Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well. Firstly, THANK YOU FOR OVER 1K VIEWS!!! *ahem* *composes oneself* Secondly, after some debate (and when I say some I mean within a minute after publishing the last part), this part is going to be shorter than the last. Thank you again to WillSpearsShake for requesting this! If any of you would like to make a request, please leave it in the comments. Thank you, and enjoy! Xx

- ♛ 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔 ♛

A hand rose from the splinters and ashes, blackened and burnt. Ripples of red that swam up and around his arm and clung to his shoulders. He slammed his palms to the ground, clawing at the earth. He slowly emerged from the depths of the earth, a face marred with blood and burns. He breathed in the swell of smoke, and a roar tore through his throat. His jaws opened to release the agonising cry, as crimson dripped from his lips. He clawed at the earth again, drawing his crippled body out from the soil. 

He thought he would die that day. The inferno had turned on him, capturing him in a ring of a fire, pulling at every limb and muscle on him. Tearing his skin from his bones, pulling his head from his skull. He had screamed- he thought someone had heard. No one aided him as he was grinded to ash. Now, that he was living- barely flesh and bone, but still living- he would have the head of anyone who passed his burning house without a second thought. He had given these people a home, a life! They should have aided their master when he was searing, not walk away from him.

He roared again, through the smoke and the mist. He tried to prop his leg up, finding he didn't have a foot. He dared to looked down at the sight, and screeched at the heavens. What monster would do this?! What creature would be so heartless? 

The village girls soon approached, and shrieked in horror at the sight of their master. He demanded them, in a gravelly tone, to heal him. The girls stumbled away, screaming into their hands and calling for their mothers. They could not bare the sight of an almost dead man. When their mothers came, they too stared in horror. As the man's agony twisted through his body, his demands became more frequent. With a seething temper, he called for them all to take him to be healed.

The woman who he was greeted with, Corinna, tended to each burn with a scowl on her face. With each grimace, his patience dwindled. When he barked to finally get out what was wrong, Corinna swung her palm against the burnt side of his face. He couldn't even scold her for her audacity, for the woman had already detailed what was wrong. Her daughter had left that evening, without a word, without a note. After the man pressed her, the healer revealed that her daughter had left only two things.

A doused torch, and a fire-striker. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The three remaining members of the fellowship stumbled over the plains of Rohan. Over days and nights, they had ran through thick and thin, desperate to find their lost friends, Merry and Pippin. Sam and Frodo had left long ago, to venture to Mordor alone. (Y/N) trailed behind, a little ahead from Gimli, but far behind Legolas and Aragorn. She wasn't used to hiking- Gandalf had taken her everywhere on his cart. The journey to Moria had been hard enough- but on the plains of Rohan? Why, she hadn't ventured that far in years...

"Keep up, you two!" the elf cried. The woman grumbled.

"That's easy for you to say! Not all of us are as agile as you."

"Less talking, more walking!"

"Oh, come on, Legolas! You too Aragorn, just slow down a little!"

"Listen to the wise words of the lass!" Gimli screamed from yards away. Legolas only smirked and carried on. (Y/N) huffed at his reaction and picked up the pace, trying to reach him. As she darted, her feet scraped against the jagged edges and the skittered over the uneven ground. It was not a surprise when she slammed down to the floor. Aragorn cackled in the distance, whilst Gimli huffed in amusement- she could only assume Legolas was smiling. As usual. As (Y/N) shifted her hands down, a sharp pain struck the side of her head.

He rode upon the back of a chestnut brown stallion. He grappled the reigns with a rough hand. Even as the horse whinnied in exhaustion, he did not relent. The red light of the setting sun drowned him. The crimson hue made it appear he was dripping in blood. In reality, his crippled and seared body was far worst. He looked on to Rohan with nothing but a smile.

"Wait! Wait! Stop!" (Y/N) screeched through gulps of air. Legolas, being the closer to her, stopped and came to her side. 

"What's the matter, (Y/N)?" 

"A vision...another vision..."

"Aragorn! Gimli! Come," the elf cried. When the other two had joined them, the woman struggled to her feet. 

"I don't...I don't know who it was. I saw a man on a horse, riding. The sky drowned him in red...he looked like he was covered in blood. But...there was something far worst about him. He was heading to Rohan..."

