Thank you Ruiniel, for the quick efficient work to make the words flow better and for the everlasting enthusiasm for fandom and the mutual inspiration.

For those who have been waiting: thank you for your patience and leave a review if you can! Love to hear what you think

CHAPTER 29 ELROHIR WATCHED WITH TIRED EYES THE SILENT…

Elrohir watched with tired eyes the careful approach of the two Warg. Curse his luck! And he was already tired, drained by the evil that had befallen these lands.

The shard of self pity fractured by the dash of the Warg on his left. An attempt to distract him from the other darting to his right engaging in a rear attack. Suldal bolted forwards by a thorough nudge of his boots and he flung his sword to counter the beast at his left flank. A growl. A spray of blood. White teeth snapped near Suldal's soft skin, before it pelted away, absorbed by the dark. Only for a moment.

Then a sudden sharp pain of claws in his shoulder from the rear and the beast's weight sinking the claws deeper still. The surprise pushed him from his saddle. He tried to take control of the movement with his body, grappling with his fingers for grip. When he found it, he pulled with all his inhuman strength and slammed it against the rocks.

Within the sudden pause, Elrohir gasped for breath, trying to regain control. A panicked whinny from Suldal alerted him to the location of the other Warg. With dread in his gut he saw his friend disappearing in the darkness. But it was not the silhouette of a Warg, but that of a troll emerging from the shadows of an immense toppled boulder.

He watched its silent entrance with apprehension. While he would have rejoiced in the past to be faced by an extra challenging enemy, it only caused frustration now. He felt drained and in need of his brother. There was no time for risks in these infested lands, not when they were on an errand to aid Rin.

His train of thought was shattered by the attack that burst through it. At last the other warg jumped at him, the big maw almost catching his face. In reflex he dropped his sword and grasped its head. An impossible position, a suicide strategy for a warrior. The maw was still biting air but Elrohir could not loosen his grip. With all his strength he pressed his fingers in the warg's flesh, feeling teeth give way and bone breaking. With a final push, he screamed his power into its horrid features.

But before he could be sure the animal had died, he was forced to release it. The replacement of air alerted him and he dived for the glint of his sword. Leaving the warg gurgling to the side, he tried once again to regain its ground. A big club swung for his head and he barely managed to evade it.

Another swing and he jumped backwards. His scrambled mind worried about Suldal. The other warg was still gone and he found himself praying that his friend would be alright.

And then the troll attacked again. With surprising strength. And Elrohir reacted too late once again. What was the matter with him! The club's weight exploded against his chest, sending him flying backward. Pain erupted in his body. Rage conquered his brain and it shut down all thoughts about Suldal, Rin or his brother. And like wildfire invited, he gladly succumbed to his bloodlust.

Hidden away in between the remnants of a barrel vault ceiling, Elladan stared at the scene ahead. He had left the young mortals further down the slopes of the downs, hidden in the greens.

With stealth he had woven himself between ruins and orcs in search of the small fire wedged in between them. And to his anguish he discovered it was Rin that was under attack. In the wake of this realisation he knew the village must have been overrun by Gorchack.

Arathorn was slain.

There was no other scenario where Rin would have left that place with a villager under her wing, not waiting for their return. But what happened to Gilraen and her child?

For a moment he felt an intense guilt. Was this misfortune that happened upon these innocent mortals of their making? To meddle with foresight has proven perilous in the past, and it seemed to play out like that. They should have stopped Rin seeking out Gilraen and found another way to eliminate the threat of Gorchack.

It was another moment where he questioned the ways of his brother and himself. What consequences had their choice to live for revenge?

But deep down he knew it would have happened sooner or later. Gorchack and the master he served sought to annihilate elves and men, to submit the North to their terror reign. And right now, they were the only ones that could stop at least this specific minion that the enemy had sent southwards.

