The Shadowhunter winced as she glanced over shoulder to look at the bruise the falling chunk of ice had given her. It had slowly begun to acquire a black and blue tinge, but it was not bad enough to warrant a rune. She could live with the bruise and it would fade on its own – no point using a stele on it. Pulling her shirt straight again and slipping her dry, warmed gear back on and then her dry cloak, she settled back against the tree trunk she was leaning against. She still felt the chill from the mountain and she hoped that – if Gimli's people were still alive – they had some warm baths she could soak in.

Her musings were cut short by Aragorn, however, as the Ranger came up to her from his place by the fire. She had taken her usual position a few feet away from the circle of firelight. It usually provided her with some solitude, but apparently not that night. The Ranger clearly wanted a word – or words – and she wasn't sure wanted to give them to him right then.

"That scar," said Aragorn, "what is the story behind it?"

"Which scar?" she asked with a faint note of tired amusement. "I have many Ranger."

"The burn," he said, "the one on your wrist."

She was very quiet for a long moment and then she said with a quick curious gaze towards him, "Why that one? I have other ones that are much more impressive." One hand automatically went to the old injury, absently rubbing it as if she remembered the pain. However, for that particular one, she didn't nor even how she had gotten it.

He was silent, gazing at her as they rested for a few brief hours before they started their march towards the black darkness of Moria. She would, he knew, answer him eventually. The Ranger had come to realize that sometimes one just had to wait for the Shadowhunter to find either the words or the desire to explain some part of her complex mask.

She let out an irritated huff at his continued silence. "I got it a few months ago during a battle that was fought against a Shadowhunter who had…well he had gone bad and gathered an army of demons. Somehow, in the heat of battle, I got burned and it ruined the mark so I had to have it redone." With a note of annoyance in her voice Aiedale asked again, "Why that scar?"

"It looked strange," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "And it was small and I thought it wise to start there."

She laughed at him, shaking her head as she did so. "That is not the answer I wanted."

"Tell me about this battle then," said the Ranger with a teasing note to his voice. "I feel like pushing my luck."

For a second she almost wanted to slam the door in his face. For a long moment she hovered between telling him what he had asked and telling him that she didn't talk about that sort of thing in the rudest way she could. But she hesitated. Aragorn, she knew, would understand if she didn't want to speak of long, bloody battle where she had lost more than one friend. Yet, as she looked into his clear grey eyes she saw openness and understanding that suddenly made her feel a little better. Because, at the same time he would understand her refusal, he would understand what she was trying to say. He knew. He knew and so she broke character and opened a chapter in her life that she had tried to forget – the ink upon its pages was still fresh and the grief, pain and regret was all too ready to be remembered.

"We won," she began haltingly and then she paused as she thought back to those fierce arguments in the council room over the looming decision of either to fight or surrender to Valentine. She tried again, tried to force the words out, "We won because we were just that little bit ahead of him. His name was Valentine and he had once been powerful, respected and important. But then he fell," she stopped and tried to find the words to explain. "People thought he had been killed, but he had only been in hiding and then…then he came back."

She looked down at her hands and continued, "He didn't realize how quickly we had rallied, or how willing his only daughter was to betray him so that we could gain the upper hand against him and his demon army. It is true that we were outnumbered, but with some help we saw him coming - saw the swarms of demons flocking to his call. And that gave us time to rally. We met him, beat him back, and many were lost."

Aiedale let out a long whoosh of air and continued, "In the fire and fury of those days I was in Alicante with my cousins and my uncle. My brother and aunt remained behind in Paris. I watched a battle building and watched as warriors fell." She smiled a small, bitter smile, "Out, out, brief candle.*"

"And you were there? Through all of this?" asked Aragorn softly.

"Yes." For a second her face went very still and then, without thinking, she continued to speak, "I have a reputation for fast and fearless; for obeying orders but also inventing on the spot when things go badly, but equally, I won't leave anyone behind if it can be helped. My name and certain actions of mine earned me a place in the councils that took place afterwards as we tried to clean up the mess. They said I had nerves of steel and was quicker than many twice my age."

"So that is how you got that scar?"

"Yes," she said, "I suppose that is the story."