"Don't you recognise him?"

"I didn't recognise Borimir in the first vision I had! But I see them, and I...then I don't know who they are. I can't explain it..."

"Well, do you have a guess?"

"No. That is, unless Rohan is to be haunted by a ghost." The men exchanged puzzled looks, but chose not to question it. They merely assumed she was delirious, and helped the woman up.

"It lacks any sense of danger. Why would you have such a vision?" Legolas said thoughtfully.

"I think the danger of it is yet to come," she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her torso. She glanced over at the other three, a disconsolate look upon her face, before moving forward.

Her visions had sometimes scared her. These things that had come from an outside force that was pushing images through her skull, day after day of flashes of darkness. When she first developed the ability, she would have these visions several times per day. Some were weaker and not believable enough. Others tore through her head like a dagger, and wrenched her body up like a puppet, forcing her forward to do its bidding.

As the years went on, her powers became more manageable. She tamed them, somewhat. There was a part of her life where those flashes controlled her; now she controlled them.

After many more hours of searching, the group came across the riders of Rohan, who first aimed their spears down at them. When they relented, Aragorn enquired after Merry and Pippin, the hobbits whom had been lost to the orcs days ago. Éomer, nephew to the king, spoke with a heavy heart. But he encouraged them to not loose hope, and offered two horses in return.

"Sir Éomer," (Y/N) said, as the man reached for his horse. "Would you perhaps know of my father and brother? Sir Galahad and Sir Ryan?"
"Galahad...he is still in Rohan. As for Ryan, well. He left to bring you and your mother to Rohan years ago. We have not seen him since." He offered a sincere yet sad smile. "If you do not find you friends, travel to my uncle's halls. You will find your father there, by side of my king." 

She nodded at his words, but refused to smile. These past few days had been quite an ordeal- she couldn't lift the corners of her mouth even if she was certain of her father's whereabouts. The riders of Rohan left with them two horses, before they rode off into the distance. Legolas mourned the white stallion as it whinnied at the wind. (Y/N) sat behind him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. Gimli grumbled, as he took a seat behind Aragorn on the brown horse.

"Come on. The hobbits could be there!"

They were not. Amongst the burnt ashes, there was no sign of the hobbits. They searched for several moments, before Gimli fished something from the burning pile- one of their small belts. Aragorn screamed at the sky. The elf could no longer look at the bodies. Gimli could hardly suppress a sob. (Y/N) tried to stop her own tears from falling. She had failed them- had she used her head in those moments, instead of believing the lies that were forced onto her, maybe they'd be here. 

"A hobbit lay here...and another."

(Y/N) looked down to Aragorn, whose hands felt through the shreds of grass. The shards of grass lay flat upon the ground- the space could fit two large children. 

"They crawled..."

Merry urged Pippin to hurry. They were caught in a slaughter, hands bound with rope.

"Their hands were bound...their bonds were cut!" Aragorn picked up a two small lengths of rope from the floor.

Ridding their hands of the rope, the two scuttled through the ins and outs of Rohan riders and the orcs of Mordor. Horses thrashed side to side, blood spewed from every angle. They had almost reached salvation when

(Y/N) gripped the side of her head as she followed. The vision became blurred, before refocusing.

"The tracks lead away from the battle..."

a̶n̶ ̶o̶r̶c̶ ̶a̶p̶p̶r̶o̶a̶c̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶,̶ ̶d̶a̶g̶g̶e̶r̶ ̶r̶a̶i̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶t̶e̶r̶

"Into Fangorn Forest."

(Y/N) wrenched herself- the vision wasn't true. They hadn't met their ends in this battle. 

when a horse slid before them. Though slightly frazzled, the two jumped round it, and stumbled into the forest.

(Y/N) breathed in a new breath of air, and smiled. "They're alive..."

"Fangorn? What madness drove them in there?"

An limping orc followed them with an appetite for halfling blood.

"An orc was chasing them," she said. The three men turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Visions, remember?"

"How are you so sure? The last one, with Borimir..."

"My visions are usually much more painful. There's a grain of truth in this one, I'm sure of it. Merry and Pippin are in Fangorn, I can just...feel it."

