Hi, I really really hope you're all still enjoying the story! I gave this chapter some serious though but it's been slightly difficult because I've misplaced my copy of The Two Towers. As always feel free to let me know what you think! Thanks so much for reading!

Eredhel awoke with a bitter taste on her tongue. At first she did not open her eyes, praying that everything would fade away, that there would be no more darkness or pain. What a relief it would be to simply die. When the visions returned she was forced to look around, blinking in the darkness. Exhaustion held her body to the floor and fire erupted in her limbs. The Free World would fall, breaking under the army of Sauron. The beautiful forest of Lórien would fade, Mirkwood would burn. Aragorn would never sit upon the throne of Gondor and Arwen would pass to grief. Hot tears began to spill down her cheeks, her last strength seeping from her limbs. Suddenly, a ray of light caught her eye. Looking down Eredhel found the leaf necklace shining dimly. Her fingers curled around the cool metal as she thought back to Lórien, when the Fellowship was whole. What had happened after she had been taken? Were more of her friends now dead or wounded? If Aragorn was still alive he would come after her. Brave and valiantly selfless. With him would go the others, including Legolas. Legolas. She choked back a sob as she remembered the vision of his death. No, they could not come here. They would be slaughtered or taken as prisoners. Her grip on the leaf tightened, that meant she had to escape.

Looking around, her eyes found the Urukai by the door. The beast had its eyes fixed on her intently, his weapon raised. Eredhel lay still, and looked at him through half closed lids, waiting him out. He soon relaxed and lowered his long axe. After another hour he became so bored that he went to look out one of the long windows to the ground below. Once his back was turned she seized her chance. She pushed her exhaustion aside and within seconds was behind him, snapping his thick neck to the side. It was a crude method but served its purpose as he dropped dead at her feet. Eredhel ran over to the unlocked door and smirked. Saruman's over confidence was working to her advantage. He had kept her weapons as proof of her capture and planned to use them as bait to get the others to enter Isengard. She quickly strapped her beloved bow and quiver to her back but kept her blade in her hand. She was about to run across the room when she remembered the Palentir mounted in the attached room to her left. Eredhel dropped to the floor, hoping the eye of Sauron had not seen her. She crawled across the granite floor, keeping her eyes trained on the swirling orb. When she was out of its view she rose and sprinted to the stairs.

Silently running down the spiralling steps she stopped as she heard grunts below her. A few minutes later they died away and she continued into the long corridor. The torchlight cast long shadows over the black walls. The air was cold and damp. She met no one as she crept from each floor to the next. Upon reaching the lower levels she found a large black cloak in a supply room and threw it over herself to hide her Lothlórien garb. She had just pulled the hood up when a heavy wooden door burst open and three Urukai entered. Eredhel jumped behind several crates and held her breath. They seemed to be arguing and stopped just in front of where she was hiding. One of them sniffed the air and hesitated but his companion smacked him over the head, telling him to hurry it up. They each grabbed a long spear from the rack to her left then headed up the stairs. From there she made it out of the tower without incident. It was almost dark and the moon was casting an eerie glow over the grounds.

Only months ago the tower had been surrounded by trees, and flowers had grown along the cobbled pathway. Now the barren earth was dry and cracked from the fire of the forges below. She let out a small cry when she saw the trees of the surrounding hills engulfed in flame. The hot, smoke filled air made her feel sick and lightheaded. All around the Urukai went back and forth, carrying supplies. The white hand of Saruman was painted on all their faces. They shouted to each other in their harsh language as they hammered on hot iron and sharpened swords. Eredhel knew she did not have much time. By now Saruman would be on his way back and would soon find his dead servant in his chamber. Slipping into the shadows she raced to the outer wall and quickly scaled it. A guard spotted her dark form and gave a yell but she dropped to the other side. Without as much as a glance behind her she ran for the hills.

For a while it seemed like she had escaped without pursuit but before daylight dawned it was clear she was being followed. Scouts had caught up with her, four of them. They had fallen to her bow and knife and she had suffered no injuries in return. Now she could hear the stamp of orc feet, about thirty of them from what she could guess. In her tired state it would be impossible to fight all of them at once, perhaps if she reached Fangorn she could pick them off one by one from the trees. Even then she did not know how long she would last, her muscles ached and her wrapped wrist still stung from Saruman's burn.

