"Unpleasant?" Pippin's voice was several octaves higher than his normal voice, which was more than could be said about the other three who were staring like fish out of the water. "You call that unpleasant?!"
Alex shrugged, because really, what was there to do? They just saw him literally gut himself, there wasn't anything to distract from that. He couldn't help but reply, "Not the worst that happened to me, and at least this time, the weapon they stuck in me only killed me and didn't eat me from the inside-out, so there's that."
The silence on the Weather Top is deafening. He expected screaming, yelling, Hobbits fleeing for their lives (Frodo certainly screamed enough when he grabbed him), but not this.
...Well, he figured, most likely it was the shock that they went unresponsive. Lord knew he'd seen enough guys- Marine Rookies mostly- who just full-body froze when he blew through.
And fuck, maybe he should really try and get some distance?
"This time?" Much to his surprise, it was Sam who asked first.
Alex inclined his head, frowning. "What do you mean?" Conversation, yeah, that was preferable to screaming and running. Because latter made him get fired up to hunt and kill.
"You said 'This time', and 'Not the worst that happened'", the Hobbit pointed out, and he saw the other's faces turn worried too.
Ah. That.
He waved him off. "Exactly what I said. It was far from the worst that happened." The nuclear warhead and the parasite took that spot for actually physically injuring him. The Leader Hunter had that spot for mentally hurting him. "I mean, yeah. Actual weapons doing that to me are rare and usually of the combustive kind, but hardly anything I haven't dealt with already."
The Hobbits paled. Strider's face made a complicated series of expressions. Opened his mouth to argue, or ask something, but Alex cut any of them off. "Look. I got hurt in a way that would have killed any other man, and now I am not anymore. Because I'm not human, and wounds like that only inconvenience me at most. It's simple as that." He glanced at Strider briefly. "You have already seen me reconstruct myself from a literal puddle on the floor. You've seen me take Orc arrows-" He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as he slowly turned his attention to the mess on the floor.
The knife- it had hurt him. Hurt him way more than any sort of metal weapon had any right to. Hurt him in a way that made his entire Biomass more or less unresponsive, so he had to physically cut out the affected areas instead of just shifting around it. "It hurt me", he muttered, completely ignoring the presence of the Hobbits or Strider. "The Orc weapons did not. So why? What the Fuck is up with this thing?"
Strider cleared his throat to draw attention and carefully approached the black sludge, kneeling down to gingerly pick the knife up. He flinched back when the blade suddenly crumpled away to dust and he dropped the handle. "A Morgul Blade", he declared with clear disgust in his tone.
Alex cocked his head. He knew those words. "Morgul- the Dark Lands?"
Strider nodded and got up. "It's a rare and very dangerous weapon that Sauron only gives to his most trusted soldiers."
Like the Nazgûl, huh? He glanced back towards the dead Blacklight Biomass on the floor. "Why did it hurt me like it did?"
The ranger grimaced a little. "
That wasn't what it was made to do- it should have killed you. Especially since you took it right to the heart." He gestured towards the heft. "The Morgul Blades are poisoned- and they are designed to break to pieces inside its victim, so it can never be fully removed. Once the poison reaches the heart, however, it will kill its victim and turn them into a Wraith themselves." No wonder it didn't affect you, he didn't say, but Alex could read it plainly on his face.
Even when Alex wasn't actually trying to be poisoned, it was interesting to see how his system reacted towards toxins- the only he came into contact with was Bloodtox, specially designed to cause necrosis in infected tissues. The Morgul Blade worked similarly: It had killed off his tissues fast, though unlike the Bloodtox it was localized, and unlike the Parasite it was clearly distinguishable from the rest of him, so getting it out was just a matter of a strong stomach and some quick swipes with the Claws.
He didn't like how it drained his Biomass reserves, and watching the mess on the floor slowly wither- watching parts of himself die in front of him- was hard.
But even dead it was a threat, so Alex turned and swiped the torch Strider just freshly lit and dropped it into the puddle on the floor. The heat was going to cauterize the Infection, and kill off any viable cells.
Without much fanfare, he turned his back on the blaze. "It is not safe here", he said. "Too exposed."
"Is it safe with you?" Merry questioned, eyes boring into Alex's.