Her feet found themselves gliding over the sodden ground, as she moved passed the trees. The fellowship followed nimbly after her, weapons raised. For many hours, they crept between the bushes and the brambles, searching for the two missing hobbits. Though hope was in their hearts, it felt like with every step that Merry and Pippin were further away.

(Y/N) looked back to the others. Gimli placed his black coated finger into his mouth and spat. "Orc blood!" The woman cringed.

"These...these are strange tracks." The woman turned again, finding Aragorn fingering a large print in the ground. She couldn't make out what sort of creature would make such a print. It was as large as warg's, yet the shape was ineffable. 

"This forest...is old. Very old," Legolas murmured, glancing at the twining branches that arched over them. "Full of memory...and anger." His eyes met with (Y/N)'s. "Can you not feel it?"

The trunks creaked, the bark creasing at the base of the trees. Gimli clutched tighter at his axe, and raised it, as if to attack.

"The trees are speaking to each other."

"Gimli!" (Y/N) growled, indicating him to lower his weapon.

"Huh?"

"Lower your bloody axe!"

"Oh..." the dwarf said, with a forlorn look on his face.

"Aragorn!" Legolas had glided off into the distance. He spoke in his native tongue to his friend. "Something is out there!"

Isildur's heir came to the elf's side. "What do you see?"

"The White Wizard approaches."

It was then, she felt it. Something powerful stepping their way, finding their way through the forest, searching for them. The creature had already found Merry and Pippin- (Y/N) was sure of it. They had been here, and now they were not. Finding her place beside Legolas, her hand slid around the hilt of her blade. Gimli joined them, a snarl upon his face.

"Don't let him speak. He will put a spell on us."

Legolas nocked an arrow on his bow, and Aragorn tensed his fingers over the pommel of his sword.

"We must be quick."

They then sprang to attack. Each attempt, however, was deflected. (Y/N)'s blade became hot to the touch, and she dropped it in an instant. Aragorn dropped his own weapon. Legolas missed his shot. Gimli's axe was sent spiralling back. A blinding white light consumed their vision.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a voice cried.

"Where are they?!" (Y/N) screamed.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

As sudden as Aragorn's cry, the white light became bearable to look upon. White robes, a long white beard, hair of silver, and a pair of whimsey eyes. The smile that was bourn was not one of a monster or a killer- no, it was not Saruman.

"Gandalf?!" the woman gasped, tears immediately falling down her cheeks.

"It cannot be. You fell."

"Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until, at last, I threw my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth...but it was not  the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf?" Aragorn questioned. The wizard looked upon Isildur's heir with both confusion and fondness.

"Gandalf? Yes...that's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name. I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

The wizard approached the muddy path, before halting. He turned to the woman that he had cared for all those years. A kind smile fell over his lips, and he reached to grasp her shoulder. (Y/N) couldn't speak, but nor could cry anymore. Wiping her cheeks, she indicated for the wizard to go first. He nodded, and stumbled through the forest. Though she was grief-stricken, she couldn't hold the fellowship back now. There were bigger things than her personal feelings.

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins! War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

Reaching the edge of the forest, Gandalf shaped his lips into an 'o', and whistled against the call of the wind. The melody echoed through their ears, ringing over the hills of Rohan. Then, he came.

Shadowfax.

The gleaming white horse that galloped far and wide to reach Mithrandir. They all mounted their horses, (Y/N) behind Legolas, Gimli behind Aragorn. Soon, the stallions were trotting over the wide plains. (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes of Gandalf, her mouth wide open in shock.

He had fallen. Now he rode by her side, as if nothing had happened. It had only been a week or so- she hadn't had time to breathe, let alone grieve! Now, the man she thought was dead walked and talked as if he were alive? It was treacherous, in her mind. Gandalf had chosen to fall. Why did he come back if he thought that was the right choice?

"(Y/N)," Legolas said. "Could you loosen your grip?"

She looked to his shoulders, where her nails cut deep into his sleeves. She chuckled nervously, relaxing her fingers. "Sorry..."

"Don't worry about it."

She opened her mouth to reply to him, but found that no words left them. She had done that several times now- trying to speak when no words needed to be spoken. Especially with Legolas. She had often felt like she needed to carry on conversing with him, though it wasn't necessary. (Y/N) hadn't the faintest clue why; she didn't feel that way about the others. 

