I didn't think I would be updating so soon, but I wrote most of this chapter a long time ago. It was practically finished. So here it is.

As always, I want to thank everyone who commented on the last part. leeward1992, Cricklewood16, leelee202, durinsdaughter2469btw, Blue1258, SmallLittleCagedBird, and FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff. You guys are the best.

This one's for you.


CHAPTER XVI

HUNTER IN THE SHADOWS

The camp was heavily guarded, with foot patrols and Warg-riders circling at regular intervals. Most carried scimitars, Haldir noted. But some also bore crude bows, with bundles of vile arrows in their quivers.

Those closest to camp looked like prowling shadows, their outlines black and distinct against a backdrop of guttering torches. Though he could not quite see their eyes, Haldir knew they were watching, scanning the area for anything or anyone that might intrude or seek to spy on them.

Ah, but you do not see me, he thought with grim satisfaction, his fingers splayed on the ground as he hid in the dark, behind a grouping of shrubs less than half a furlong from the first row of tents.

Haldir could see the camp clearly from here—a sizeable section of it anyway. And it was bustling.

Soldiers were still filing in, so was the supply train. Tents were being erected. Casks were being rolled and stacked. And then there were the weapons. Heaping piles of them. More scimitars. Shields and armour plates. Lances. Daggers. Bows and arrows. Rough and basic, but deadly nonetheless.

"Hey maggot! You there!" one of the Orcs shouted to another. Pointing, he indicated a rocky section atop the escarpment, one that overlooked the open land beyond the ridge. "Have a look up there!" Grabbing hold of a fellow patrol, he shoved the creature forward, barked, "And take this slug with you!"

Haldir stiffened at once. Annalyn was up there, concealed in the forest, not far from where the Orcs had been ordered to go. As the patrols made their way up, growling and cursing as they went, he followed them with his eyes, and heaved a sigh of relief when they headed north and west, away from the woods, away from Annalyn. They will not see her, he told himself and felt his posture relax by a fraction.

His attention back on the encampment, Haldir listened to the cacophony of harsh voices, hoping to hear anything that might shed light on their plans. He also looked for Aldin.

Earlier, when Haldir had first crested over the hill, he had seen no sign of him. Now was no different. Row upon row, section by section, he looked and looked but saw neither Men nor cages, nothing to indicate that there were captives here.

Loathe as he was to admit it, it could be as he had feared.

A feeling of defeat came over him just then, along with the bitter taste of disappointment. Annalyn had come all this way, had hung on to hope all of this time… For naught, it seemed. I will have to tell her, he thought, and in so doing would further break the pieces of her crumbling heart.

Haldir was angry. Angry for her. Angry at the Orcs. He was even angry at himself. If only he had reached them sooner that night. Feran might have lived. Aldin wouldn't have vanished. He is most likely lost.

A growl suddenly drew his attention, forcing his miserable musings to the side. Glancing to his right, Haldir saw a lone Warg-rider going up the escarpment. The patrol seemed oblivious to his presence. Even in the darkness, Haldir could make out the tribal piercings on the rim of its ear, the ring that went through its bat-like nose. The Orc also carried a sounding horn. Good to know.

His gaze sweeping downward, Haldir considered the Warg that bore him. It was a fearsome thing. Brownish red in colour, it was large, larger than most. Its breath came out in steaming puffs, its bristling fur specked with the first snowflakes of the season.

Haldir's gaze flickered from the lone patrol to the camp then back again. His plan hadn't been as fruitful as he had hoped, and a part of him feared that he had learned as much as he would from his current vantage point.

Drawing upon centuries of experience, Haldir weighed his options, chose the one that seemed most likely to succeed. And so, his mouth thinning with determination, he looked around him one last time, and stole away into the night.


"He is too close." The words were but a whisper, her heart pounding in her chest. He will be caught! The Orcs will see!

Crouched where Haldir had left her, Annalyn held her breath and watched, wide-eyed, as he slid past yet another patrol. "He did it," she breathed and briefly hung her head. That Orc did not see him. Scarce believing her eyes, Annalyn laughed nervously, then bit her lip to stifle the sound.