"It's not", the Runner replied truthfully. "I am not safe." His eyes hardened. "But I already told you if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered dragging you all over here. I wouldn't have bothered playing nice with the town of Bree, if I really was planning on destroying you. Trust that." He turned away and headed over to the edge of the cliff, glancing at Strider when he stopped just in front of the drop. "I'll go check whether these things are really gone for now. You make sure you are ready to leave."
Then he stepped into emptiness, seconds later hitting the ground with a resounding crack and splintering rocks.
The Hobbits didn't trust him. Hadn't done so before the Amon Sûl, and even less now. But that was okay (it really was), he didn't need them to trust him. He just had to get them to Rivendell to...
...Why was it his problem?
He didn't owe them anything. What have they ever done for him?
Strider for not stabbing a sword into his back the first chance he got?
Laughable, because then it would mean basically any Marine and Blackwatch Soldier Alex ever met who didn't put a bullet into him would deserve the same treatment. So no to owing him.
Did the Hobbits deserve anything?
All they did was annoy him, and not trust him, and treat him-
He should really leave. Leave them. Before he snapped and did something he would regret- he wasn't really good with people, preferred to keep on his own once everything was said and done.
But here, right now, he could not stay away.
Strider- and the Hobbits- was the only life line he had. The only thing that grounded him, gave him a sense of purpose. If he left them, what was he supposed to do instead? There were no soldiers to fight, no infection to stop, no conspiracy to be cracked. Just a lot of open country and barely any humans around.
Sure, he could explore it all, wander at his leisure. How long would it work? A few weeks? A few years? A few hundreds of years?
Greene had been un-aging for the fifty years she's been captured. His body was a lot more durable, so he figured if he had enough Biomass to consume he could go for centuries without any decay- at least physically. But mentally?
His consciousness was always hanging on by a fucking thin thread. He knew there had been moments in Manhattan when his mind was shutting down and Blacklight took control. If there wasn't anything to take his attention, to keep his mind grounded, then it would fade eventually. He would lose himself, like the Infected lost themselves.
The very thought scared him, more even than facing Greene had scared him, more than the Bloodtox, more than the parasite. More than Dana's abduction. (The latter was close second, however)
Maybe it was the moment of weakness when he thought about Dana (remembered the Leader breaking down the wall and grabbing her like she was a doll, remembered it roaring and leaping outside, and he chasing after it only to fail when Blackwatch's Aerial Strike destroyed the building site he chased through) that he spotted the Hunter lurking in the gloom.
His spine stiffened at the same moment he pivoted on his heel, shoes scraping the ground as his Claws rippled into existence. Claws weren't the most ideal weapons against Hunters, but the Hobbits had already seen them, so they shouldn't be too badly startled.
They still jumped however, scrambling to draw their swords- aiming at him for a short moment until they realized that he had his back to them and his attention somewhere else.
Strider suddenly was besides him, his own sword ready and his body ducked. "What is it that you see?" He questioned, "The Nazgûl?"
Alex scowled. "Not the robes", he replied with a tense voice. "Something...else?" His brows furrowed when he realized the Hunter wasn't moving. Which was strange.
Also. There were no Hunters in Middle-Earth. There should be no Hunters in Middle-Earth. He switched to Infected Vision more as an afterthought then- and the Hunter did not show up against the dark sky.
His shoulders loosened their tension, gave way to irritation and confusion.
There was no Hunter, and the longer he watched the more he realized that the shape- or shapes, there were several- was all wrong.
With a scoff, he snatched Strider's torch from his hand and marched towards the things, stopping just a few feet shy of them.
"Huh" It weren't Hunters, even if they were big and crooked, but the three of them looked more like overgrown overweight humans than the fanged monsters he faced. They were also made of stone. His brows furrowed. "Who the Hell would put statues out here?", he asked out loud.
"They're Trolls", Strider's amused voice pointed out. The ranger and the Hobbits approached them. The Hobbits, in particular, seemed almost excited to see the statues.
"Trolls?" Alex cocked his head in confusion.
"Some kinds of Trolls can't tolerate the light of the sun", Strider explained.
"It's a part of my uncle's story", Frodo piped up, seemingly surprised he'd spoken at all. "He wrote down the adventures he had when he was younger."