After many hours under the cyan sky, their eyes caught glimpse of a settlement in the distance. Clumps of cottages piled on top of each other, encasing a mounting hill. As they came closer, they felt the wind pick up, whip at their hair and shove at their chests. (Y/N) had to practically duck under the elf's hair, as it flounced into her eyes. She watched the hooves of their steed trudge over the wet ground, over bits of torn grass and goops of mud. She grimaced, before finding something else catching her attention. 

The fallen flag of Rohan.

It had fluttered from the halls of Rohan, and had crumpled in a heap as they had past. As they rode on, they caught attention of the sombre villagers. All of their eyes were empty, devoid of all feeling. 

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered. (Y/N) tightened her grip on Legolas's shoulders- she did not remember it being so melancholy. As they reached the gates of the hall, they dismounted to climb the steep steps to the king. They were greeted rather coldly at the door, by guards in armour.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhalm. By Gríma Wormtongue," the guard warned, indicating to their weapons. The wizard sighed, but nodded to the others. (Y/N) slid her blade from its sheath, handing it cautiously to the guard before her- she wondered when she would get it back. She then proceeded to watch her companions pull out an array of weapons. Well, wasn't I under prepared... she blushed.

When all weapons were relinquished, the guard looked to Gandalf- his staff was still in hand.

"Your staff."

"Hmm? Oh, you would not part an old man from his walking stick?" he replied, an innocence in his eyes. The guard nodded, and turned to open the doors to the hall. The white wizard twinkled in triumph, and took Legolas's arm. (Y/N) shrunk to Aragorn's side, wary of what may arise in this meeting.

Silenced consumed the hall as they entered. The only sound was the slow pulsing noise of their thumping boots against the wooden floor. Every eye was fixated on them, judging and discriminating. (Y/N) tried to keep her head forward, staring directly at the back of the elf's head- but she could still feel their gaze. 

Then her eyes fell on the king. Withered, ailed and wrinkled, his unruly greyish hair stick end from end, his eyes seemed to have little colour in them, and his skin was paler than the moon. Though he wore a crown on his head, he bared no resemblance to a king. He seem more mad than great. It did not help, that by his side sat a snake of a man. He had knelt by the king's side, and whispers through his locks of greasy, dark hair.

"My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming. He's a herald of woe," the man whispered to the king.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf cried.

"He's not welcome!" The man hissed. Theoden raised his head slowly, craning his neck as his eyes met with Gandalf's.

"W-why should I...welcome you, Gandalf...Stormcrow?" the king's eyes returned to the man.

"A just question, my liege! Late is the hour in which that this conjurer chooses to appear! Lathspell I name him! Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf growled, brandishing his staff. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!"

The man visibly paled at the sight of the staff, eyes widening. "His staff!" He looked to the guards. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

In a flash of silver, the guards approached Gandalf with raised fists. (Y/N) was the first to step out of bounds and kick one of them to the ground. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas followed in suit, attacking all those who dared approach. Over the cries of anguish and the crack of bones, they could still hear the calmness in the wizard's voice.

"Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the shadows."

The snake-like man leant against a pillar heaving. He attempt to crawl through the battle, unnoticed- but both Gimli and (Y/N) seized him. "I would stay still, if I were you," the dwarf growled, aiming his sword at the man.

"What he said," the woman shrugged.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf cried, holding the point of his staff to align with the king's head. (Y/N) felt a pulse, a force that drew inwards to the king. It was soft resistance, that compelled at the darkness- she winced, holding her stomach. Something was twisting inside of her, squirming to lash out. "I release you from your spell."

The wizard gestured silently with his hand- but the darkness in Théoden's eyes did not fade. A cackle escaped the king's lips, jeering at Gandalf.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" he declared, baring his crooked teeth. His voice sounded unnatural, mangled disgustingly.

The wizard was not fazed. In an instant, he threw off his cloak, revealing the blinding light of his white robes. The king was thrown back into his throne, as the force grew stronger. It irked (Y/N); something inside of her was growing stronger, but it weighed her own spirit down. She couldn't concentrate, as blurred colours flashed through her mind.

She screamed for someone, but no one came.

She leant against the wall, holding her head. She knew she could fight it- she had done so before. 

Sparks flew, and the timber panel burst into flames.

She had controlled herself before. Why not now? Why was he getting the better of her?

He was inside her head.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!"