Eredhel leaped over a boulder and continued running, her eyes scanning the horizon behind her. Already she could see the outline of her enemies. Her usual tirelessness had been erased by her torment and injuries. Within a few hours they would overtake her. But there was something else, another tremor in the ground. Hoof beats. In the land of Rohan this was not uncommon but herds of wild horses were rarely this large. Eredhel pushed her legs harder as she looked to the sky. Three hours later they were almost upon here and her energy was spent. Stopping at a rough outcropping she hid behind a jagged rock, hoping to at least gain the advantage of surprise. Moments later she could hear their battle cries and the whoosh of swords and arrows fell around her.

It was the third day of the hunt and Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas were running side by side. Today they hoped to come within eyesight of their companions and last night they had only halted for half an hour. Now they sprinted onwards, stopping occasionally so Aragorn could press a well adapted ear to the ground. It was his third time doing his when a frown deepened his face, and he rose to look across the landscape. "What is it?" asked Legolas.

"The sound of horses, somewhere on the plains there are Riders of the Mark. What cause they have for riding I do not know but I predict we shall come across them in our venturing over the land. There are a proud and true hearted people. Perhaps they will have word of the work at Isengard."

"Then let us move onward, I am awaiting the chance to make orc flesh meet metal," said Gimli, rising to his feet from where he had been sitting. They continued on, until it was midday and the sun was high in the sky. This time Aragorn did not need to listen to the earth, across the flat land they could see a large group of mounted men, riding in a rough formation. Aragorn indicated for the others to hide behind an outcropping of rocks, waiting for the men to reach them. A stampede of hooves and armor was soon flying past them, the men were dressed for battle. After they had rode past their hiding place, Aragorn stepped into view and called to them.

"Riders of Rohan, what news comes from Meduseld and Théoden King?" At his words, the riders turned and galloped towards the three companions. At their front was a proud warrior, an adorned helmet sitting atop his head. To Aragorn's surprise, they encircled the Hunters and in seconds spears were surrounding them. The horses were high and proud, their tack made of fine leather and painted gold. When he looked to the men's eyes, he found little warmth, they were made of steel and plagued with wariness. He wondered what misfortune had befallen this great people to lead them to roam their own lands in fear.

"What business do a man, a dwarf and an elf have in these lands?" demanded the leader sharply as he brought stallion to a stop before them. Aragorn put up his hands in peace but Gimli spoke first.

"If you were to tell me your name, O' Horse Master then I would be willing to tell you mine." The man dismounted, handing his proud helmet to one of his men. Long blond hair flowed past a handsome, rugged, face and blue eyes shone from beneath his brow. He was relatively young, no more than thirty. His chest and shoulders were powerful and there was a noble air to his stance. He looked down at Gimli, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I am tempted to cut off your head dwarf, unfortunately it does not stand high enough off the ground." The words had barely left his mouth when Legolas had an arrow nocked at his throat.

"You would die before your stroke fell," he growled. Immediately many of the spears were swung towards him but the elf held his ground.

"I would not threaten the dwarf again Éomer, the Prince is rather fond of him and I have yet to see him miss his target," said a silvery voice. Legolas' heart skipped at the sound, fearing he was imagining things. He shook himself mentally and turned his gaze towards the warrior mounted to Éomer's right. But it wasn't one of his men at all, Legolas eyes widened as he saw the elven cloak and wavy brown hair that contrasted the straw blond of the Rohirrim. Warmth blossomed in his chest, and he released the tension that had plagued him since Amon Hen. She was alive, and she was safe.

"I take it you know these men?" asked Éomer, drawing Legolas from his thoughts as he turned towards the elleth.

"Indeed, these are the companions that I told you of, though they seem to have shrunk in number." Her eyes darkened and she looked to Aragorn for an explanation.

"Eredhel!" gasped the Ranger, surprised that he had not noticed her among the armor clad men. "What are you doing here?"

"We saw a troop of orcs and found her in the middle of it," explained Éomer.

"I managed to escape from Orthanc but my absence did not go unnoticed for long. Almost immediately Saruman sent his rats after me. If not for the Rohirrim I doubt I would be alive right now."

"Yes, I was quite surprised to see the Varyor in our kingdom, even more so when she knew more about our troubles than we did. You are her friends then?"

