My eyes never leave the spot where I watched my daughter disappear. My fingernails claw in my arms anxiously - what have I done?

"Your majesty," RIsta warns, her hand clamping around my arm as she begins to push me forward, "we must reach the trees, and-."

A whistle of movement to my left startles me, and with a gasp I am flung hard on the ground. Scrambling to find my feet, I twist myself onto my back and search urgently for my guard. Thankfully she is crouched a few feet from me, her eyes dark and scathing as she glares into the strong wind, and that is when I notice the slice across her upper arm from a brush with an arrow. Tauriel is at my side in a moment and she quickly helps me to my feet, but her body quivers in fear as she tries gallantly to hide it from me and shield me from whatever hunts us.

"Rista?" Tauriel murmurs, her hands trembling as she clutches her drawn bow. "What is it? What is out there?"

"Maggots," she sighs and draws herself upright. "Get the Queen to the safety of the trees and find somewhere to hide, but do not engage them Tauriel, not unless you are both found."

"And what of you?" I hear myself ask in alarm, as the shrieks of something animalistic make their way to my ears.

"I can slow them down," Rista hisses threateningly, a sneer curling her lip, "I have a grudge with Sauron's swine...now go!"

Before I can argue I am pulled frantically into a sprint, and forced towards the thick and densely overgrown fir trees.

I hear the sickly sound of steel through flesh before I can even reach the blanket of the thick mist clinging to the trees. 

At the sound tears stream freely from my eyes.

Rista...the name resounds despairingly in my head as I force my feet to fly, my eyes trained ahead and my ears on the sound of the young elleth at my heels.

I dare a glance her direction and note her own drained expression, the same grieving in her pale features as my own, but there is also an innocence that I am drawn to protect. She should not be made to risk her life for me, it should be the other way around...I promised her Naneth as much. With a firm resoluteness I push my own terror down into myself and stride out long and sure, forcing myself faster and willing the red headed child to follow my lead, to find assurance in my courage at least.

We reach the depths of the fir wood, and Tauriel searches out the most dense clustering of the dark trees for us to climb. They are not the easiest or most comfortable trees to scale but needs must, and their thick, bushy, branches, offer a great deal of coverage from unwanted eyes.

We move as swiftly and as quietly as we can, each of us settling a few branches apart but still within visual of one another. Tauriel instinctively draws her bow again, and I reach for mine, although I feel more confident with a knife...I don't often trust my aim.

It does not take long for a swarm of orc Shaman to invade the earth below; dangerous brutes that have more instinct and power with dark arts than regular infantry orc. The last time I encountered one of these swine was the fateful day I decided to attempt to heroically save my father-in-law...oh Eru...Thranduil does have a point about me being a magnet for trouble.

I scowl upwards as I knock my head against the tree trunk, silently wishing I knew how to rectify this. I seek out the daylight above and utter a silent prayer, but the moment it leaves my lips my acute hearing picks up the high-pitched gasp. Snapping my head to the side it takes all my energy not to cry out.

"Tauriel," I barely mouth her name above a whisper, watching the gloved arm restraining her chest and the glint of a knife against her throat.

Her eyes are wide with fright as she viciously shakes her head for me not to move, but it is too late...how did they know to look to the trees? Who is this monster?

In a flash of movement I draw my bowstring taut and glare threateningly at the cloaked and hooded figure that holds the terrified elleth in his arms, a young elf who is as close to me as family, and my wrath swells.

I do not fear them!

"Surrender yourself and we will not harm the girl," the hoarse voice spits and I grit my teeth in defiance. The assassin gives a guttural chuckle and the blade pushes threatening into the exposed flesh of her neck, Tauriel cuts off a whimper as she squeezes her eyes tight shut.

In a moment I see Ferel, blood soaked and dying on stone floor, and her breathy voice drawing a promise from me to watch over her little daughter. My heart stutters as I immediately lower my bow and throw out my hand to still the dark figure.

"Let her go," I hiss, "do not harm the child she is innocent!"

"Then surrender to us," the dark servant pushes, and as Tauriel tries to find her voice to plead me not to pick her life over mine the monster strangles her off with an arm encircling her throat; "Now...do it not now or I snap her neck!"

"Fine!" I cry in alarm, " just let her go."

Again, the creature lets out the same throaty gurgle of a laugh, a sound that makes my blood turn to ice and my mind to quickly calculate the horrific mistake I have made.

In a heartbeat he spins Tauriel to face away from him, grasping her by the shoulders he pushes her away from him. The scream that I give is only an echo of the horror in her young eyes as she falls back from his rough hands, and plummets soundlessly in her shock to the earth.

"No! You promised to spare her!" I cry as I rip my knife from its sheath and slash at his chest when he leaps the short distance between us in the branches with all the agility of an elf.

He lets out a grunt as my blade slices a bloody line there, and in the next beat I dance across the nearest branch and over his head, catching him square across the jaw with my foot. The motion renders him unbalanced and he slips, and I don't waste another second waiting to see if he rectifies himself or not.

