Chapter Text
"In wars past only homes burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even loneliness ignites. In wars past only bodies burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even shadows ignite." -Kamila Shamsie
Inconnu whirled around herself, finding that she was in the thick of a forest. Old trees grew tall and twisted, a heavy presence lingering. There was more to this forest and her instincts warned her to not anger the trees, to not walk among them with any form of perceived threat.
With great care in her steps Inconnu began to wander through the trees, her confidence growing the further she went without retaliation to her presence. She had no idea as to her destination, only the inkling that something important, something terrible, would happen in this forest.
Flickering orange light in the distance caught her attention, and it only when she was but a few yards away that Inconnu realized she had moved. The flickering grew stronger, and Inconnu recognized the light to be fire. A fire that was growing larger as the seconds passed by. Soon she was at the very edges of the blaze, noting with great surprise that she did not feel the heat of the flames.
The great trees were burning, dry wood snapping and large branches breaking off from far above the ground. Inconnu dodged such a branch as it fell, not willing to tempt fate by testing her apparent invulnerability. She could almost feel the pain of the forest as the fire raged, as it blackened what was once a variety of earthen browns and greens. This was a terrible sight indeed.
It was then that a high-pitched screech, filled with sheer pain and fear, overwhelmed her ears. Inconnu nearly clutched at them, the sound of such cries almost too much to bear. Then it stopped, the crackling of the fire around her the only sound until it sounded again. Inconnu decided to see what was causing such screams and ran toward the sound, wary of the dangerous terrain that was her path. Deeper into the flames.
She then stumbled upon a small clearing, only barely being able to called one. Here Inconnu was at the heart of the great fire, and she knew that this was where it started. In the center of the small area was a separate burning fire, more appropriately, a bonfire. The flames licked at strangely arranged branches, giving the appearance of a humanoid figure. As if made from the very trees of this forest.
The screeches were coming from the bonfire, but not from the creature of wood. The limbs made of branches were still, unmoving as it burned. Inconnu lifted a hand as to better shield her eyes from the fires, and it was then that she saw the dark figure, trapped underneath the creature as it too burned.
No. Not it... Him.
Inconnu's eyes widened in shock as she saw the longsword only a few feet away, recognizing the pommel. Her hands went to her mouth, in complete shock of the scene that was before her. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help him. Inconnu's mind was in turmoil, warring between utter shock and pure instinct.
"Inconnu..."
Her instincts won out when the Witch-King reached out to her, his iron gauntlet outstretched as far as it could go. It was so very clear as to how much pain he was in, and Inconnu thought she would never see Er-Murazor emanating so much fear. The mere thought of the Witch-King being afraid of anything was a ridiculous notion, and yet here he was. Burning and very much afraid.
The moments seemed to slow the closer Inconnu got to him, as if time did not wish for her to reach him. She defied it however, refusing to leave him alone in such a state, reaching for her. Then she was on her knees beside him, both hands grasping onto his gauntlet. Reason dictated that the iron it was made of should be hot from the flames, but to her it was cool to the touch.
"Inconnu..." He again cried out, his voice much hoarser than it usually was.
She leaned in closer and his hood tilted to the side, better to see her. His gauntlet gripped the hand underneath it, firm and unwilling to let it go.
"I can't..."
"Can't what?" Inconnu whispered back, her cheeks already wetting from tears. A pause of words, the sounds of a raging fire.
"It's all too confusing..."
"What is?"
"You...Myself..."
Inconnu's grey eyes widened and before she could ask him what he meant the Witch-King continued with a single word, his grip tightening harshly.
"Us."
Inconnu was speechless, completely and utterly. So much so, that she didn't notice she was fading away until she no longer felt his grip on her hand. Desperately, she tried to regain a hold on it but each attempt ended in failure. Er-Murazor, too, tried to hold onto her hand only to have the same results. The moments seemed to speed up the more they tried, and this time Inconnu could not defy it.
The last thing Inconnu saw was him reaching out to her again, the whisper of her name in the air before he let out an ear-splitting shriek as the raging flames continued to try and consume him.
Inconnu awoke with quite the start, cold sweat upon her brow and running down the length of her spine. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, her mind working to accept what she had just experienced. Inconnu had never felt more afraid then at that moment, never had felt so tortured deep inside.
I couldn't help him... Why, why couldn't I save him from the fire?