"Oh!" Merry and Pippin lit up simultaneously. "That one." They glanced at each other, and Pippin apparently won their silent decision-making. "Bilbo had been on a journey with Dwarves, and at one point, they got caught by three Trolls. The Trolls were about to eat them, but Bilbo managed to confuse them and they argued about how to prepare them when the sun came up and turned them to stone!"
Alex eyed the statues. They were already overgrown, and erosion had started gnawing at their edges. "Are...they still alive under there?"
Strider shook his head. "No. Once they were exposed to the sun, they turned to stone through and through." Then he hummed in thought, eying the Runner. "Why?"
He growled in answer. "Nobody deserves to be trapped like that. Not alive and aware, but unable to do a damn thing about it", There was a bitter tone in his voice and lifted one paw to claw at the solid stone, carving out a good portion of rock that was just that- rock. "It's Hell, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy", he added. He remembered the fifty years Greene had been locked away in both her mind and body- a nightmare that never seemed to end (but finally did when Blacklight woke), and felt somewhat relieved that this wasn't the case here.
He shook his head, muttering to himself "Getting worked up about a bunch of ugly lawn ornaments. Cross'll have a field day if he ever finds out." He picked up his voice a little as his claws melted away and he reassembled his more human appearance. "False alarm. Sorry for startling you."
He expected them to give a few remarks, then continue their trek, only that they didn't. Strider was leaning against one of the Trolls, while the Hobbits apparently decided this place was good enough to stay for the night. They were unpacking their bed rolls and their cold evening meal and got comfortable, quietly chattering to each other.
"You thought they were something else, didn't you?" The ranger questioned, and not for the first time Alex had the feeling those gray eyes knew exactly what was going on inside his head.
He shook his head with a huff after taking a brief moment to think about the best way to reply. "Hunters", he said simply. "Big, nasty things." He gestured towards the Trolls. "That size, but they are fast, strong, and agile, and do not fear the sun. Also really mean and hard to kill. Usually appear in packs of two to four, but more was possible." He paused, then grimaced."They could also grow up to be even bigger and a lot nastier. And I..." He sighed. "You don't know what it's like to suddenly find yourself cornered by three of these things, all roaring and trying to take a chunk out of you." He trailed off, remembering way too many times a Hunter latched on and didn't let go.
"You thought they were those creatures", Strider finished.
"Ridiculous, isn't it? I know they are not here, and still."
Strider inclined his head. "It's not. You've faced them in the past, and you know how dangerous they are even to the likes of yourself." He folded his arms, eying the Runner with this intense stare. "And you- your first instinct upon seeing what you thought were the same creatures that have hurt you in the past was to protect us. You even faced down the Nazgûl in order to defend the Hobbits. And we are strangers to you, strangers that you owe nothing to and who only show you distrust and fear, strangers from a land that isn't yours. And still you defend us, even if we are afraid of you. This is a feat not many men can claim to their names." He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You are a very good man, even if you believe otherwise."
The Nine were drawing closer, Strider knew. They had to hurry to reach the Halls of Lord Elrond before they were upon them. They managed to fight them off once, but those had only been five, and they took them by surprise. Now the field was different, they knew what was going to await them and ambushing them with fire wasn't going to work again.
All of them were aware of it, too.
The Hobbits had already stopped trying to weasel another breakfast or longer night's sleeps from him and were now even less inclined to do so. Even Pippin, who'd seen the entire journey as a big adventure until now, was more subdued.
Alex remained on the edge himself, though the tension in his body seemed to be almost natural for him and the ease he'd shown until now wasn't- which made the Ranger realize that being hunted was something familiar to him.
He wondered again what kind of being the other was- he'd assumed Wraith at first, but he was too substantial, and he could be hurt. Wraith weren't like this, so it meant whatever Alex was, it wasn't something he ever encountered before. (Maybe Elrond would know. Maybe Gandalf.)
What he did know however, was that neither of them were going to leave anyone behind and at the mercy of the Nazgûl, and that they needed to be prepared- the attack with the Morgul Blade had been a bad surprise, and if it had hit anybody else...
He didn't want to think of it, and knew that the closer the Wraith came, the more they would need a safeguard against the corruption they carried.