He watched Rin fighting for her life. His sharp eyes followed her movements with rapt apprehension. Her footwork was still light as a feather, but the movements of her arms were sluggish. Her eyes contained the beginnings of panic, her hair was like spilled black ink plastered over her forehead, while the rest of the wet strands were following her movements like a black flame. Her black clothing merged with her surroundings, but for Elven eyes the movements stood out.

Her fight was on the verge of desperation. The fight took too long, the enemy too strong. She tried to reach the mortal, tried to protect the weaker fighter.

The mortal was on the verge of exhaustion or shock he could not tell. His eyes returned to Rin, her graceful fighting, the strong but small frame, bending, turning, twisting, blood splatters on her cheek seemed to enhance the fire within her and he felt his stomach somersaulting.

He had to restrain himself from plunging blindly into her fight. They had to change their ways and he would. They had said to stop their path of self destruction and revenge. And now he was standing here, eye to eye with a fight that would make his heart sing and blood flow and fizz. It would make his numbness flee, brighten his mind and life would beat through his limbs. Temptation had reared its ugly head and decades of conditioning surfaced. He was addicted to this bloodthirst.

The realisation was deep. But biting the inside of his cheek, he forced himself to assess first. Rin was on the verge of collapsing, but the mortal's chances were slimmer. Convinced he could tip the balance with ease, he jumped from his hiding place down in the corridor and charged.

The introduction of a Noldor prince in the midst of the fight, sent a fright into the orcs. Elladan's power filled the corridor like water. A flurry of movement and barking orders. A single screech. Then the flash of metal on metal, Elladan's sword danced in the dark, sprays of black blood following in its wake. After a quick and dirty scramble the orcs quickly retreated into the dark.

A deep silence fell. Rin was panting, leaning on her knees. Darian stumbled before leaning into the wall.

The sight of him was enough to send a lightness into her, noticed Elladan. But the heaviness was still there. This was how far fear and desperation had pushed her.

"Are they gone?" Darian's voice sounded like a shivering leaf.

"No chance. They are just regrouping. Keep your sword drawn." Elladan stared into the darkness with keen eyes. His thoughts raced, calculating the next steps.

Rin stared at him speechless. Elladan smiled at her. "Breathe, Rin, it is only me."

"How did you!? Where did you…?"

"We were on a rescue mission to retrieve the young scouts. You remember the ones you gave your dagger to?" She nodded, surprise still evident on her face.

"We found them further south on the Downs. The youngest in bad shape. Then we saw the light of the fire."

"Where are they now? You did not bring them here?"

"They are safe, further down."

"And Elrohir?"

"First tell me, Rin. What happened in the village? Is Arathorn still alive?"

Forgotten grief resurfaced and overcame her features and deep shame clouded her eyes for a moment. "I failed them Elladan! He was slain. I left the village with only Darian, Maeva and Gilraen."

Relief flooded Elladan. "Gilraen lives? Those are good tidings at least. Did she give birth yet?"

Rin swallowed, grasping Elladan's arm while pointing with her sword towards the dark entranceway. "Maeva took Gilraen there. She said they needed quietness to speed up the process. The waters broke hours ago already. You have to help them with your medical knowledge! The only thing I can do is fight! "

Elladan knew her reasoning was sound. Childbirth was risky for mortals, his knowledge could ensure a healthy baby and mother. But he had to leave Rin and Darian to defend them here. it would complicate this situation in more than one way.

His brother could tip the balance from utter despair towards one of hope. But he had no inkling of Elrohir's whereabouts.

The outcome of events seemed uncertain. His train of thought was interrupted. He heard movement and sound, stealthy feet and soft paws. He stared in the darkness that the fire could not disperse.

Rin stared at his defensive posture and grabbed his arm."Elladan! We need to go to Gilraen! You need to help them."

Elladan was standing in concentrated silence, letting Rin shake him and soon Darian hissed at her to be quiet.

Rin followed Elladan's gaze in alarm.