While it should come as no surprise, Haldir was highly skilled in the furtive art of evasion. He was quick, as silent as a shadow. His elven cloak was practically indiscernible as well, so much so that she had nearly lost sight of him a few times this night, and wouldn't have seen him at all if she hadn't known where to look.

Presently, he was skirting around a thicket of shrubs, keeping very low to the ground. What he meant to do, Annalyn did not know. But she had faith in his abilities, and in his judgement. If anyone could get past those patrols, it was him.

Still, Annalyn worried and feared for Haldir, for he had gotten awfully close to the Orcs' encampment—much closer than he had first indicated—risking his life to gather knowledge and, hopefully, find Aldin.

The latter had her stomach in knots, the words "Please be there. Please be well." reverberating over and over in her mind. Desperate as she was to find him, Annalyn was not so delusional as to think that it would be easy. If it was even possible.

Just seeing this camp, and the forces gathered within… Thousands of them!

Annalyn shuddered to think on it, so she stopped, looking instead to the patrols, counting them and gauging their paths until they were etched in her memory. In truth, she and Haldir had been quite fortunate thus far. The Orcs seemed wholly oblivious to their presence. And though four patrols had passed directly in front of these woods, none had ventured close enough to actually see her.

Though very different in certain ways, her present situation reminded her of those nights she and her kin had spent hiding in the woods, watching with bated breath as Orcs and Wargs passed them by. Those very same creatures were undoubtedly down there, in that dreadful camp, including those who had killed her uncle.

Anger surged at the thought of them, a hatred so strong she could almost taste it.

Out of a need to rein in those emotions, Annalyn swallowed thickly, and closed her eyes for a fleeting moment. Centering herself, she tried to empty her thoughts. She listened.

In contrast to the awful racket of camp, the forest behind her was deathly quiet. A soft glacial wind danced between the trees, lightly stirring the snow as it fell to the ground. Hopefully, it would stop snowing soon, for it wouldn't do to leave visible tracks out here.

Her thoughts returning to her companion, Annalyn swept a gaze over the landscape, but could not see him. Where has he gone? Frowning in concern, she scrutinized the area to no avail.

He knows what he is doing, Annalyn reminded herself. He will turn up. But as night deepened even more, her disquiet turned to genuine worry.

Snow was now gathering on the ground, and still there was no sign of Haldir. A gust of cold air arose, stirring her hair and chilling her face. The wind was picking up, it seemed.

Wait…

Another gust swept by, from the west this time. When did the wind turn?

Before she had a change to think, let alone move, a hair-raising voice echoed from somewhere nearby, sparking off a deep sense of alarm.

"What's that smell?" it said.

Curses! With her attention centered on finding Haldir, Annalyn had failed to notice the foot patrols who had wandered awfully close to her present location. Two of them. Annalyn, you fool! You should have paid heed to the wind. You should have moved.

The Orcs sniffed the air, their narrowed eyes scanning the length of the woods. "We have company," one said, while the other grinned in murderous delight.

Curses, curses, curses!

Her blood rushing in her veins, Annalyn frantically glanced left then right. What should I do?

She couldn't stay here, obviously. Careful not to make a sound, Annalyn backed away from the tree. But the Orcs were still sniffing the air. If she tried to creep away, they would surely follow her scent—not to mention her tracks—and catch up. If they sounded the alarm…

Annalyn closed her eyes for an instant, tried not to panic. She held her breath. Oh please do not be wrong in this

Run!

She ran.


The lone Warg-rider had gone up the hill—a furlong south of Annalyn—and was now prowling the upper-most edge of the escarpment, climbing over rocks and winding amongst trees, its searching eyes skimming the area.

But the Orc wasn't alone.

Little did it know, Haldir had been trailing in its wake for a little while now, sneaking in silence with a singular purpose in mind. He was taking a risk, he knew, but saw no alternative. He had gotten as close as possible to that vile encampment, had lingered, and watched, and listened, but had yet to discover their plans.

The Lord and the Lady of the Wood had placed great trust in him. He would not fail them. He would not fail his people, his beloved Lothlórien.

Still, even as he stalked the rider, following it westward over the crest, then down into darker and denser woods, doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. While he was still within reasonable distance of Annalyn, Haldir could no longer see her hiding spot.