Out here, there wasn't much that would work, but there was one that would do its job good enough until they would get to safety. So when they stopped for the night in a small copse of trees, he took Sam to the side.
"Sam, I need your help", he whispered, too afraid the Nazgûl would hear them, for their shrieks were audible on the wind.
The Hobbit reluctantly turned his attention away from Frodo- Strider could sympathize that right now he didn't want to leave his friend alone. Frodo was pale and jittery, flinching every time the night winds carried the voices of the Nine towards them. Out of all of them, he was the one most vulnerable to them, because he carried a piece of their Master.
He grimaced and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Do you know the Athelas plant?"
Sam blinked, brows furrowing. Likely a combination between the (to him) unknown name, and the (apparent) unrelated topic the Ranger started. Still, his face turned thoughtful. "I know a lot of plants, but I never heard of this Athelas one."
Just as he figured. Only few still remembered the old name, and the old purpose. "Kingsfoil"
Sam's expression lit up. "Of course I do!" Then his frown reappeared and deepened. "But, it's a weed?"
"It is a weed because people have long since forgotten its abilities", the man pointed out. "It is more. And it is the only thing that will protect us against the Nazgûl's corruption."
"It does?"
"It binds poisons", Strider explained, "Including the Morgul Poison. So to avoid any other unpleasantries, I'd like to have a stock of Athelas leaves." Sam nodded with determination, then cast one last fleeting glance towards Frodo before he hurried off with a torch in his hand.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, splitting up like this?" Alex questioned.
"The Nine are not after him", Strider pointed out, "And we don't have much of a choice either. We have no time left." The other inclined his head slightly, and the Ranger pushed on. "Keep an eye on the others, Alex. Keep them safe."
Those luminous eyes narrowed. "These robes won't know what hit them." There was some bitterness in his voice, though considering he had been stabbed in the heart with a Morgul Blade, bitterness was the least concerning consequence.
At least he knew Alex was serious about protecting the Hobbits, and he knew he was going to make the right call- he had the gut feeling that the other man was also very good at avoiding a confrontation or escaping one should he need to, so even if the Nazgûl overwhelmed them, he would be able to get the Hobbits- and the Ring- to safety and away from the Wraith.
It settled his troubled mind enough so he could actually leave them behind and head deeper into the undergrowth to look for the plant. He knew where patches of them grew, they had done so for the past few years, and they would always grow back from old roots.
Sam would find the few patches he'd spotted closer to the campsite, and he would likely gather more than was strictly necessary- but more never hurt, he figured. Now, where had he seen the Athelas plants years ago?
He crept through the dense bushes, pausing from time to time to listen to the sounds on the night winds. No Nazgûl so far, which had to be enough for now.
There- in the shine of his torch- the patch he'd been looking for. Vegetation had grown around it, hiding it, but the small white blooms and the spindly leaves were a certain tell. He knelt down, drawing his knife to start carefully cutting a few of the older plants to put them in his pouch.
If asked later, he would claim he did indeed notice the whisper of cloth, or the subtle change of air when somebody approached him, but at this time he was too occupied with listening for the clatter of hooves or the sharp screeches of the Nazgûl to realize he was being snuck on.
The sharp bite of metal at his throat made him freeze, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that somebody was holding a sword to his neck.
"What's this?" A female voice questioned, "A Ranger caught off his guard?"
Strider blinked, recognizing the voice and amused tone in it. The moment he shifted to turn around and look at the newcomer, the blade vanished from his closer vicinity. "Lady Arwen", he breathed out just as the woman sheathed her sword and smiled at him. It was a sad smile.
"It took me two days to find you", she pointed out. "You are being hunted. The Nine."
"I am aware", he admitted. "I was hoping we could shake them until we reached Rivendell-"
"There is no time", Arwen cut in urgently. "They are almost upon you."
Strider's face darkened. "Then I'll need your help." Arwen didn't need him to elaborate, just nodded grimly. Without wasting another word, he spun around and made his way back to the campsite, knowing she was right at his back.
It was only when they had crossed half the distance when he spoke up again. "There is something you need to know-"
"About the Wraith you picked up", she pointed out casually. "Elladan and Elrohir had been...very vocal about it."
Strider grimaced. "I can imagine. I also tried to get him to turn around and go back, but he insisted to follow me."