The elf's eyes were staring a few heartbeats longer. With a slow and deliberate movement he unsheathed his sword and with urgency he hissed: "Run!"

He pushed Rin towards the gaping black opening of the corridor behind them. And like coiled springs being set free they bolted into the pitch black, trusting that the way would be straight and smooth.

The intense darkness felt suffocating, the thumping of heavy metal boots echoing behind them. It was claustrophobic. The musty smell of sand and fungus filled her nostrils. The air became colder and it clung to her. Panic seized Rin's feet and it felt like she was flying within suspended time.

And then with a shock she saw light while at the same time Elladan cursed in the rear. A clash of metal against metal and a piercing scream, loud yelling. Darian crashed into her and she fell to the side of the wall, she smelled the stench of an orc in between them and blindly pulled her katana. But Elladan was faster and he pierced the creature before she could attempt it in the darkness.

"Don't just stand here! Run!" he pushed at her again and this time Darian went before her. There was no time to turn and she ran onward, racing towards the light at the end of the tunnel, strengthened by the idea of Elladan behind her.

Beneath the panic and laboured breathing she prayed that Gilraen and Maeva were not yet overrun by the orcs. In the pit of her stomach she felt guilt to not have considered making a stand to protect them earlier. But Maeva had been adamant in the isolation considering the progress of the delivery. Or were they leading the enemy unnecessarily towards them?

But there had been no other choice. At least with Elladan's help they could make a stand that meant something.

The corridor gave way to a large space with a stone dome, still intact. A small fire burned and she saw the silhouettes of the two women on the other side.

All was not well.

Maeva stood screaming at a large orc that she held at bay with a long knife. Her thrusts were weak and slow moving. The orc was laughing, mocking her while sidestepping her attacks with ease. It was teasing her, playing. Like a cat with a mouse. The stupidity! It gave them a chance and hope sprang up in her chest.

But it was a small hope. Six more orcs were there and Elladan behind her cursed. Darian ran forward with a battlecry distracting them, while Rin and the elf charged in silence.

Rin ran towards a smaller orc closest. She cut at its legs, crippling it and it screamed pitifully. But the large orc that was teasing Maeva had now grasped the girl's wrist, sending the knife to the ground with a clatter. Rin hesitated. Fear for the women's safety made her overthink her reaction.

What could be done? Help Maeva? Or Darian? Where were the other orcs all of a sudden? Where was Gorchack? There were too many paths to consider, too many people to save at this moment and she felt anguish while the conflict tore at her. And where was Elrohir? She was not a strategist, knew nothing of military tactics.

But she had forgotten the presence of an experienced Noldor warrior in their midst. While their indecision churned, Elladan had sprinted forward and within a split second of decision making, threw his sword at the large orc that held Maeva, piercing it through the chest, effectively disarming himself. Within the momentum, his hands flew towards a large dagger at his side. And while his sprint followed the trajectory of his sword, he managed a mighty jump that landed him on his feet onto the orc's chest where he drew the weapon free with a sickening sound. Blood spurted onto the girl and his clothes, but he was already moving towards the next orc.

For some time Elladan's confident purpose seemed to erase all doubt in Rin and Darian's minds and a succession of fights followed. Then, after a while Rin noticed helplessly that for each fallen orc another took its place. She realised that more were coming through the corridors into the domed space and she knew with certainty that if help did not come soon, they would be overrun and the women would be lost to them.

Still she fought on, pushing away distracting thoughts. Where was Elrohir? And then Elladan fell in sync with her, their movements complimenting each other and relief flooded her for a moment.

Hack, slash, push, shove. But the orcs multiplied, one before the other. Fatigue weighed down on their limbs and the circle of defence became smaller and smaller still. The warm stinking bodies started to suffocate and push at them. Loud cries deafening them. Rin found herself lost in time, with only the fight anchoring her down. The presence of Elladan steadfast, a small speck of concern for Darian until also that was wiped away by sheer survival instinct.