"Yes, we are. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood." The ellon was still regarding Eomer coldly. Eredhel dismounted and stood next to Aragorn, stroking her horse's nose thoughtfully.

"But where are the others?" she asked, her stomach beginning to churn.

"Yes did you not mention a greater number?" Éomer raised his dark eyebrows.

"Originally nine, ten if you count Eredhel. Two men and two elves, a dwarf, the Grey Pilgrim and four halfings or Shirefolk. In the dark mines of Moria Gandalf fell. We then reached the Golden Wood and stayed in the forest while our grief passed. From there we traveled by the river until a few days ago we were attacked by Orcs. Two of the halflings escaped, taking a different road south while the others were captured by our enemies. Our final member, Boromir of Gondor, was slain," explained Aragorn sadly. He saw Eredhel look to Legolas for confirmation and the blond elf nodded. Eredhel swallowed as she pushed the grief of Boromir's death away to focus on the task at hand.

"Ah! The loss of Boromir is a great one indeed for he was both strong and just. He passed through our lands about a year ago, intending to go on a long journey. You have my condolences for your lost friends. I am greatly saddened to hear that Gandalf the Grey has passed, the wizard was wise and always offered counsel to my uncle. Alas that he cannot help us when we have the greatest need him."

"What misfortune has befallen your kingdom?"

"A great sickness has consumed the King. He has aged more in the past month than he has in ten years. Théoden can no longer recognize friends from foes, he sits on his throne listening only to the council of his adviser Gríma. Under that worm's command my men and I were exiled for our loyalty to Rohan."

"Dark indeed are your days. Something tells me our path will lead to Meduseld but first we must find our friends. The two halfings taken captive by a band of orcs heading for Isengard," said Aragorn.

"The orcs? We slayed them in the early hours of the morning, shortly before we came across Eredhel."

"But did you see the two hobbits? Wee little folk, the size of children!" exclaimed Gimli anxiously.

"None were left alive, we feared Saruman's retribution," answered Éomer. He saw grief fill their faces and whistled, calling to two horses. "Hasufel, Arod!" The mounts came through the soldiers and he grasped their reins tightly. "The masters of these horses as well as Eredhel's fell in battle. May they bear you to better fortune in these foul times. We burned the bodies of the orcs near the border of Fangorn Forest. Look for your friends but I would not advise you to hope, it does little in our lands." He passed the reins to Aragorn and then signaled to his men as he remounted his horse. Minutes later they were gone, the sound of stampeding hooves fading across the plain. Finally Eredhel could not hold her silence any longer.

"Boromir, is dead?" Her tone was even, portraying none of the grief that was still plaguing the Three Hunters. Aragorn started, having momentarily forgotten that she was there.

"Yes, he fell trying to save Merry and Pippin. It took three arrows to bring him down."

"I see." Her voice was flat and she stared at the ground, Legolas went to give her shoulder a squeeze but Eredhel had turned her back on him, jumping into her saddle. Elves habitually rode horses bareback but it would not do to leave the fine tack of the Rohirrim lying in the grass.

"You must have been injured by that monster. Aren't you going to tell us what happened at Isengard?" Legolas asked. He noticed there was a stiffness to her movements and her hand was heavily bandaged. He could only imagine whst happened to her in the dark tower.

"No, not now. We must find the hobbits," she answered. The others shared an uneasy look but climbed up onto their horses. Aragorn mounted the chestnut, Hasufel while Gimli and Legolas shared Arod, the dappled grey. Bumping their heels against the animals' flanks they eased into a canter, riding for half an hour until they reached the burning mound of bodies. Immediately they dismounted and began searching through the piled carcasses. Gimli pulled a small elvish belt from the black soot and shook his head mournfully.

"It's one of their wee little belts."

"No, we failed them. Argh!" Aragorn kicked a helmet in anger and dropped to his knees. Eredhel laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, hesitant to process the fact that the innocent halflings could be gone. Aragorn's fingers brushed the dry dirt and he straightened, his hands swaying over the ground. "Merry and Pippin lay here, they seemed to be trying to get away. They cut their bonds." Aragorn pulled a thick rope from the soil.

"Perhaps they escaped," suggested Eredhel, drawing the attention of the others. Aragorn continued to study the earth and his friends followed him as he rose and followed the near invisible trail, like a hound on the hunt. He wove his way around the charred grass, describing the movements of the hobbits. He stopped short when he reached the edge of a dark wood.