Arwen furrowed her perfectly formed eyebrows. "It is still with you?"
"Yes, he is. And he fought five of the Nine in our stead. He protected us without needing to." The Elven woman made a surprised noise, so he pressed on. "He took a Morgul Blade to the chest. For us."
"He did what?" She gasped involuntarily, "And-"
"It barely had an effect on him", Strider explained, "And I'd like Lord Elrond to have a look." He worded it so it was supposed to sound like he wanted the Elf Lord to find out what Mercer was, but in truth, he was worried about a man he began considering a friend. These blades tended to leave behind nasty bits of themselves.
Arwen hummed. "Well, I shall see for myself then what you dragged in this time", her eyes narrowed, "After we managed to shake the Nazgûl."
No argument there- Taking the Ring away from the Nine was the only thing they needed to focus on for the moment. He just hoped they had enough time left, because there was a very close-by shriek, and he really didn't like it. Arwen's lips just became thinner, and both of them started walking a little faster.
When they finally reached the campsite, Strider was relieved to see the Hobbits and Alex- all safe, and Sam even had a whole lot of Athelas with him- though Arwen tensed notably the moment she noticed the other man.
Alex in return barely regarded her with a glance before his attention returned to their surroundings. The Hobbits, however, couldn't tear their gazes off the Lady Arwen and were gaping in her direction.
"She's an Elf", Sam whispered excited. "Mr. Frodo, she's a Elf!"
Despite the situation, Arwen's lips twitched into a little smile. "Yes, I am", she pointed out casually. She turned her attention to Frodo. "And you are Frodo, the one the Nazgûl are after."
Strider could see the moment the Hobbit closed himself off, hunching his shoulders and looking a little more defensive. Good, not trusting everybody was a good instinct, even if unnecessary now.
The Elven woman saw it too, and inclined her head. "I am Arwen. I have come to help you", she told him in her native tongue- soothing and calming as Elvish always was. Frodo was no different, and his tense posture relaxed. He swallowed. "How?"
Arwen didn't reply, instead turned and whistled once. Moments later, a white dappled Elvish horse appeared in front of them, neighing and pawing the ground. The Ranger felt his breath catch- he knew she hadn't arrived on foot, but actually witnessing it- he felt it was still incredible. "Asfaloth shall carry us", the Elven woman commented simply.
"Us?" The man's brows furrowed.
"Us", Arwen repeated. "I will take Frodo to my father."
Strider inhaled sharply. "They are after him. I should be the one to take him- I can fight-"
"And I'm the faster rider", she cut him off with steel in her eyes. "They won't catch me."
"And I think you guys just have lost your entire mind", a third voice growled, sounding more like a rock slide tearing through a bunch of trees than the soft flowing voice Sindarin was supposed to be. The Man and the Elf both turned in confusion to stare at Mercer, who was glaring at them with those icy luminous eyes of his. Strider was pretty sure his face was the model picture of surprise, because until now he hadn't been aware that the other could even understand the tongue. (but then again, he'd claimed he learned common tongue just by listening to the Rangers, so it could be he was very skilled at learning other languages that easily)
"...What?", he sounded strangled.
Mercer's glare didn't ease up, only became sharper. "I said you just lost your minds." He crossed his arms and continued to glower. "You're arguing about who wants to bait a bunch of immortal things with the very object they are looking for."
Ah. Strider grimaced. "It's not ideal-"
"Ideal? You're playing awfully loose with the security of the Hobbit", Alex growled. "And didn't you tell us that the Ring was not supposed to fall into their hands? This is the entire opposite."
"We have no other choice", Arwen pointed out. "The Nazgûl are upon us. So we must risk to fly past them, to make sure Frodo is safe from them."
Mercer scowled. His eyes were still narrow. "There are nine out there. You are alone. Without backup. If things get worse, you'll have no-one to help you."
"It has to be. You can't follow- you have no swift horses and you are not fast enough on foot that the Wraith won't catch up to you-"
"He is", Strider blurted.
The Elf blinked in surprise, turning to him. "What?"
"Alex", he repeated, "He is fast enough." He turned to the other man. "You are, aren't you?"
"Fast?" He actually seemed surprised for a moment. Then his lips peeled away from his teeth in a grin. "I can easily catch up to and outrun an Emon Abrams. Fast isn't even enough to describe it."