Olban steered his horse uphill with a more determined hand than he felt. A quick glance at his childhood friend Fric told him that he was still following. Good. Because their plan was insane. Irresponsible. Irrational. He knew this. But he felt he had no choice. He knew there was trouble uphill, because the horse of one of the Elf lords had wandered astray within the ruins.

The animal was now meandering in between the stone structures and they followed. It seemed an impossibility, to assume the horse would lead them anywhere. But Olban felt it distinctly despite his reserve. The horse would lead them to its master. One of the fires, the one on top of the hills, had died. The other was still there, like a beacon of hope or despair. He felt the latter to be true. Going there was suicide.

Just follow the horse.

Fric had disagreed. With passion. But Olban knew that to keep waiting for dawn was not within his capabilities. He needed to feel useful. It was why he volunteered to scout.

The fear of failure was overwhelming. The anticipation of the humiliation of being rescued again. Or to plunge his friend into life threatening danger. All the possibilities were in his grasp for some reason. And now he tried to find his way through them. To seek what was beyond the trodden paths of the expected.

The wind swept them upwards. And he spurred his horse on, while gazing upon Fric for a moment. He seemed alright. The strangeness that had caught him earlier had passed. He could discern his freckles again on his cheeks. Good. Despite his vulnerability for the evil that was around them, Fric was good in a fight. He knew how to wield a knife. To fight with speed and agility, to find the weak spots. Olban hoped those skills were not needed.

But soon his thoughts drifted to the elf lords. He hoped that his impulsiveness would turn out well. He hated to have to face their wrath if Fric and himself needed saving again.

Still.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Somewhere their help was needed.

And he refused to wait passively for death to come for them.

Up the winds blew them until the horse stood still underneath a sheltered piece of wall, crooked trees huddled around it. The animal seemed in distress and Fric hissed behind him. "There is something there. The horses are scared. Can't you feel it?"

Olban knew his friend was right. He pulled the dagger reluctantly out of its sheath, and the metal glowed faintly and dull in the darkness. So no orcs too near. What could it be?

Then a gush of wind brought two things, a potent animal smell and a deep yell. And the young man jumped into action. Somebody was in trouble!

Speeding ahead they stumbled upon a gruesome sight. One of the Elven lords was struggling to keep one warg and what looked like a troll at bay. The creature was like a giant mountain of flesh, stumbling clumsily towards the blade of his foe. It seemed unperturbed by the wounds that were inflicted on it. Olban noticed how fatigued the Elf lord was. Another warg lay slaughtered on the ground, its blood like a black mirror underneath it.

Olban charged without thinking, racing towards the scene, fear pressed down. His sword raised to hack the neck of the troll with all its might. But as if the creature was made of stone, it bounced off and his sword was flung from his hand. Fric yelled behind him, charging as well. He yelled at Olban: "Aim for the eyes!"

As if from a distance he heard the Elf lord growl, either at their stupidity or at their enemies. Olban was unsure. The troll had turned towards him now, raising a club with surprising speed and slamming it down on his head. Barely escaping a gruesome fate, Olban dived towards the ground. But the creature was relentlessly raising trying to hit him. Frantically he scurried away over the ground, trying to find his bearings but failing. With a flash the Elf lord's sword sliced through the air, cutting at the creature's shoulder.

He looked terrible. His eyes seemed to emanate fire and his lips were pulled back, showing his teeth. There was no one there in his eyes, no recognition, only a hunger for violence.

Olban heard stories about this, when he was little. Stories about these elf lords that made him shiver and go to bed scared. How they rampaged underneath the orc infested mountains a long time ago, to retrieve their mother from the clutches of the orc kingdoms there. How they rescued her against all odds. But with their greatest victory came their downfall, for they returned changed, their elven essence tarnished, doomed to forever be slaves to their revenge.