"And I thought to start small," said the man with a shake of his head. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't mind - really I don't. There are worse people to tell and nastier places to do the telling." Fingering a small pebble before sending it flying away into the darkness with a flick of her wrist she asked, "And Moria sounds like it might be one of those places."

Aragorn glanced over and met the cool stare of the young woman. She was looking at him with a strangely understanding, faintly challenging look and he knew she had heard the conversation between him and Gandalf. Stumbling slightly over his words he said quietly, "I dread that place."

"Why?"

"A nameless terror hides there," he said, "and it is better left sleeping."

The wind seemed to be howling through the pine trees. In fact, thought Aiedale as she went to reply to the man, it sounded like hell hounds on the hunt. Aragorn was staring at her and she suddenly realized that she had gone very still as she strained to catch the rushing, howling wind so she could pin down the sound. Surely there were no hell hounds in this world?

"What is it?" asked the man. He was gripping her upper arm with bruising force for he had come to learn something about the young woman: when she went still, completely still, it was for a reason. He had yet to seen her be led astray by her strange senses that were as sensitive as a feather.

"The wind," she said turning to look at the man as her senses began to spark with adrenalin. "Do you hear the wind?"

The man went still and then he looked over at Legolas who, realized Aiedale, was also sitting very still and very straight as if trying to catch a sound on the wind. A faint howl, almost too faint for his human ears to catch, whistled through the camp and died away. The sound sent a chill through the man as he look over at the Shadowhunter, "That is not the wind." His words were hushed with worry, "Those are wargs…those are wargs on the hunt."

Gandalf, catching the panicked words, stood, "We are being hunted. We must seek the door south-west of Caradhras and hope we live to see the dawn!"

"A chase…" whispered Aiedale as she rose to her feet. "I always did like chases."

"This isn't a chase," said the Ranger as he moved to help the hobbits ready themselves for an immediate departure. "This is a hunt." He looked back to see that the Shadowhunter was openly smirking at him and she raised one finger as if she was lecturing him. For a moment everything fell still around them, the Ranger looking at the Shadowhunter.

"But that is even better, Ranger," she said. "For what is life without a little danger?" She refastened a buckle on her quiver and continued, "Without danger it is not anything at all and far from worth living!"

They journeyed as far as they could before they had to stop and choose a place for their defense. The Company climbed to the top of a small hill that was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a circle of broken boulders. In the midst of this they lit a fire, for there was no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovering by the howling war packs. The poor pony shivered and sweated where he stood. The howling of the wolves was now all around them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off.

Then the eyes started to appear.

Shining eyes that peered over the brow of the hill and advanced a little closer to the ring of stones until Aiedale could make out the hulking shapes of the wargs as they paced around the circle of light. At a gap in the circle a great dark wolf-shape halted and gazed at them. A shuddering howl broke from him, as if he were a captain summoning his troops for an assault.

Which, thought Aiedale, he really was.

Gandalf drew himself up and held his staff aloft, "Listen, Hound of Sauron!" he cried. 'Gandalf is here! Fly, if you value your foul skin!"

The wolf snarled and sprang towards them with a great, single leap. The movement was clearly a signal for, at that exact moment, three more shapes leapt forward and, in the flurry of the attack Aiedale found herself being pushed away from the tight circle and the protective blaze of the fire. As she came to the realization that this was not a good thing at all, she nearly missed the soft growl and rush of air as a warg pounced towards her, but some instinct saved her and she ducked, automatically crouching. However, as she did so and the warg leaped over her, the ground shifted suddenly beneath her feet and she lost balance only to tumble down the slope of the hill along with the growling creature.

Over and over she tumbled until she managed to use the downward momentum and vault herself into a fighter's crouch she had to bite back a curse as she realized that two wargs had closed in on her. One on each side and each of them were large and their eyes glittered with the vicious gleam of a predator closing in. Her bruised shoulder throbbed after the tumble she had taken and the only comfort came from the hilt of the knife her hand had closed around.

Inside she was berating herself for getting separated as she focused all her senses on her surroundings and her two foul-smelling opponents. With her perfect night vision she could see the long glittering teeth and the old scars that crisscrossed the creature's hides. They were, a small part of her decided, even uglier then hell hounds and that was saying something.

