broken and battered before the body of her child in a simple, loved home that had been ravaged. Her dark hair could be mingled with dirt and blood, her pale eyes unseeing. It could have, so very easily, been her.

There came a soft, gentle noise from behind her and she reflexively turned, drawing her sword as she prepared to defend herself. However, her eyes widened and the blade fell from her hand, shattering the silence as it clattered against the earthen floor. Amera rushed forward, falling to her knees as she caught the young girl, her tiny body collapsing into her arms as she cradled her. Her flaxen, golden hair was tousled and dirtied as it fell over Amera's arms, the girl whimpering as her blue eyes widening, glazed with pain as they stared into Amera's face.

She was so very young, Amera stared, unable to form words as she looked over the child that lay dying in her arms, her gaze falling to the crimson stain that she knew was beyond healing. The girl gave a little shudder and Amera feel her delicate, fragile bones shift as she whispered, "Momma, where…where is Corin?"

Amera realized then, that in her pain and shock, the beautiful, broken child in her arms had mistaken her for her mother. Her jaw dropped and she stammered at first, her hands shaking as she cradled the girl as gently as she could. She pressed her head carefully to her chest, burying her lips as she whispered, her voice trembling, "He's sleeping, love. Shhhh," She did her best to smile through the hot sting of tears, wanting more than anything to comfort the girl, "Quiet now, lest you wake him."

There was a brief pause and the girl paused, her voice steady with a calm Amera could not understand, "It hurts, Momma." Amera wished more than anything to know the girl's name in that moment, to whisper it in her hair as the child's labored breathing grew slower and slower, her vibrant eyes growing dull. "I..I know, love." Amera kissed her forehead, holding back the sobs that threatened to rise up in her chest and pour out. "Be still now, and know," Amera swallowed hard, closing her eyes as cradled the trembling girl even closer, "And know that I will let nothing hurt you."

The girl drew in one last, shaky breath and allowed a gentle smile to cross the freckled face now stained with blood and dirt. Her shimmering eyes grew glassy, her fragile form growing still in her Amera's arms as she looked down with wide eyes, choked breaths escaping her mouth as the girl slipped away into death.

Amera pulled the girl close, pressing her lips into her dirtied hair over and over again as she rocked back and forth, sobbing emptily as she cradled the child that should not have known such suffering close. It was then, as she wept beneath the ashen timbers, her heart breaking with an agony she could never have imagined she might be able to endure, that she understood the true cost of war.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It had been a carefree night, almost an enjoyable one as Ragni and the others had roasted the horse meat from the farm, gathering around the fire as they listened to the crackling meat and warmed themselves against the harsh night air as it swept across the endless plains. They had looked over the stolen trinkets they had collected off the corpses, scowling at the battered, crude pieces of jewelry as they glittered in the firelight. Still, if nothing else, they had had a bit of fun earlier, the first chance for their weapons to taste the blood of the damned horse-folk in far too long.

The five Dunlendings had gathered their filthy leathers and hides around their bodies as they prepared to rest for the night, tossing their weapons aside, for there was no fear. They were utterly alone in the plains and had seen none but the farmer and his family in a week. Ragni was confused, to say the least, as he was awakened by a mottled scream, his hand desperately searched for his axe in the dirt beside his head as he searched for the source of the cry. His eyes widened as he watched a great shadow appear, tall and utterly void of features, save for two burning eyes that flashed as swiftly as its blade. The peaceful night air was punctured by the screams of his companions as the shadow moved with inhuman speed towards them, torrents of blood darkening the stars above. He was utterly stricken with terror, paralyzed as he watched his companions fall one by one, the shining, slaughtering blade striking again and again mercilessly. The heavy scent of iron assaulted his senses and for a moment Ragni swayed, his vision faltered as it swirled the colors of fire and the night.

There was a great silence then and his eyes widened as the creature turned to him, its terrible eyes seeming to tear into his soul as it strode towards him and he imagined the shadows of the plains clung to it, shrouding the evil that lay beneath. He knew of the legends, all of his kin had since childhood, of the great demons that stalked the plains of the horselords, but had thought such were but warnings to the younglings who dreamt of ventured beyond their villages.