Olban had not understood, not truly. But seeing the lost eyes, devoid of emotions, lasting for violence he felt the goosebumps of his childhood once more and wondered if they would make it out of this situation alive. He stared at Fric and felt guilt seeping into his stomach like poison.

Rin had trouble seeing straight, blood hindering her view. She held her hands up high to counter blow after blow from the axe of a large orc. And with each blow she felt herself become smaller, downsized, and she became more desperate.

In the distance a horn sounded. A clear joyous sound, bouncing off the moist walls around them. She screamed, trying to find strength.

The horn again. Louder this time and hope flared into her heart. Shouts in the distance and the sounds of hoofs. And then, as if a waterflood broke, Men entered the space from two corridors at the same time. There was no time to adjust and they just dove into the fight.

Rin's heart sprang up in hope and joy. They were saved. This was the group of Halbaran. And then the pressure of the axe disappeared and strong hands lifted her. Raithon stared at her with sharp eyes. Putting her back on her feet. There was no time for greetings here. He turned to catch another blow of another axe. And then another.

Halbaran! Elladan's heart surged with hope! No matter the odds! Halbaran was here and with many warriors. Then a familiar fëa: Raithon! Within the whirl of swords and bodies he embraced the one that had grown so close to them. Raithon's fëa was soothing in a way that his brother never could be. The embrace was fierce and short, for the enemy crashed against them.

Raithon's features stood sharp and fierce. And Elladan noticed he seemed to be protecting a young man. But there was no time for more thoughts and Elladan turned to the fight, the reinforcers causing him to relax and lose control, giving in to the bloodlust that he craved.

But his inner voice stopped him from toppling over. The arrival of Halbaran's men had alarmed the orcs and now it seemed that they made a run for it. The women! Focussing on their whereabouts he noticed them being manhandled. To his horror, an orc grabbed Gilraen by her hair, dragging her over the ground for a while, then holding her underneath her armpits, her belly sticking out, looking vulnerable. Her hair was plastered over her sweating face, her features far away and in pain. The creature was making for a dark corridor at the far end, while Elladan was still caught up in his fight.

Where was Rin? His eyes searched for her frantically. At his left Darian was trying to save Maeva with difficulty. The young man was braving the rusty blades of the orcs, but the fatigue had truly caught up. He would not hold for much longer. Maeva's face, white as a sheet, floated in the dark right behind him. The Guard was still at Elladan's right and back. It would take some time for them to get in control.

After several breaths Elladan caught a glimpse of black hair. Forcing a way through the fight he tried to reach her. "Rin!"

The small woman had heard, with elegant movements she turned and twisted, creating openings, but they were filled with new enemies immediately. They locked eyes over the sea of orcs and during a second of silent breathing they came to an agreement. Elladan was too far away. He could not follow. But he could stay behind and save Maeva and her lover. Elladan gritted his teeth. The feeling of not being in control felt like agony. And he redirected his frustration on his enemies.

He watched helplessly as the orcs that held Gilraen, ran towards the dark corridor, Rin hot on their heels. He watched with heavy heart how the darkness ate her silhouette, until she disappeared altogether. And then, to his horror. Oc's followed.

The chase was a nightmare flight through the darkness. The sound of heavy boots chasing her, making her stumble until it felt like a sightless scramble. She had no idea who was behind her, friend or foe.

And then the vaulted ceiling suddenly gave way to a dark sky and wind hit her face. The orcs that took Gilraen were disappearing in the far distance. Too fast for her mortal legs. She braced herself under the realisation that her chasers were about to overtake their quarry.

And the thought had not entered her mind or she smacked into the ground. An orc with a rope javelin stood in the gaping darkness of the corridor, leering at her, smacking his lips while grasping a knife from its belt. He was hauling her in like a fish on a hook. Rin scrambled, trying to free herself, to hold on to the ground, clawing her fingers into the earth, to get away from him.

But it was no use and panic took her breath away. This wasn't happening! She felt her nails breaking from the force of her fingers digging into the rocky earth.