The warg to her left let out a long, low growl and that was all the warning she got before it lunged straight toward her. Its jaws were open wide and she waited for the last second before diving out of the way just as the other one to her right jumped. The two wargs collided in mid-leap, their jaws snapping shut on thin air. One knife, thrown as she leapt to the side, buried itself in the underside of the warg's neck and the creature fell to the ground, thrashing as it died. A lucky throw she had made without really looking and without really thinking it would hit anything important. The other retreated a few feet, suddenly more wary of the young woman.

The two looked at each other.

Shadowhunter and warg.

The two combatants felt a certain amount of grudging respect for each other as they faced off in small open space between the towering, whispering pines. The hunting howls of the wargs that had surrounded the small group of travelers had changed to ones of pain and fear, but none of that affected the two in their small bit of open space. There were flames springing from tree to tree, but for a brief moment the two had no attention for any of that.

Aiedale raised her knife and the warg growled, but neither of them moved. The bright yellow eyes of the beast fixed on Aiedale's cool green ones. But then…It was over a blur of motion. A quick flash of a knife, a howl of agony and then a thump as the heavy, dead body of the warg hit the ground. Aiedale yanked her other blade from the other dead creature before making her way back up the slope of the small hill.

The Fellowship seemed to have weathered the warg's assault with only a few minor cuts and bruises. It also appeared that Gandalf had gotten rather carried away in his pyrotechnics for the whole hill was burned and scorched. More than ten of the giant wolves were scattered around the hillside and she noticed that the largest had one of Legolas's arrows threw its neck. The elf's aim, honed by centuries, was never off its mark and his powerful bow had shot a true arrow. A bitter smoke curled above the burned tree-stumps and any remaining wargs did not seem eager to return. They would wait, bide their time, and strike another night.

"Aiedale," said the Ranger as he saw her appear over the hillside. She looked remarkably casual as if she had not just been fighting, but on an easy stroll through a garden. "Are you alright?" he demanded as he searched for any sign that she had been knocked down a hill and fought a warg single handed, but found no sign except for some dirt across her nose, and some leaves and small twigs in her hair which she was busy trying to pull out.

"Of course," she said as she gazed down at the dead body of the burned warg whose sightless eyes she could have sworn were following her. "This world is so messy," she said under her breath. "Why can't they just disappear? Any sensible demon does…"

With a disgusted sigh she moved on and began to assist with setting up a temporary camp. They were all too weary to continue on that night after the mountain and the small fight they had just been engaged in. As she helped spread out a bed roll, Sam said to her, "Miss Aiedale."

"What?" she asked as she deftly undid a cord and started on another which held the roll tightly closed. Her voice was crisp and clear as she focused on the task before her.

The hobbit flushed a little and fumbled his next words as if suddenly unsure he should have spoken to the intimidating girl he had known since Bree. The hesitation made her stop her task and look at him. "Do you ever…I mean that is…well, how can you just…" his voice seemed to fail him and Aiedale, in a gentle voice barely over a whisper, finished the sentence for him.

"Fight?" she asked. "Just go out and fight?"

"Yes," said the hobbit and she saw the remains of fear and adrenalin in his eyes even as he ducked his head, suddenly unable to meet her understanding gaze. She pitied him; she pitied him because he was so brave and so loyal. Those two admirable qualities – things she respected deeply – had driven him to this place, so far away from the life he loved and dreamed of, and it would drive him onwards as long as he could follow his dearest friend, Frodo. Sam continued on, "I can't do it. I can't just act like you or Boromir or Legolas or…"

She hushed him with one finger over his mouth, the bed roll forgotten in this moment of need. It was a movement so gentle and soft that the hobbit was startled and raised his gaze to look at her. Sam suddenly thought he had never seen her look so open with him, reachable and human. Maybe, he thought with a sudden realization, this is who is she on the inside and she just hides it. Maybe all I have to do is reach past this outside, this wall, and this is what I will find.