"Yes, they did. Straight into Fangorn Forest," Aragorn breathed.

"That forest is dark, they must have been in desperate need to flee in there," said Gimli.

"Indeed, and yet they are far better in there than out here among the dead," acknowledged Eredhel. They remounted their horses and followed Aragorn as he led the way into the forest, avoiding the thick roots curling up from the ground. Leaves and pine needles littered the forest floor. Legolas breathed in deeply, unlike his home this forest was healthy, the air rich with the smell of leaves and fresh earth. Beside him Eredhel was looking around interestedly. She had visited the forest before and was familiar with the ancient trees.

All day they searched but there were few signs of the halflings. Eredhel went last, holding her horse at a much slower pace. Legolas would occasionally throw a worried glance back at her but she would never meet his eyes. At nightfall they stopped in a clearing surrounded by oak trees and made a small camp to rest. Gimli was put on the watch as the others slept. Eredhel closed her eyes but remained alert, terrified of what nightmares she may have. She realized that her hands were shaking and curled them into fists in annoyance. About an hour before the break of dawn Gimli gave a sharp cry, causing Legolas and Aragorn to jump to their feet.

"What is it?" demanded the blond elf.

"I saw someone!" the dwarf replied. "Cloaked in grey, a bent old man walking among the trees!" The others searched among the trunks but could not see the mysterious intruder.

"Are you certain?" asked Aragorn.

"Yes, yes of course!" insisted Gimli.

"The horses are gone," said Eredhel suddenly from behind them. "They must have been scared off."

"If Saruman is here we must be careful, especially you," urged Aragorn. Legolas instinctively shifted closer to Eredhel at his words, more than eager to make Saruman pay for what he had done. "Our progress will be slow without horses, I fear we may not reach the hobbits." In minutes they were moving again, deciding they would use the hour before daybreak to make up for the loss of their mounts. As the day passed the trees grew thicker around them and the walking more laborious. The trees creaked and groaned and the air pressed in around them. In the early afternoon Legolas fell into step alongside Eredhel, looking over at her in concern.

"You have barely spoken since we met the Riders of Rohan."

"There has been little need to."

"Eredhel, something is wrong. I feared we would lose you when you were taken to Isengard, I-," he hesitated but did not get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Wait, did you hear that?" She looked up suddenly, her dark eyes searching around her. He fell silent and heard a soft whispering among the trees. Eredhel reached out a hand and ran her fingers along a spruce's rough bark. "It has been long since the elves woke them."

"Yes, there is deep magic here. Many songs say that Ents walk along the roots of the mountains. Aragorn, nad no ennas, (something is out there,)" said Legolas.

"Man cenich? (What do you see?)" asked the man.

"The trees whisper of a wanderer, cloaked and bent who has recently been walking among them. I believe our friend from last night has returned," answered Eredhel.

"The White Wizard. Do not let him speak for he will put a spell on us." Aragorn grasped the hilt of his sword and Gimli tightened his hold on his axe. The two elves nocked an arrow but Eredhel hesitated, loosening the tension of her string. She could feel a presence nearby, but one that she knew to be impossible. Her mind had to be deceiving her. Before she could make sense of it the others had spun towards a bright light and Legolas had loosed his arrow. It was deflected and Gimli shouted and then charged. But both his and Aragorn's weapons grew hot and they dropped them to the ground. Aragorn saw that Eredhel was still armed and yelled to her over the sound of hissing metal.

"Eredhel, shoot him!"

"No, Aragorn it's-" she answered but before she could explain a deep voice came from the light.

"Your friend is wise. You are searching for two hobbits from the Shire."

"Where are they?" demanded Aragorn.

"They passed this way and met someone they did not expect. Does that ease your heart?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked, taking a few steps towards the voice. The light faded and before them stood Gandalf, his robes and staff a pearly white. A smile graced the wizard's face as he regarded them kindly.

"You fell," breathed Aragorn in disbelief.

"Yes, through fire and water. I fought my enemy for days before I smote him down with my last ounce of strength. From there I faded, consumed by a silent darkness. Time melded together and I felt at peace. But it was not the end, I awoke on the mountainside and was brought to Lórien on the back of the Lord of the Eagles."

"Gandalf," said Legolas, pressing a hand to his heart. The wizard looked at him half in confusion.