Dropping down the branches I fire an arrow in an opposite direction which confuses the already scattered orc pack, before dropping into the dense fern covered undergrowth. Running in the direction I saw her fall, and keeping myself low and close to the ground, I eventually stumble over her curled body in the mercifully cushioned undergrowth.

"Tauriel," I murmur as quietly as my urgency allows, swiftly checking her for damage. "Tauriel, darlin'. can you hear me?"

"Mmmnph," she groans softly into her forearm and I practically wilt with relief.

"You need to tell me does anything hurt?" I ask as I press along her spine, and pry her eyes open to check. "Is anything numb, or tingling, can you turn your neck?"

"Everything hurts," she hisses as she rolls slowly to face me, her face scrunched in pain as she does. I give a hard laugh and nod in agreement - I am sure it does.

"We don't have much time to patch up I'm afraid," I tell her with an apologetic grimace, "but I am just eternally thankful to Eru for sparing you, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Tauriel attempts not to laugh to save her pain, as she struggles onto her hands and knees, glancing worriedly at me she relays her command. "You cannot stay out here your majesty, we must hide."

"Yes," I agree quietly, "but climbing the trees is out of the question." I glance around the terrain, seeking out some kind of abandoned thicket or hallow trunk that I could drag her into. There is nothing big enough for the two of us, save the hallowed roots of an old tree a few feet ahead but at the most it would only hold one of us.

"You still have your legs," Tauriel gasps in short laboured breaths, "I am only going to slow you down." Stubbornly she hauls herself towards the root of the tree I had spied, and hastily I follow her shaking my head vehemently at her suggestion.

"No, no I will get you home safe and sound," I affirm with a jerky bob, but my ears have already heard the heavy sound of footfalls approaching us.

"My lady, you cannot save all of us," Tauriel mews softly, "and, I am a lot tougher than I appear."

"Oh, I do not doubt it," I cluck in warning as I help her to the tree, and let her slide into the tight space. "Tauriel, I will not leave you to die."

"You must leave me behind," she urges as she takes out one of her daggers and holds them close to her chest. "I am not going to die, I can stay hidden long enough until help comes, but you have to go before they pick up your trail."

"Tauriel?"

"Go, my queen, you must go! Think of your children...you must stay alive for them."

I stagger back from the free, her earnest and anchoring words reminding that my son is out in the woods too, probably not too far from here. I can make this on my own, it is harder to catch just one loan needle in a haystack. I look away in the direction I sent Legolas, and then toward home, calculating which route would be the safest or the fastest.

"I will get help to you Tauriel, you just hold on for me sweetheart," I find myself consoling the young warrior, and she nods in resolute understanding.

"I can hold on," she promises and with one sharp look between us, I take off into the woods at a startling rate.

I can make this alone. I am prepared enough for this.

xXx

The sickly hiss and thud of an arrow embedding in the chest of the approaching orc sends a tingling thrill through my bones. It is not that I enjoy taking a life, or that I love the thrill of combat, but every monster I cut down is one less to worry about.

My months of intense practise with Legolas are paying off now, but thankfully I have had nothing more than a mere orc or goblin to scrap with, and usually I can take them out from a distance. I try to remember what my son taught me during our make believe lessons.

One...don't leave an obvious trail of kills, it is too easy to track.

Two...never let your guard down, and always keep every sense alert.

Three...when running use the terrain to your advantage; mud, trees, and water confuse the scent.

Four...attack with speed, do not get caught in a lengthy brawl, it eats up valuable time and energy.

Five...leave a message for friendlies to follow if you get into trouble.

As of yet I don't feel safe enough to leave a message that my pursuers wouldn't follow, and quite frankly I do not know if that assassin is still alive and trailing me? If Tauriel survived the fall then there is every chance he did, and somehow I think a trained hunter would be much smarter than a bunch of scatter-brained orc.

So far I've evaded being seen, and the only thing that keeps me ploughing forward is the thought of the safety of my children. The very thought causes an anguished huff to rise up my throat, for I honestly do not know if I saved or hindered my daughter, but I still feel her spirit thrum within mine and that is the only thing that brings me some semblance of calm.

I don't have time to consider my thoughts as the yowl of approaching orcs sends me down another route.

I take a sharp right and head through a muddy shuck, the overgrown brambles and small trees make it harder to follow, and my light elven feet dance over the gloopy earth easier than my unsavoury pursuers.

Unfortunately not all of them fall foul to my plan, and one slides down the bank and slams into my side knocking me sideways.

Ripping my long knife from its sheath, I push up from the slippery ground and roll just in time to miss an ill-timed punch.

I lurch to my feet and swing the knife to my side, slamming it into the orcs chest, and letting out a sigh of relief as it drops to the ground with a shocked gargle. Ripping out my blade I take off again, but I don't get far for his friends have blocked my way.

I clench my jaw tightly, grinding my teeth as I take a threatening stance. The two gangly looking creatures slobber and yowl in impatience, the first lunging at me in his thirst for victory, but I side step him and let him slip-slide into the nearest sharp rock effectively knocking himself out. The other I do not wait for him to attack, I slice forward and he catches my blade, we struggle for a few moments but I drive an arrow tip in his foot before ramming my elbow between his eyes.