"You know Sam," she said with that faint, half-sad smile the hobbit was familiar with. "I have been doing this for years and so have the others. For someone who has never held a sword – who has fought a different kind of battle – you are doing very well." She squeezed one of his small hands, "I promise and, you want to know something?"

"What?"

"I screamed my first fight," she said with a shake of my head. "I cowered and could barely lift my weapon. You have done much better than I did."

"Really?" asked the hobbit as he tried to imagine this warrior ever cowering or screaming. The image would not stick.

"Yes," she said and she gave his hand another tight squeeze. "I admire you for your courage for coming, for doing what you are doing, Sam." Letting go of the hand she gestured at the bed roll, "Come. The night is fading fast and we all need whatever sleep we can get."

They were gone before the break of dawn.

Leaving behind the scene of their small battle, they traveled south-eastwards to where the mountain's sides fell sheer into the shadows at their feet. In the distance could be dimly seen a line of bare cliffs and, in their midst, taller than the rest, one great grey wall. It was not as far as Aiedale had feared – two short miles and it was well it was so short. The Company was being hunted and no one had any desire to risk another warg attack, especially if this one involved orcs and their backs against a mountain side. Even in the daylight they were not was no living thing around them, and not a bird was in the sky. The silence seemed unnatural and Aiedale wondered if it was trying to tell them something that, despite however hard she listened, she could not quite understand.

Gimli now walked ahead by the wizard's side, so eager was he to come to Moria and the warm welcome he hoped to find in the mountain. The rest of the Company, however, was feeling their sore and weary feet when at last they came to rough and winding track which led them towards the Gates. Legolas, once so light and quick on his feet, now trailed behind as if by walking slower and heavier he could somehow delay the inevitable arrival. At length they came to sharp bend and, rounding the corner, they saw before them a low cliff, with a broken and jagged top. Over it tricked a small waterfall which flowed out in a small stream down the narrow valley. A carved stair had been chiseled out of the mountainside which Gandalf called 'Stair Falls.'

Gimli sprang up these narrow steps, followed by the wearier and more reluctant others. At the top of the stairs they found a dark, still lake. Neither sky nor the slowly sinking sun was reflected on its sullen, almost angry surface. Beyond the ominous water reared vast cliffs, their stern faces worn by the elements. No sign of a gate or entrance, could Aiedale see and she was beginning to feel rather annoyed with the wizard for dragging them all this way.

It was here that they had to say farewell to Bill and the poor pony's departure into the Wild nearly broken Sam's heart. Even though Gandalf laid a blessing upon their faithful little pony and told him to seek out Rivendell, the poor hobbit would not be consoled. Aiedale was of the opinion, though she did not voice it, that the pony had a better chance than the rest of them did at surviving. As they continued on the poor hobbit did his best to restrain his sniffles, but Aiedale could still hear them as they made their way around the lake.

At last they came to the most northern side of it where they found a strip of dry land between the lake and the cliffs: narrow and dotted with fallen rock and stones. A few more minutes of walking brought them to an old thicket of trees of which two tall ones remained, healthy and strong. They were the holly trees that Gandalf had spoken of that had been planted by elves in fairer days and their giant roots spread from the cliff like walls to the water.

Gandalf smiled a little to behold them and said, "These trees were planted in happier times when there was friendship between Dwarves and Elves."

"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned," said Gimli with a dark scowl on his face.

"I have heard that it was not the fault of the Elves," said Legolas with a dark expression upon his softly glowing, ageless face that he directed towards the dwarf. The two were unable to resist the opportunity to raise the old argument and it made the Shadowhunter think back, with some amusement, to the arguments between werewolves and vampires – never ending and tedious to have to endure for any length of time.

"I have heard both," said the wizard with a quick, stern look back at them. "But let us not speak of that now! Night is at hand and we must make haste." Gandalf turned away from them and gazed at the blank wall of the cliff, Gimli was wandering about, tapping the stone here and there while the others swiftly rearranged their supplies. Aiedale had no need to do any of that, however, for all she had brought was all that she could carry easily and she was fascinated by the dark, still water. She watched it as if, by looking at it hard enough, she could find out what it concealed and why it made her so nervous.