"Yes that is what they used to call me, Gandalf the Grey. I am Gandalf the White now, a representation of what Saruman should have been. One of you has experienced his madness since I left you." They all turned towards Eredhel who was looking at Gandalf with fire in her eyes.

"That does not matter now, you have come back." She forced a smile.

"Yes, I have returned at the changing of the tides, for I have not yet fulfilled my purpose. There is work to be done, we must make for the plains." He pulled a grey cloak from beneath his robes and led them through the trees. "We head for Edoras."

"Was it you who we saw last night?" asked Aragorn.

"No, for a few days now I have been wandering deep in thought. The man you saw must have been Saruman for even now his influence lingers in the forest," explained Gandalf.

"But if the dark sorcerer walks here then we cannot leave the hobbits!" said Gimli.

"They are in the company of the Ents. They go to wage war on Isengard, if they succeed our paths may yet meet again," answered Gandalf. With the wizard leading them through the forest, they found their way out within a few hours. As they stood atop a grassy hill Gandalf whistled, his tune carrying across the plains. A moment later four horses were galloping towards them, their leader's white coat gleaming brilliantly in the sun.

"That is one of the Mearas," said Legolas.

"Yes, Shadowfax, the lord of all horses," answered Gandalf as the horse reached him. It was proud, with a silky mane and tail. The others were the steeds of Rohan. Gandalf mounted Shadowfax while the others each took a horse. Gimli climbed up behind Legolas and soon they were riding for Meduseld. They only got in a few hours riding before darkness fell around them. At this point they stopped in the shelter of a small hill and Gimli chopped up some branches while Aragorn prepared for a fire. Off to the side Eredhel was pacing. Gandalf looked over at her, he could see there was something amiss and could only imagine what Saruman had done to her. He put a hand on her arm and she jumped, giving him a weak smile as she faced him. "My friend, you are anxious and something is quite wrong."

"Don't deny it, just speak the truth," interjected Aragorn before she could answer. "You have not told us what happened at Isengard." Eredhel sighed and turned away, heading for the fire. She went to throw a stick into the flames but her sleeve caught and exposed several inches of her arm. Legolas saw that the bandages he had seen earlier continued up her forearm and there was a spot of blood on the grey cloth. He frowned, "What happened to your wrist?"

"Nothing, it is a mere scrape," she answered and hastily pulled down her sleeve. Eredhel then bent to sit next to him and Legolas saw her face briefly contort in pain. Her struggle was also noticed by Aragorn. He went to support her but she flinched away when he touched her back.

"I thought you said you weren't injured?" he asked.

"I'm not, just sore from the riding is all," reasoned Eredhel lamely. Normally she could come up with an excuse in seconds but the fatigue and pain were slowing her mind. She backed away from them like a cornered animal, with fear in her eyes. A warm hand found its way onto her shoulder and she looked up at Gandalf. He was her oldest friend and there was sadness in his eyes. He would know what happened to her at Isengard, the torture Saruman would have resorted to. She hated for him to see her weakened.

"You've ridden for days on end with no problem. Stop lying and let me help you," insisted Aragorn, pulling her from her thoughts. She rolled her eyes and tried to side step him but Legolas blocked her way. Eredhel growled but he simply crossed his arms over his chest determinedly.

"And your arm is bleeding. You're not moving until you tell us what's wrong." They glared at each other until Eredhel sighed.

"He wanted to know where the Ring was. At first he told me he wished to use it against Sauron but when I saw through his lies he became angry. I refused to tell him the whereabouts of the Ring or any of my companions so he," she halted, not wanting to go on. Instead she pulled up the hem of her tunic, exposing her back. Legolas heard a sharp intake of breath from the man beside him and anger flared in his chest. Her normally light skin was covered by vibrant, purple bruises. They started in the small of her back and continued up between her shoulder blades. Pity welled up inside Legolas as he realized the pain it must have caused her to ride all day.

"Eredhel," breathed Aragorn, his eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell us? I could have tried to heal you."

"We were pressed for time," she replied. "I did not deem it necessary to trouble you with so small a matter."

"That is no small matter," said Legolas. "You're going to let him heal you but first unwrap your arm." He still had not moved from in front of her. Eredhel suddenly took a step back from him, nervously flexing her fingers.