He had no idea what an 'Emon Abrams' was, though he figured it was something very swift if he used it as comparison. He should ask him later on.
Arwen's brows furrowed deeply. "Your plan is to let him follow us, and keep the Nine off our backs" She inclined her head. "And how exactly is that supposed to work?"
"Good point", Alex agreed. "Because the last time I tried punching one of these things I went right through it."
Yeah, he...hadn't really thought that far, because all he could think of was that Arwen and Frodo would no longer be at the mercy of the Nazgûl-
"They can't be slain like any mortal creature", Strider began slowly, an idea forming inside his mind, "They don't have a real body- they are shades. But they can be displaced- their forms can be shattered with enough force." His voice became more steadfast now. "If their forms are destroyed, they have no choice but to return to their Master- powerless, invisible- until He restores them."
"And that would take a lot of time, time they won't be able to chase after the Ring", the Elven woman finished. She turned her attention towards him fully. "What is your plan?"
"Lure them to the river Bruinen", he declared. "Lure them in. And then-"
He didn't need to finish he knew when he saw her expression turn determined. The power of her father, the Lord Elrond, also extended to the lands he claimed. And the Bruinen- it was the border river of Rivendell.
"It will work", she realized. "It will vanquish them for now."
"Exactly what I thought" Without waiting another moment, Strider grabbed Frodo and lifted him on Asfaloth's back, seconds before the Elven woman mounted her steed in one smooth motion. He turned to Alex. "Protect Arwen and Frodo", he told him, and the other man's expression sharpened. "Don't let any of the Nazgûl get close to them. However, make sure all nine reach the river- we need to wipe them out in one fell swoop."
Alex cocked his head. "Consider it done."
Strider turned to Arwen. "Ride hard. Don't look back."
Arwen's eyes were steel, her face grim. She didn't acknowledge him, nor did she acknowledge the other three Hobbits, who stood by and watched the entire conversation in tense confusion. She merely leaned to the front, covering Frodo's smaller shape, and whispered "Ride fast, Asfaloth. Ride fast."
The horse dashed to the front, breaking through the shrubbery. Mercer loitered behind for a moment, glanced at the Ranger and the Hobbits, nodded briefly, and turned to follow.
It was around dawn when the Nazgûl spotted them. Alex remembered Strider saying they didn't like the sun, but apparently, they could tolerate it just fine, because one of them burst from the undergrowth and very nearly crashed into Arwen, if she hadn't yanked the reigns around and made her horse do a sharp turn.
Alex burst to the front, throwing himself between the two riders- the Wraith's horse swerved around him, shrieking, but it didn't stop or throw its rider off. (So it knew what he was, but didn't dare disobey its master)
He didn't know how to feel about that, being reduced to herding like that. He could easily wipe any foe off the map, leave nothing else behind than a bloody smear on the ground- but right now he couldn't. He couldn't because Strider had this plan, and he couldn't because he couldn't hit these things.
He could only attack the horses, but at the same time, he had to make sure they remained intact enough for the Wraith to reach the river- which basically translated to 'get in the way, but not actually do anything'.
He didn't like this kind of tactic, wasn't comfortable with leaving a threat alive and this close to the very target he was supposed to keep them away from.
(Baiting had always been the one strategy he hated most)
(Still, he kept going)
Shrieks from the side, and he changed course again. "Two on either side of you!", he barked, seconds before the black shapes appeared between the low trees. Arwen's horse jumped to the front just as Alex barreled right into the path of the riders, knocking over a tree in the process. The Wraith screeched and had to pull the horses back so they would not get crushed underneath.
He saw metal flash, and within the blink of an eye, his Armor was covering his body. The blade shattered on impact, splinters ricocheting off him. Alex grunted and kicked off the ground to leap away and get closer to the Elf's heels. His shell slowed him down greatly, though he was still faster than a horse at full gallop, so catching up to them was child's play. He could hear their startled intake of breath even over the thudding of his own feet, and knew they are staring at him wide-eyed (even if he couldn't confirm).
He also knew he was terrifying in his Armor, but was also unwilling to leave himself vulnerable to these poisoned blades. Getting stabbed once was already bad enough, and he didn't want to risk wasting any more Biomass if he didn't have access to a secure source to re-supply himself.