It reminded her a little of the Lake in Alicante - the one from which the Angel had risen and first blessed Jonathan Shadowhunter. Both the lakes were like mirrors, reflective and of relatively the same size. However the lake in Alicante was not dark or cruel unless one drank from it and then one deserved what one got for being such an idiot. This lake, she felt, was dark and cruel with strange ripples that occasionally broke across the surface and spread out towards their small party. Even if she had to climb the steep jagged cliff faces, she would do whatever it took not to touch that water. Any time a rock shifted beneath a foot and landed in the water she would wince and half-expect something, anything, to leap from the lake.

"This is it," suddenly announced Gandalf with a pleased smile. The Shadowhunter did not turn to look at him, her gaze fixed on the water and she suddenly realized that Aragorn had come to stand with her and was looking out across it as if he felt the same way.

Pippen, ever questioning, was the one who asked the obvious question that was on the tip of Aiedale's tongue. "What is it?" he asked as he looked up the vertical cliff face.

But the moon suddenly rose from behind them and cast its cool light upon the grey face of the rock. Slowly, from where the wizard's hands rested faint lines appeared, like slender veins of silver running through the stone. At first they were no more than pale gossamer threads, so fine that they only twinkled, but they steadily grew broader and clearer.

Even Aiedale was impressed. She had never seen anything quite like it before and it was striking. A door, tall and magnificent, stood before them outlined all in silver with interlacing letters in an Elvish character. However she quickly lost any interest as it turned out they could not actually open the door or, rather, Gandalf could not actually open the door. Resigning herself to what could be a long wait and an increasingly irritable wizard she sat down on a large flat rock close to one of the trees and studied the water.

"I do not trust it," said a low voice beside her and she turned to see Legolas, one hand gently gripping a branch, looking out at the water. "There is something foul about it."

"There is something foul about this place in general," said Aiedale in an equally low voice. She half-heartedly wondered if they would be able to climb any of the cliffs around them should the need arise. Or, even more interesting, what would happen if she found a way to remove the dam that prevented this water from flowing out as it should. What secrets would be revealed then?

"I fear it," said the elf in a rare display of open emotion. His bright blue eyes, so deep and clear, shone with fear and worry. "Elves are not meant for such dark places as this mine."

"Showhunters go where there is evil and often that evil is in dark places." Aiedale ran a hand over the smooth stone of the rock. "But I wish our path did not lead this way for I have learned not to invite unknown trouble. I would rather fight in the open then in ground."

The elf sighed heavily and rubbed his hand across the smooth bark of the holly tree. "We shall have to hope," he said at last, "and be ready for whatever may come our way.

To that Aiedale could only nod and silence fell between them once more as both turned to watch the water with eyes that were not troubled by the dark gloom that settled over water. Aragorn joined them a little while later and the hobbits sat not far off, murmuring among themselves while Boromir quietly polished his shield. Gimli was the only one who didn't appear at all put out by the gloom and the quickly growing worry about what they would do if they couldn't get into the mountain. He was happily watching the door and the wizard who stood before it muttering about 'friend' and 'honor' and 'old accords between…'

At some point during the wait, Pippen rose from his place beside Merry and wandered over to the Lake. Aiedale's eyes tracked his every move as she wondered, with detachment, if he touched the water what would happen to him if he did. Part of her, the part that found his questions insufferably annoying, wanted to throttle Pippen for his careless, stupid action of even going near the water. She was sure something would leap out (half hoping it would and save them from the hobbit's curiosity) and she was quite prepared to deal with whatever it might be, but the hobbit merely skipped one or two stones and then Aragorn told him to stop. Aiedale watched the ripples from where the stones had touched the water widen from their original impact. Her eyes caught another ripple, further out, and then another. Something was moving beneath the water and pretending it wasn't.

Maybe, she thought darkly, the hobbit would still end up as bait for whatever creature lurked beneath that dark water. Maybe they all would.

Beside her the elf stiffened as he caught sight of the mysteries eddies and ripples. In a whispered hiss he said, "We need to move."

"Where would we go?" she hissed. "The cliffs are too steep for the hobbits and the bloody door won't open. I could kill whatever dwarf made it so difficult to get in."