Then the sound of hooves and a presence next to her skidded and slipped over wet grass and stones. The rope was cut loose and a sword pierced the orc's chest. The orc stared dumbfounded at it, then fell backwards.

Her saviour wrung his weapon out of the flesh, listening to the sounds in the tunnel. Then more sounds of metal on metal, yells and grunts. Then silence.

Rin stood, rubbing her elbow while she realised that it was none other than Elrohir accompanied by the two young Dunedain, that she recognized as the ones that she lent her dagger to. The boys seemed pale, but determination shone in their eyes.

Warmth spread through her while Elrohir's grey eyes assessed her, his voice gruff as ever: "Alright?" She nodded while walking towards the scouts. She clasped hands with the eldest. He smiled at her.

"Glad to see you are alright."

His smile was shy. Lifting a blade to show her he stated: "It has saved our lives, my Lady. Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

Grinning, she nodded. Relief flooded her. She turned to Elrohir: "You went to find them."

The elf stared towards the tunnel and ignored her: "We should go."

Rin had a good look at him now. He looked dreadful, blood caked to his clothing. Suldal seemed restless. "Whose blood is that?" she could not help the suspicion in her voice.

"Warg."

She knew better than to question him on possible injuries. She sighed. Damn elves.

Elrohir walked towards her. "Come." His large frame towered over her and the smell of horse, blood and something distinctly Elrohir engulfed her. He grasped her upper arm to direct her towards Suldal. His presence was so comforting, she stopped him and encircled his waist for a moment. With some hesitation his arms held her. But there was no time. His voice reverberated through her: "We should turn back. Something is not right up there. Fear has free reign."

Rin detached herself and frowned. "It is precisely there, where the orcs took Gilraen. We must."

Elrohir cursed. "It all comes together now and not in a good way. Gorchack must have chosen that place on purpose."

Elrohir ordered the boys to seek out their clansmen downhill after a quick debrief with Rin. and soon Rin and Elrohir ran uphill. Their feet ran over century worn steps, sagging walls, right into a bewildering maze of paths dipped in ink. Now and then huge stone bulks rose dark above them in between wet grasses and neglected vegetation. Centuries-weathered buildings and facades, gaping at them, showing their empty guts.

Soon Rin felt her lungs burn in her body. The confusing labyrinth of ruins was playing tricks on her mind. They kept seeing glimpses of the orcs, and it seemed they went around in circles, confusing and disorientating. The only constant was the percentage of the hill. And downhill the battle between the Dunedain and the orcs was persisting. There were more torches visible underneath them, but also in other directions. Were they closing in? It was not possible to see if the lights were friend or foe.

Rin's feet got tangled in the tall grass once more, causing her to fall flat forward. Her loud curse made Elrohir turn. She scrambled to her feet and they ran right into an ink black shadow underneath a pile of stones. There was loose rubble underneath their feet, but behind the stones, they came to an abrupt halt. A large flat plateau stretched out before their feet and they could see the orcs, but that was not what stopped them in their tracks.

A very singular aura stretched out and hovered over the battered remnants of a building, now crumbling under the weight of time. There was desolation and the feel of a lurking horror that could not be known. And she knew then for certain that this was the place where Darian found her zoning out earlier. And it was precisely here that Gorchak had been hiding.

Stepping on the windswept grass, she felt the wind die down all of a sudden, as if she stepped into a vacuum. Behind the windows lurked a darkness so deep that her eyes could not hold onto it. There was an unnamed presence there, an ancient evil. Waiting patiently.

Elrohir's hand had slipped around hers. When did he catch it? He felt warm and alive and it cleared her mind enough.

She watched Gilraen, the woman's moans resonating within her very bones. The large orc that she recognized as Gorchaks second was holding her by her hair. Her belly was sticking out obscenely. The vulnerability of her body was excruciating. It would be so easy for the black bloodstained sword against the delicate skin to part it, no pressure was needed and two lives would end at the same time.