So they just had to deal with it.
He couldn't dwell any longer on these thoughts, because there were two Wraith lurking in the nearby shrubbery, and one further up the path. He snorted and whistled sharply, drawing the Elf's attention. "Two on your left, but right of you another guy further up."
Her expression twitched, but she nodded. "Hold the two off us for a moment." She pointed out, and pulled left. Alex kicked off the floor and threw himself left too, hitting the ground with enough distance to the Elven horse to not stagger it, but close enough to the Ringwraith to stagger them. Which was enough for Arwen to steer her horse past them and away from the one trying to ambush them.
The Nazgûl regrouped fast, chasing after them merely moments later. There were six on their tail now, with three still missing. Alex found himself somewhat surprised- he'd always thought only Blackwatch had the monopoly on being that tenacious.
(But then again, ever since he woke up here, he had to realize that there were a lot of things he'd taken for granted that just didn't happen. He knew things were screwed with his head, but he never knew how much)
His nerves suddenly lit up as his attention was yanked away and his body thrust itself to the front without his conscious decision. It took him a second to realize what was going on- two more Ring Wraith were trying to cut them off and he noticed it and was in the process of just ripping them limb from limb- and he just barely managed to wrestle his instincts into behaving. Instead of turning them to mist, he caught himself and turned a blow that had, in the past, pulverized whole squads of Blackwatch into a wide swing that shattered a nearby boulder and sent the Nazgûl shrieking away from him (and Arwen by default).
He wasn't supposed to kill them, not only because he couldn't, but also because Strider and the woman had had this kind of great plan, and wanted the Wraith to reach the river intact.
Beneath his shell, he grit his teeth in displeasure at the sheer idea of leaving them alive. But he could do it. He was adaptable like that.
"Ride fast!" Arwen's voice sounded like a whip to Alex's ears even when it was spoken almost in whisper. Her horse burst to the front with a sudden surge of speed, and he whipped his head around, quickly counting the cold spots following them. Nine. There were Nine now.
And they were gaining.
He snorted, and his arm started writhing, Armor peeling away and replacing itself with twisted strands of flesh. He didn't slow down, instead anchored one foot into the ground to use his own momentum to spin himself around and lashing out his Whipfist in one movement. The Nazgûl instantly braked hard, the horses shrieking and rearing up to avoid the lethal black tentacle that tore into the trees on either side of them. Wood splintered and branches snapped as they toppled, forming a barricade. It would buy them some time to do...whatever it was Strider and Arwen had planned.
...He hoped they had a plan and weren't making things up as they went.
His arm snapped back and re-shaped itself into its armored appearance just as the Runner turned on his heel and dashed after the others once again. They've gotten away some distance already, but distance and speed meant little to Blacklight.
He caught up to them in no time flat. "Clear so far"
Frodo craned his head around. "They're coming back", he piped up.
Arwen cursed under her breath, glancing back herself-
Her head snapped back to the front, and Alex's body froze in mid-motion.
Even though his shell greatly muted his senses, some sensations crossed the barrier easily- and the scent of blood was one of those things.
His rudimentary eyes and thermal vision instantly zeroed in on the thin red line that had opened up under the Elf woman's eye from being hit by a wayward tree branch.
It was attractive- Attractive to a predator that was designed to stalk and devour living being whole, that was.
Blacklight moved again, and it took Alex a few seconds to realize that it was from a whole different reason than he was supposed to.
It was a hunt.
Alex inhaled deeply, forced himself to slow down. He wasn't hunting- he was following to protect. He's done that before- the Thermobaric Tank. The Pumper Vehicle.
The stakes were much lower here, but no less important. He could go and find something to consume once he knew the others were safe. He snorted with a mixture of amusement and resignation. "Just a practice of self-restraint", he muttered under his breath, then threw a glance back. The Nine were back on their tails again, trying to gather ground.
Arwen made a sound, trying to draw attention. Alex's attention instantly snapped to her. "We'll reach the river soon", she told him with vigor in her voice, and her head was turned in his direction, "The way you just ripped down those trees- can you make sure the Nine stay inside the water?"
Alex forced himself to grin, even though it got lost beneath his shell. "No problem."