"No Legolas, really it's fine." Her voice was strained now and before she could move he had grabbed her upper arm. Eredhel looked away as he gently unwound the cloth. It was all he could not to curl his hands into fists when he saw the source of her unease. An elven rune was burned into her flesh and the surrounding skin was raw and blistered.

"I already know there will be a scar, even for an elf's skin it's far too deep and damaged to completely heal," she said flatly.

"Saruman did this to you?" demanded Legolas forcefully.

"Yes, after..." her voice trailed off as darkness crept into her eyes.

"After what? questioned Aragorn. Beside him Gandalf's eyes suddenly widened, having spoken with the the elleth inside her head.

"She saw Him," he said hoarsely. The others' heads snapped towards Eredhel as she sank into a crouch and put her head in her hands. "Saruman used a palentir when he was interrogating her. It allowed Sauron to see into Orthanc and even," he paused and looked towards the elleth, "to make her see into his mind."

Legolas' earlier anger towards the wizard was now nothing but a spark to the inferno raging inside him. The miserable wretch had beaten, burned and broken her. She was not the same, there was a constant wariness to her eyes. Legolas wished nothing more than to run to Isengard and inflict the same pain on Saruman as he had inflicted on her, to make him die with an arrow through his black heart.

"None of it matters, I'm alive and Saruman doesn't know that we plan on destroying the Ring, that's what is important. We need to focus on reaching Meduseld."

"We can worry about reaching the King's Hall in the morning. Right now you need help, don't be a fool," snapped Gandalf. Eredhel smiled, the wizard was still as grumpy as he was before.

"Yes," agreed Aragorn. "Hold still." He grabbed a scrap of cloth then poured water from his wineskin over it. Then he found some herbs in a pouch at his belt and rubbed them into the fabric. When he went to sit beside her she finally looked at him and he could see sadness in her eyes. He laid a warm and on her shoulder and bound her wrist with the cloth. The remedy felt cool and was soothing to her burned skin. There was little that could be done for her back, it was likely her ribs were bruised if not broken. Gandalf passed a hand over it and she felt the pain lessen. Eredhel nodded in thanks but then muttered something about taking some rest and went to sit on the side of the hill. As she was passing the fire Gimli looked up at her, his face hardening.

"I'll have that sorcerer's head lassie, he will taste dwarvish iron," he said gruffly. His comment caught her off guard and she stopped mid-step.

"I do not envy the one who incurs your wrath master dwarf." She smiled and he chuckled. Once she had settled on the grass she leaned against a rock and stared up at the pale moon. Her limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds and her eyes were heavy. She fought it for as long as she could, watching the others drop off one by one. Finally she could resist no longer, succumbing to the oblivion of sleep.

Eredhel did not know how long she had been slumbering when she became aware of others around her. At first she could see only blackness but then a scene formed. Several orcs were grouped to her left yet she did not feel as if she was in danger of them. Looking around she saw Legolas, Aragorn and her brothers. Grief was on their faces but she did not know the cause, they seemed to be in a disagreement. As she watched Eredhel saw that the orcs were slowly creeping towards them, silently drawing their swords. Fear crawled into her heart, like a spider returning to its web. She cried out to them but no sound came, only silence. "Aragorn! Legolas! Look!" she screamed. Eredhel rose from the ground and ran towards them but found her hands were bound. The orcs were only feet away now, and their weapons fell. A screech tore from her lips as blood painted the weapons of her enemies. Legolas was stabbed in the stomach, falling to his knees. She did not want to watch them die but could not seem to tear her gaze from their empty eyes. Elladan and Elrohir fell on top of each other, life fading from them. Aragorn turned and saw her before an arrow found its way to his neck. Eredhel desperately writhed against the bonds that held her, her arms burning from the ropes. Finally she broke free but it was too late. She fell to the ground beside Legolas and he looked up at her, grimacing.

"Eredhel..."

"Legolas I'm sorry, I'm so sorry please, please." Tears streamed down her face as she shook with sobs. No, it was her life that should be ended, not his. As the elf's face grew pale Saruman's voice hissed in her mind.

"They will all die!"

"No, no!" Eredhel's chest contricted and she felt like she could not breathe. No, not Legolas. She could endure any kind of pain but not losing him. Eredhel screamed and someone grabbed her by the shoulder. She snarled and grabbed her knife, swinging around and slicing towards them.