She drew in a shuddering breath, slowly calming her racing heart. Eventually, she was able to properly inspect her thoughts in comparison to the terrible dream. Inconnu recognized it to be no ordinary dream, such as the two with Oromë and the one before with the Witch-King. She was more than certain that the dream was an actual experience, and that its events also were true. A cold dread seeped into her heart as she thought of the state Er-Murazor was in when she found him, and it hurt more with the knowledge that it actually happened.
In the next instant she swept her feet off the finely crafted bed and prepared to leave.
Later...
Inconnu glanced around her as she silently moved through the trees, making her way for the south-eastern edge of Lothlórien. She carried the gear she had taken from Sverundr when she had followed the Fellowship into the mines, needing the supplies that were left. She was already fairly close to the treeline, and it was here she decided to stop and summon her old friend as she set down the gear she carried.
She let out a short series of three whistles, the first very high and followed by two pitches of low, descending tones. Inconnu didn't have to wait too long.
She was always in awe each time Sverundr appeared after she summoned him to her. Full of muscle and grace that seemed impossible for a stallion of his size. Inconnu's features fell into a wry smile, remembering when Sverundr was a gangly colt and quite unaware of his size. Oh yes, a very different image for sure.
Sverundr nuzzled her shoulder when he reached her, happy to be next to her again. Inconnu chuckled and patted his neck.
"I missed you too big boy, and I get to say I told you so since we now meet again on the other side."
He snorted and pulled back enough to head butt her playfully, earning another laugh from Inconnu. After a few more minutes of reconciliation, Inconnu stored her gear within the saddlebags and was about to mount the saddle when a voice came from behind her.
"Leaving so soon Wanderer?"
Inconnu's head turned to face Galadriel, who had a wry smile upon her lips. Sighing faintly, Inconnu nodded and replied, "My hunt now takes a new direction, and so I cannot stay with the Fellowship."
"Do they know of this decision?"
"The possibility of this happening was spoken of before we departed from Imladris."
Galadriel responded with a slow nod, and with an elegant wave of her hand Haldir appeared from behind a small grouping of trees. In his arms were a variety of things by Inconnu's guess, as there were two bundles: one long and wrapped in a thick grey fabric, and the other green in color and more like a bag.
"We wish to present you with gifts that will aid in your long journey, Wanderer." Haldir said. "Items you would have received later along with the others of the Fellowship."
Inconnu caught onto his meaning, and was glad that the others would also be gifted with items that would help them as well. Galadriel took the item wrapped in the grey fabric from Haldir, indicating that it would be given to her after the green bag, which Haldir presented her with.
"Lembas, able to stay your hunger in the most dire of famines that might plague you."
Lembas, or better known in the common tongue as 'Waybread.' Inconnu was somewhat familiar with the thin cakes of Elven bread, though had never consumed it before. As much as she wanted to try some now, she was wiser than that and would save it for when it was truly needed and no other food could be scavenged or hunted. After accepting it and storing it away, Galadriel approached Inconnu only to stop a mere few feet away.
Crystalline blue met sterling grey, and Galadriel did not speak until she had given the grey bundle to Inconnu.
"This gift is made of two items: a cloak comprised of the same materials as our own, though grey in color to better suit you, and inside it a gift from another."
Inconnu's eyes widened, remembering what Oromë told her about such a gift. With great care, she unwrapped the cloak and discovered a longsword. She swung the cloak over the saddle limply so she could better inspect the blade, and withdrawing it slightly from scabbard she saw it was not of Elven make. Inconnu then fully unsheathed it and watched how pale morning light danced along the metal.
"The blade was named Ghost's Song, forged during the days when the Witch-Realm of Angmar terrorized the broken kingdom of Arnor. A Westernesse blade among the many forged to combat the creatures of Angmar, and to give the men of the north a fighting chance against the Witch-King himself."
Inconnu was impressed with the blade's balance, feeling natural in her grip as though it had always belonged there. Galadriel continued in a knowing tone.
"It's history is unique among its brethren, and it is not my place to tell you but another's. Ghost's Song will serve you well in the future days."
Inconnu sheathed the blade and gave a deep nod of understanding before securing it to the saddle and mounting. She waved to them a farewell, returned by both Galadriel and Haldir before Inconnu spurred Sverundr south, following her intuition as where her dream had taken place.
Fangorn Forest
Inconnu had dismounted some time ago, the only semblance of a path into the forest making it impossible for her to ride through. She led Sverundr along, dread building up within her though denial still had a voice in her mind. Sverundr kept calm however despite Inconnu's demeanor, and this brought a strong sense of security for her and a good measure of comfort.