Yet there was no doubt in his trembling heart as his eyes focusing on the thick droplets of crimson that slowly fell from the strange blade, that there was truth in the warnings of his elders and that he gazed now upon dovodiad, a demon of the plains. It snarled at him in disgust, a feral sound that chilled him to the bone, and he found himself weeping helplessly, burying his face in his hands as he fell before the creature, unable to form even the simple 'no' in his utter tettor.

He gasped then, as the demon spoke with the voice of a young woman and looked up into the face of one of the most beautiful maidens he had ever seen, though her beauty was terrible as she gazed down upon him with burning eyes. He recoiled in horror as it suddenly occurred to him that the demon had no doubt stolen the form of some poor, young girl that had been lost upon the plains, twisting her gentle features into the monstrosity that towered above him. Great waves of power rolled from its form and he flinched as it spat, its voice cutting as it snarled, "Look at me."

Ragni trembled, a sob escaping his throat. He cried out as he was dealt a savage kick and the voice roared, "Look at me!"

Blinking away tears, he looked up slowly and cringed, waiting for the stained blade to move towards him with the brutality that had been shown to his companions, their mangled forms lying but a few feet from him. There was another pause and then voice spoke once more, growling each word as if it was a cold and calculated poison. "You will return to your master, to Saruman, and you will deliver a message. Is that clear.?"

Ragni's jaw dropped in confusion and he wondered what interest a demon had in the affairs of the White Wizard, but his thoughts were interrupted as the demon roared, striking him savagely in the face, "Is that clear?"

He nodded repeatedly and swiftly, attempting to smile through his rotted teeth so that the shadow would understand. It was silent for a moment longer, then the voice began to speak slowly, each word precise. "You will go to Saruman and you will tell him that the Aeliniel is dead." Ragni nodded hurriedly and it continued, "You will tell him that the Dagorwen has risen in her place and that," The voice snarled, contempt rolling from its words, "She does not show mercy. She will see him dead by her blade and no other."

Ragni waited for more and upon hearing nothing, rose shakily to his feet as he prepared to deliver the message as swiftly as possible. However, the arm of the creature shot out and pushed him back down roughly, its eyes glittering with unbridled fury as the soft lips narrowed, "Hold out your hands."

He watched as the great blade was lowered towards him and he began to weep, but held them out nonetheless as he waited for his inevitable death. He closed his eyes, great sobs wracking his filthy body, and howled in both surprise and confusion as the sword was drawn roughly across his outstretched palms, slicing deeply into them with no effort. His eyes flew open and he stared the demon, clutching his bleeding hands close as he trembled and wept.

The voice was eerily calm now, though colder than ever before as it emotionlessly stated. "Your hands will forever be stained with the blood of the innocent you needlessly slaughtered. Go now," The shadows around the creature swirled as it turned its back to him, the beautiful, terrible face hidden as it spat, "And deliver my message to Saruman."

A moment later and it had disappeared into the shadows of the plains, leaving Ragni to weep in absolute terror.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Amera watched as the Dunlending gathered supplies from the bodies of his fallen companions, his motions frantic as prepared to leave the camp behind with all haste. In her hand, she tightly clutched a necklace she had spotted amidst the blood and dirt, feeling the smooth edges of the bone imprint the tender flesh of her palm. It had been a simple thing, a crude design etched into bone and connected to threat, no doubt meant as a necklace for a child. As Ragni began to flee across the dark plains towards Orthanc, Amera silently and carefully slipped the necklace over her necklace, feeling the unfamiliar chill of bone against her breastbone as she turned and began to gallop once more towards Fangorn.

As she grew ever closer to the swaying forms of great trees in the distance, Amera blankly realized that she should feel some sort of remorse, some pity for the men she had struck down with such utter pitilessness. Once she would have wept for the spilled blood and agonized cries that had torn through the night air, unable to erase the great fear in their eyes as her blade had flashed towards them. She would had pitied them, even in their crimes, for none desired to die before their time.

Instead, she realized as the necklace bounced against her slender chest, she felt nothing at all.