The Elf woman nodded, and leaned over Frodo's back to plead the horse to run faster.
The forest floor soon gave way to gravel. Alex instantly dived to the side to duck into the underbrush and hide for a moment, while Arwen spurred her horse one last time and dashed through the creek. Water splashed as she turned the animal to face their hunters.
The Nazgûl broke through the underbrush then, stopping shrieking in front of the creek. The horses reared back, kicking the air and pawing at the ground, not daring to move closer towards the water. The Nazgûl didn't notice Alex either, not even as he carefully slid through the shrubbery in the back without making any sort of noise. He'd rarely done this before, and it was fun.
He winced when the leader hissed at Arwen, demanding her to hand over the Halfling. Its voice was like nails on a chalkboard directly inside his brain, and it made his arms erupt into claws he had to dig into the ground to avoid leaping out of his cover and blow the entire ambush. He had to wait for the signal, not having an idea what it might be asides from the certainty that he'd know once he'll see it.
The sound of metal on metal drew his attention away from the ruined floor and his head snapped around to witness Arwen drawing a curved sword from its sheath on her hip. "If you want him", she snarled with steel in her voice, "Then come and claim him."
The Wraith didn't reply, just pulled their own straight swords near simultaneously. One spurred its horse and started to approach the water, even if the animal bucked and shied away. The moment it finally stepped into the river, the other Wraith followed, closing in threateningly on Arwen and Frodo.
The Hobbit was terrified enough that Alex could notice his fear even across their distance and the rigid shell that muted his senses.
The Elf wasn't. Or, not as much, because he could still hear the pitch in her voice when she started mumbling under her breath. It was something about water- and then something inside of him shivered. He heard the normally gentle flow of the creek increase, heard the water flow faster.
Then he heard the roar, and his head snapped to the side where the river curved out of sight. Even with his rudimentary sense of sight he could see the truly massive tidal wave that ripped from the narrow canyon upstream. And...were those horses? For a moment Alex thought something was wrong with his eyes, or he finally went mad, but no. The froth and water really took the shape of armed riders, and they were closing in on the Wraith fast.
The Nazgûl screeched and ripped at the reins, and their steeds more or less catapulted themselves away from the middle of the river.
Alex was supposed to not let them leave it. And he was very good at blowing apart the plans of others.
With a primal snarl, he leapt out of the shrubbery, claws blazing when he hit the floor with a solid thud. The black horses shrieked and instantly changed course to try and get on land further down the stream.
He wouldn't let them. Dropping to his knee, he jammed both claws into the ground to unravel himself and channel Blacklight through the gravel- and yank a cluster of two-story tall spikes from the soil several yards away from his current position. The horses screamed again and curved away from the Blacklight Biomass panicking, trying to escape the flood at the same time.
The water was faster.
With a noise that made even Alex wince (breaking bones and drowning shrieks, useless pleas and gasping chokes as the cold dark forced its way into lungs and shattered bodies) the foam swallowed up the black riders, leaving no trace of them.
For several moments, he just stared as the flood receded as quickly as it had come until he remembered to move. With a grunt he pulled the Groundspikes and Claws back into himself and climbed to his feet, brushing off his hands. Then his Armor sank back under his skin and his world was filled with sounds and colors once more.
Instead of relief to be rid of these pesky things, his body was jittery. Every nerve was thrumming, his cells squirming beneath his surface. He felt betrayed- he had finished the hunt, but there was no reward. No prey to consume.
And it had been way too long since he had consumed. This wasn't how Blacklight wanted to operate.
Under these circumstances, he couldn't continue acting like nothing happened, and he could still smell the Elf's blood.
Forcing himself to remain rooted to his spot, he threw his head to the side to lock gazes with the woman and the Hobbit. "You go on, I'll go and check whether they really ate shit", he heard himself say, voice too casual for the raging inferno inside of him.
He saw Arwen frown. "They will have", she called back, "They are gone. I need you to meet my father."
"Can't blame a man for being thorough", he replied, turning away. "I'll catch up with you guys." Then he was off before he could hear an answer.
They couldn't stop him anyways.
You heard it here first: Alex is a good boy. Now somebody just needs to tell him.
Also, the only time I get to write a chase scene. Enjoy it while it lasts.