Legolas muttered something in elvish that sounded rather like a curse. At any other time she might have found it funny that he was cursing, but not that moment. Cursing, in fact, seemed like a great way of venting frustration, worry and senses that were practically on fire with warning.

She glanced over at the wizard and saw that Frodo was standing beside him and saying something about "friend" and what it meant in elvish. Turning her attention back to the water she drew out her bow and set an arrow to the string. Beside her, his fair face set in a cold frown, the elf copied her action and they both moved down, closer to the water and the door. Aragorn was not far behind them and Boromir had risen to, his weapons loosened just in case a need should arise.

A sudden creaking and snapping, the sounds of rock moving against rock, rose from the direction of the door and Aiedale saw that, somehow, Gandalf had managed to get the thing to open. Aragorn and Boromir, wasting no more precious time, hurried the hobbits toward it and, coming behind, Legolas and Aiedale kept their bows firmly trained on the slowly rippling water.

The inside of the mine was dark. As dark a tomb and, from personal experience, Aiedale knew exactly how dark a tomb really was. It was the kind of dark that felt suffocating and so heavy that it felt like a blanket had been thrown over the world. Glancing around, the Shadowhunter could barely make out two feet in front of her and, what she did see made her loose a quiet curse so savage that it made Merry and Pippen jump.

A skeleton.

A skeleton with more than one arrow sticking out of it as if whoever had shot it had not been worried about running out before they defeated all their opponents. Whatever had happened in this place had been more than just a small fight and more than a small battle, but something more like an all-out massacre. Her eyes searched the darkness, but she could just make out her companions and nothing more. What story lay behind this? What had happened and why had it occurred?

Her instinct was to get out. To get back outside and out of such a dark, suffocating place where anything could leap at her. To get her witchlight out would mean lowering her bow and there was no way she would lower her weapon in this place. From Boromir's anxious words and Legolas's curse, she was not the only one who would rather risk the water then a mine filled with the dead and those that had killed them. Gimli was cursing and crying out in anguish, but she did not think of the dwarf now. All her instincts were screaming at her run – to leave as soon as she could and risk the wargs.

Get out! Get out before you can't!

Her instincts, never wrong, were telling her that if she stayed she might not get out. She needed to leave and quickly before this dark mine became her own tomb. As she turned, arrow knocked and senses on high-alert, she heard a sudden cry and saw, to her horror, Fordo being lifted by a giant…

Was that a tentacle?

"Frodo!" cried more than one voice as the hobbit was dragged by the tentacle towards the water and, surely, death.

Not if she could help it. By the Angel! She had sworn to protect him and she wasn't going to see him dead at and the Ring lost just because of some slimy squid that was clearly not smart enough to realize how foolish it was to make her angry.

Without thinking she loosed her arrow towards the place where the tentacle seemed to be coming from. The once still water seemed to be almost boiling now with movement and she could see more than one shiny tentacle stretching out towards them. One of Legolas's and another of her own arrows found their way into the water and then, suddenly, the thing rose enough from the water for Aiedale to see its glistening mouth and numerous pale eyes. Her arrows flew faster and the thing, disliking the pain, flung Frodo away. The hobbit landed in Boromir's arms and the man swiftly ran back into the mine (she wouldn't say it was any safer) while Aragorn, his sword out, hacked at any tentacle that came near.

The squid-octopus-whatever-it-was, in its fury at the pain they had caused it, grabbed the sides of the door and wrenched them forward. Aiedale was barely aware of Aragorn grabbing her arm and yanking her backwards and stone rained down, filling the air with the sounds of crashing rocks. She felt dust rain down on her and, in her hurry to get away from the tumbling stones, the young woman nearly fell over one of the dust covered, armored skeletons.

They were trapped.

And, somehow, she quite certain that despite all her skills and all her courage they might not all make it out.

Hanane El Mokkadem: Thank you! glad you liked it and I am sure she will find a way to even the score between her and Legolas. Maybe she will just out-shoot him ;)

Ray: Oh wow! Here is your new chapter - that is a lot of reading! Thank you for reviewing! and hope you enjoy! Sorry it took me longer...but I hope this makes up for it.

Shadow Phoenix: Sorry about that - fixed it and hope you like this chapter!