Gorchak sat on a boulder next to them, grinning. The shock of it shook her body. Had he been there all along? She blinked owlishly at him.

He chuckled at her state: "Maybe make her bleed a bit, Dakgorim."

Dakgorim smiled with glee, black teeth showing.

Gorchak leered at Rin. "You see, Shimizu Rin? I told you. I will make you watch while I end the line of hope and I will taste that white flesh. And you will live longest to see my glory while I bring you to my master to serve him and witness their torture."

Rin shivered at his words. The reality of their situation hitting home. This was game over indeed. She saw no escape. Only the inevitable. Darkness swept through her mind. She was powerless to save others. And that dark pit where Nao fell from the couch opened inside of her and grew larger, until it threatened to swallow her.

Dakgorim's blade made blood trickle from Gilraen's throat until she moaned again. In the wake of his words a wave of darkness flooded over Rin. A deep darkness where despair reigned. And for a moment she felt unable to breathe. She had felt it before. When she stood here alone. It came from the empty ruins right behind Gorchak. It felt like an open mouth devouring the light that was left inside her. And in the wake of despair there was fear. And it washed over her mind, paralysing her completely.

Elrohir next to her had been shivering while he watched Gorchak licking his lips pleasantly. But then he felt an odd impulse to gaze into the darkness in the gaping empty windows behind the orc. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to look elsewhere. To not see what was there to be seen. But the unnamed presence grew in his mind. And Gorchak's words, for he kept talking, escaped his mind. He saw a darkness so big that it could devour the world and it seemed his life was merely a speck of dust. There was no escaping it. And Gorchak's summons seemed futile to resist. He took a step forward.

Rin saw Elrohir move from the corner of her eye. Her mind was barely functioning. Mouth dry, fear paralysing her vocal cords, she screamed inside her mind. But no sound was there. All orcs seemed skittish, even the large Dakgorim. But Gorchack leered at them. Seemingly existing inside a small voice within fear itself.

Elrohir fell to his knees. Eyes distant and empty, watching the horror of the deep darkness approach. He underwent it in silence. His voice gone, his mind gone, only a vague realisation of what was going on. And the horror of the inevitable made him shake.

He screamed. He wasn't sure if it was out loud, in the sudden silent night air. Or that he screamed inside his mind. While he fell to his knees he clawed at the ground before him. And suddenly he was deep underneath the mountains. A lifetime ago. Searching for his mother, slaying orc after orc, tearing his fëa in anguish. Seeking dungeon after dungeon. The heat of the fires scorched his skin. Panic seizing him. Until he finally found her.

Deep underneath the roots of the mountains they found her. A tortured shell of the elleth that they had called mother. Her light was gone.

He pulled at her hand frantically. The orcs hot on his heels. He was so tired.

Her eyes did not see. The emptiness came crashing back to him. She was gone already, she had travelled, only her body remained. And the agony of knowing she was not really there cut through his fëa once again, as fresh as on that cursed day.

He noticed he was crying. An orc was advancing. He saw it.

But he could not move.

Rin next to him was bending forward on the ground, screaming. Nao haunted her mind over and over again. Desperately she tried to close that burning pit of despair, but it was no use. With each word of the small orc, the darkness seemed to increase, until it seemed unbearable.

Was he doing this? Was he some kind of dark wizard? Or did some lurking creature hold such a force that it rendered them all powerless?

From the corner of her eyes she realised vaguely that orcs were cowering within the vicinity of the dark presence as well, some screaming in terror.

But like a wave, the feeling ceased as well, and after some time her mind came back little by little.

And while her thoughts became more rational, she noticed Gorchack turning from watching the trail of blood on Gilraen's neck, his attention to Elrohir. His gaze held too much focus, until he said with a raw voice, "Surrender to me now, Peredhil."

And hope flared in her heart at those words.