Conflict churned in his being.

While the soldier in him felt compelled to accomplish his appointed task, Haldir was not wholly comfortable with leaving Annalyn alone, beyond his line of sight. She is clever and capable, and she is well concealed, he thought but failed to completely reassure himself.

See it done, then get back to her.

Intent on doing just that, Haldir reached for a stone, picked it up, and threw it, a triumphant smirk curving his mouth when it landed just beyond the Warg-rider, immediately netting its attention.

As the Warg took one step then another, a low growl escaping its jaw, the Orc on its back tilted its hideous head in a way that said, "What do we have here?"

Mindful to keep downwind of them, Haldir used the distraction to cut a swift line through the shadows.

I have you now, he mused. And the wretched thing didn't even know it.

With his target in sight, Haldir bent his bow—the string creaking in the relative stillness, louder than he liked—and watched the Warg and rider slow then turn around. The Orc looked genuinely perplexed, still not clued in to the fact that it had been duped.

A breath, a blink, and Haldir cocked his head.

He loosed his arrow.


Annalyn was running, scrambling and stumbling as she fled across the darkened forest.

The Orcs had seen her. They were in full pursuit, the clang of their boots getting closer and closer despite her efforts to evade them.

She was out of breath, her sides hurting with exertion. Her endurance was flagging. It would buckle soon. Her luck had run out, it seemed. Even the forest appeared to mock her, the ground a treacherous betrayer that rose and fell, almost tripping her with its carpet of exposed roots.

Regaining her footing, Annalyn grimaced, ran and ran. No direction. No plan. Fool!, she thought, but wanted to yell instead. Haldir had given her one task. One! But she had fumbled, had let her guard down.

As the creatures continued to gain on her, Annalyn cursed herself yet again, then braved a glance over her shoulder. They were frightfully close, with vicious grins splitting their faces. One of them called out to her. Foul, taunting words. And then it growled, a guttural and disgusting sound. She recoiled even as she ran for her life.

In many ways, it was like that dreadful night all over again, a horrible echo of the chase that had almost claimed her life—the same chase that had sundered her from her kin. The memory forever carved in her mind, she remembered the overwhelming sense of defeat when her horse had fled, leaving her alone and swordless.

Such was not the case now, however. Her blade was at her hip, her hand wrapped about the hilt, ready to pull it free. Why she had waited, Annalyn had no idea. Mayhap she had hoped to widen the gap and face them when she felt ready. But her time was running out. Fight now or be slain, she thought as terror coiled in her gut.

Her nostrils flared. She chose.

Her sword rang free.


The Warg had fallen with a yelp, throwing its rider forward.

Caught in its death-throes, an arrow lodged in its side, the beast quaked and seized, while the Orc rolled and regained its feet. Startled and furious, the creature gripped its scimitar with one hand, the other reaching for the horn which hung about its neck.

But it was already too late.

"Do not think to sound that horn," Haldir warned in a low but lethal tone. He had already closed the distance. His blade had replaced his bow, the elegant steel hovering dangerously close to the creature's jugular. "If you so much as move, I will sever your head. Gladly. Now drop your weapon."

The Orc snarled, but ultimately did as it was told. The scimitar clattered to the ground. Haldir kicked it away.

"Tell me," he demanded sternly, eyes narrowing. "What goes here?"

The Orc laughed at that, its shoulders bobbing up and down. When Haldir increased the pressure on his blade, his nostrils flaring with impatience and loathing, the creature's mocking subsided. But defiance remained.

"And why should I tell you?" The Orc spat. "Elf."

His patience nearing its limit, Haldir clenched his jaw, countered, "You will tell me, if you value your wretched life."

Again, that laugh. Orcs. How he despised them.

"You cannot stop it," the creature spoke at length. "No one can."

"Stop what?" Haldir took a step, and then another, rounding the Orc while his blade ghosted along its miserable neck. "An attack," he stated, guessing as much. "Where? Speak!"

But the Orc did not answer, and was not going to. Haldir could see it in its cruel and derisive gaze, in the slight curl of its mouth.

Before he could do aught else, however, a sound reached his ears from a distance, faint but unmistakable, making his heart drop in his chest.

The clattering of swords.

Annalyn