Panting, I sheath my knife and wipe the mud from my face before looking urgently to the slight incline. Taking a running jump, I bounce up the rock and struggle back to drier ground...and face-to-face with a much larger foe.

Wonderful!

The cursed black speech spell is the first thing my ears hear, and I let out a disgusted snarl as the words coarse through my spirit and burn into my mind. The moment's disorientation leaves me scrambling for my weapons, and it is just a moment too long as thick hands wrap around my hair and haul me from the ground.

"Elf-wench!" The dark orc spits, his eyes black and swimming with evil magic. "You cannot run from the shadow."

I do not answer him, I just spit in his face, and for that I receive a harsh slap across the jaw. In retaliation I lift my knees and stick them harshly into his groin were the armour is weak. He lets out a guttural moan and drops me.

Free from his grasp I crawl forward and draw my blade. Staggering, I engage the dark creature, swallowing a fearful lump in my throat as he hulks over me. These orc shaman are not like ordinary orc, they are man-sized and cunning; this one wears animals skins and bone charms around his neck, likely the bones of his victims.

He gives a brutal laugh and draws a thick broad sword, a weapon that dwarfs mine in comparison. He swings it with ease and it is all I can do to dive sideways to avoid it.

I scramble behind trees and leap from his blows, because it is about all I can do. I cannot fight him with strength, he'd overpower me in a minute, but I can tire him out and maybe then he'll make a fatal error.

With a roar of impatience at my flitting and diving from his grasp, he lurches straight for me and I sneer at his mistake. I spring for him as he moves for me, and using his shoulder as a footing I clear his reach but not before embedding my knife in his neck.

Rolling to a halt I quickly stand and turn to face him, not trusting this brute to die so easily.

As predicted he cries in alarm and fury as he spins and stampedes for me, but his footing is clumsy and he falls, catching and taking me with him.

I let a yelp as we both collide to the forest floor, his weight almost unbearable on top of me. He wrestles for my throat, but I hold him back, reaching for his neck to free my knife and finish the job. His clawed hands scrape at my chest and the fabric of my vest rips, my necklace spilling free just as he wraps his dirty paws around the shimmering gems.

That is when he screams in agony, in a sound so filled with pain and fear that it momentarily stills my struggling.

The beast scrambles from me, the smell of burning flesh filling my sensitive nose, and I note his palms are scorched from were he grabbed the gems.

I don't waste time pondering the reasons behind this, as I find my feet again, only to feel the coldness of steel at my throat.

"You were supposed to surrender, your majesty," the voice hisses in my ears and suddenly my mind unravels at the sound...I have heard that voice before?

The cloaked and hooded figure spins me to look at him, but with his other hand he keeps the blade tight to my throat so I do not get any bright ideas. My breathing is laboured as my mind reels over his voice, over the treachery of this moment, and of the hatred that burns in my blood. I cannot even find my voice to acknowledge this vile excuse for an assassin.

"What beautiful jewels," he purrs, his knife sliding over my throat and catching the chain of the gems. "A witch's jewels, laced with enchantments of protection for the royal bearer...did you know that Clara?"

"You were banished," I hiss and scowl furiously at the shadowed face behind the cloak. "Cursed by your own people...you should not have returned, Galour."

"And whose fault is that?" He growls and shoves his face into mine, his thumb digging into my throat so I struggle to draw breath properly. He rips his hood back and I cannot help how I recoil in horror, for it is no longer an elf before me...but a true monster.

In place of the healthy elf lord who ran the King's trade and held a prestigious place among the Sindar nobles, stands a swallowed and scarred creature of darkness. His skin is mottled, his eyes no longer blue but dark and soulless, and his right cheek and neck are heavily tattooed in black runes...a forbidden language...he has been corrupted!

"What do you want?" I manage to hiss as I wrestle with his restrictive grip. "Revenge? To kill me? Because I would much rather you got it over with than boring me to death."

He chuckles sinisterly as he runs the sharp edge of the knife across my cheek tauntingly, his grip moving from my neck to cup my face uncomfortably. I shudder as he leans into me, smelling my hair, and drawing his nose across my ear. His whisper is like poison and I yank my head away from him but he holds me stubbornly in place.

"Revenge?" he snickers, "by killing you...what a petty notion." He breathes in steadily and I can almost hear the threat there. "No Clara, killing you now would be a waste of a show."

"What do you mean?" I ask, anxiety seeping into my voice.

"To take a Kingdom," he purrs evilly, his knife catching on the chain of my gems, "you must first..." he continues slowly as he cuts the metal and lets the gems fall to the ground, his boot smashing them into the earth...

..."destroy a King."

***********************

A/N:  OH NO OHNOOHNOOHNO.....trouble ensues...*covers eyes*

What did you think?  Are you surprised to see the return of the weasel? Ahhh I'm so excited...what do you guys think? Lemme know, and please VOTE if you enjoyed the story.

PS:  For those of you who read TLA: I'm Her Hands - I have posted recent chapters concerning Thranduil and Bregeth's relationship.  I believe it's quite a deep and serious message that men are equally susceptible to abuse too.  So if that interests you guys I'd be fascinated to hear your thoughts?

Until next time...love ya! xo