He was tormenting her.

"If...if I go...Théoden dies..."

He was a foe who disguised himself as a friend.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

"Rohan...is mine!"

There was a blinding flash, and (Y/N) stumbled back. Her heart stopped fatefully, and she could not longer take air in. Her eyes stared up at the king of Rohan, as he struggled in the grip of Gandalf's power.

"Be gone!"

THE EYE OF SAURON WAS EVER WATCHFUL OVER THE FREE PEOPLE OF MIDDLE-EARTH.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,

ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,

ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

The flashes of pain that swarmed through her were burning. It was as if fire itself was claiming her soul; but it was a fleeting moment of intense agony. When she stood tall, no one had noticed her gripping her stomach- their eyes were still on the king. She grunted, and turned to find a man she did not recognise. It had seemed that years of age had melted from his face, and a glint of fading beauty was brushed into his eyes. King Théoden. A woman came to his side- blonde and in white and gold. He smiled at her, fondly holding her face. He whispered slowly to her, before looking up to the wizard.

"Gandalf?" he asked. His voice was soft, but had a grandeur about it.

The white wizard smiled. "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

The king rose shakily to his feet, his knees shaking. "Dark have my dreams been of late." He slowly passed his hands over each, trembling.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped your sword."

A golden hilt was presented before the King. He hesitated, fearing he may not be what he once was. But taken in by the nostalgia of the object, his fingers wound its way down the pommel and to the grip. As it unsheathed, the sound of the blade echoed through the air. The free people of Rohan took it as a ring for new times.

(Y/N) was instantly taken aback when the man from before, Gríma, shoved into her. The man sprawled back to the floor, groaning pathetically. The king eyed him with fury, and marched towards him. Gimli pulled the woman out of the way, as Theoden proceeded to throw Gríma from the hall of Rohan, aiming his blade to his neck. Aragorn had rushed out, persuading the king not to spill Wormtongue's blood. And so, the snake-like man left the home of the king on the back of a horse.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

(Y/N) silently found her way to the chambers where the others were residing. She knocked twice, and was greeted kindly by Legolas. Upon entry, she noticed the room was in fact empty. She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you wanted to meet with me alone."

Legolas awkwardly glanced away. "No, you mistake me. The others have yet to return from eating. I did not mean to imply--"

"Legolas," she smiled. "I understand." She sat herself upon one of the chairs, and twiddled her fingers. She could hear Legolas inhale heavily, as if he had just ran a marathon. "Are you quite all right?"

"Fine. I...I just observed earlier today..." He paced across the room, before suddenly coming down to his knees. The woman leant back in her chair, anxiety mounting inside of her. The elf did not look at her, and instead found the ground more interesting. "When Gandalf drew out Saruman from Theoden, you were in pain, weren't you? Why?"

When he looked at her, (Y/N) had stiffened. She opened her mouth, but she couldn't utter a thing. She shook her head, bowing down to focus on her hands in her lap.

"I said I'd help you. I can only do that if you tell me," he said kindly.

"Gandalf is here now. I don't want to burden you."

"But you don't. I want to help." He tried to grasp her hand, but she pulled away. She darted off the chair.

"I've been as honest as I possibly can! But I don't know anymore! There is so much you don't know, that you don't understand!" she despaired, holding her arms.

He swivelled so he could face her properly. "Then explain to me."

"Legolas, this is far more than just a curse. This is my life, and it will be my death. It has been other people's pain and suffering. The honest truth is that I am uncertain. I am uncertain whether or not I am a monster. For I have not known a time where Sauron has not been in my--"

She slapped her hands over her mouth. "--in...in my head," she mumbled through her fingers. She indicated slowly to his stance. "Please get off you knees, Legolas."

Legolas's mouth dropped open, and he rose to his feet. "Sauron? What do you--"

There was a hasty knock on the door. The elf's eyes did not leave hers- he did not blink, he did not move.

"Legolas. The door," she whispered, a forlorn expression wiping over her face. The elf sighed, and stepped towards it. When he opened the door, an elder man entered, dressed in silver armour.

"Are you part of the fellowship?" he asked, rubbing the back of the neck.

"Yes..." Legolas replied uncertainly.

"Then I trust you know my daughter, (Y/N). I believe she joined--"

"Father?!"