It wasn't long until they discovered the charred trees, the ground littered with white and grey ash. Inconnu had to pull up her scarf in order to not breathe in the remains of the once great trees, and did so for Sverundr with a spare thin blanket. They tread deeper into the black scar of the forest, the anger and sorrow of the nature that survived almost tangible in the very air around them.
The dark atmosphere and feelings only grew the closer they came to center of the destruction, and when the did Inconnu nearly fell to her knees in the layers of ash. Before her was the very proof of her dream, evidence that was indisputable of its existence. There were the remains of the tree-like being and in the next moment Inconnu was kneeling beside it and checking underneath it. Inconnu released a soft sigh of relief, as the Witch-King wasn't still trapped.
He must have had enough strength left to escape.
Standing again, Inconnu searched the small area for any other signs of him and where he might have gone. The thick layers of ash made it very difficult to tell exactly what had happened after the events of the dream. Eventually, Sverundr moves opposite to where Inconnu was searching and starts digging into the ash a little with a hoof. This gains her attention and she raised an eyebrow somewhat before dashing over to the large stallion.
On her knees again, she helped her old friend with the digging until the hilt of a dark blade showed through the white and grey. The digging intensified with this discovery until the entirety of the blade was revealed. Carefully, Inconnu picked it up and let her eyes go over each detail of the blade before resting on the pommel once again. It was the Witch-King's blade to be sure, and Inconnu realized that not only was he more than likely heavily injured, but also without his primary form of defense.
Vulnerable was not a word associated with the Witch-King, and yet at this time it seemed just a little more possible now.
Inconnu had to find him, she knew this with absolute certainty, but still had no real clue as to which direction he had went. It struck her then at that moment, and instinctively her head turned to face north, the direction of home. She didn't truly need physical evidence to find him. They were connected by their souls, and that would be the path Inconnu would follow.
She wrapped the Witch-King's blade in another spare blanket and strapped it across the saddlebags just behind the saddle itself before mounting and spurring Sverundr into action. Their path lied north, and Inconnu hoped that she would find him quickly.
Isengard
"Great Sauron, I bring you news of the Witch-King after searching so long for him."
"Iav huak been avhree monavhuk. Avhree monavhuk ro ukilence from avhe commandas ro mausan armoruk. Wiavh your nauk-ukourceuk, jiakhad expecavun lat avo gimb naj-ri ukoonas avhan avhiuk." It has been three months. Three months of silence from the commander of my armies. With your resources, I had expected you to find him sooner than this.
"My apologies Dark One, but there had been no sign of him until now."
"Go par." Go on.
A sly smirk.
"I will, but first I wish to know the secrets to building a greater creature for the war I am to wage against the Rohirrim."
A brief moment of heavy, dangerous silence.
"Lat dare avo avrausan agh avrick alnej Istari!" You dare to try and blackmail me wizard!
"Then you must not care too much about the lack of your most powerful Nazgûl."
"Jiak won'av forgeav avhiuk." I won't forget this.
"I am sure of that. The previous night I heard the screams of a single creature, a sound that could only come from one of your Ringwraiths. In the distance I spotted a great fire within the Fangorn Forest, and knowing where you have sent the other eight it was obvious that your Witch-King was the one screeching."
The atmosphere darkened considerably.
"My spies returned to me only an hour ago with confirmation that it had been the Witch-King, the only thing remaining the charred remains of an Ent and the signs of quite the fight. What surprised me however was that not long after the arrival of my spies the Wanderer of the Mists also arrived, discovering the Witch-King's sword and then leaving rather quickly."
The very air now trembled with the dark, evil presence as this account continued.
"My conclusion is that the Witch-King has become prey to the Huntress of the North, and has been for some time."
"Um avhiuk iuk avrue, avhen nalkroro hiuk uklience?" If this is true, then why his silence?
"The Wanderer possesses many abilities, some more than likely delving into the mystical arts. She may hold knowledge that has made the Witch-King mute and deaf to you. Isolating him to provide an easier hunt."
"T'he jiak bebbefori avhaav avhe hunavas muukav becor avhe hunavun. Jiak bebefori lat know nalkren avhiuk saib come abouav, agh jiak ukhall imparav avo lat avhe knoelege par nalkren vao creaave avhe ushtar lat ukeek." Then I believe that the hunter must become the hunted. I believe you know how this can come about, and I shall impart to you the knowledge on how to create the army you seek.
"Indeed, and my eternal thanks."