A/N: If you just plugged in for the last chapter update, you might want to step back. Today, as a Halloween bonus, I have given you two chapters for the price of one. Chapter 42, "Duplicity", has been posted. Enjoy, and Happy Halloween to all!

The Hunting Trip
Chapter 43: Water, Wind, Fire and Earth

Aragorn frowned as his eyes scanned the trees and the grounds in the forest before him. A chattering squirrel barked down at him from a nearby tree, scolding him for taking up space in the creatures personal terrain. The former Ranger cast an irritated glare over his shoulder at the small rodent. "Daro, mellon," he muttered softly, "I cannot concentrate when you make all that din."

The animal ceased its noise, its tiny black eyes blinking while it cocked its head to the side. Aragorn could not help but smirk as he watched the furry mammal gazing at him, as if the small creature were pondering the words Aragorn said. "She is late," he explained, and the squirrel spoke again, rachachatting noises emitting from its throat.

"I do not know why," he said, keeping the dialogue going as if the animal truly were speaking to him. It amused him to think of the potential for a conversation with this squirrel. How many times had he seen Elladan, Elrohir, or Legolas carry on conversations with the animals of the forest? Somehow he had always believed these exchanges to be real. Elves did tend to have a way with the graces of nature. But what if the conversations between the animals and the Elves were complete contrivances, just as this one was for him? He smiled again. Knowing the simple amusements of the Firstborn, it would not surprise him if he should learn that they had been making it up for years for the sake of seeing Estel's gullibility. Conspiracy theory aside, it would not be beyond any of them. Time meant nothing to them and keeping the ruse over years would be simply something done in good humor to the three. He made a mental note that he should ask the next time he should see any one of them.

The squirrel scampered off, leaving Aragorn alone with his thoughts.

He immediately frowned, his scowl growing deep as he realized just how far his mind had wandered. Legolas would likely be the next Elf he would see, but he somehow doubted there would be anything so frivolous of which to speak with his friend. So much was in jeopardy now, and Legolas fate worried him as much as anything else in this disaster.

"Where are you, Arwen?" he said aloud, his voice now anxious and eager. He repressed the teary worry that threatened to dissolve into a frustrated scream. He knew he must keep his emotions in check, even though his heart hurt with every beat it sounded in his chest.

"See you anything, Aragorn?" Gimli said, calling up to him.

He said nothing, merely shaking his head as he gazed out again to the trees and paths of the forest for a clue as to his wife's whereabouts. A terrible dread was eating at him and all his earlier regrets were playing again in his mind.

He looked down from the branch on which he stood, his eyes meeting Gimlis as he did. The Dwarf frowned, shaking his head and lowering his gaze as he miserably sighed. A wave of sympathy swept over Aragorn. Gimli was as nervous and frightened as Aragorn and the king realized what a terrible weight it was that they bore. Their waiting was nearly intolerable.

"The hour grows late," Faramir said, coming away from the path he had been watching to stand next to the Dwarf. He too looked up to Aragorn as he spoke. "A decision must be made."

"She should have been back by now," Gimli murmured as Aragorn bent down and grasped the branch on which he was standing to swing down and then drop from the tree. He landed with only the slightest of sounds.

"What should we do?" Faramir asked, his face pale and grim. The prince's eyes turned and again sought out the path he had been watching before returning to the king.

Aragorn's eyes followed the direction that Faramir's gaze had followed. Henneth-Annün's entrance was just beyond the path a few hundred feet ahead. He could see the sweep of the falls through the trees. The rocky base was milky white with the frothing water churning over jagged and deadly stones at the catch basin. The light cast warm shadows on the surface, rich hues of golden light juxtaposed with the deep azure of the water, and the melding of the crisp verdant colors of the evergreens about mixed with the light spray of mist being emitted by the pummeling water. It was regal, this beauty, and at the same time there was a frighteningly mystical quality about the pool that sent tremors of fear up Aragorn's spine, as if ghosts were drifting on the air out of the fire of the sun and the cool of the water and the razor sharp edges of the stone.

Yet all else was normal in nature abounding beyond this fortress. The crickets began their mating song, and the birds twittered in the trees as Aragorn's eyes drew away from the waterfall. Light dappled through the branches showcasing the afternoon sun and its color while the scent of pine was an invigorating balm to the senses. The happenstance was a strange thing to behold, for when his eyes fell upon the tower of water, he sensed an evil within that abode that shook him. Perhaps the sensation came only from him, created by his knowledge of what lay there. But he almost sensed that it permeated out, tainting the beauty that fell about it somehow.

He looked back at Gimli and Faramir then, a restless wariness evident in their countenances. They sense it too, he thought, and he wondered at what chance they stood against a witchcraft that had grown in power as to have almost a physical presence. Bregus had already been a formidable foe. Now, could she be stopped?

Still, he had to remind himself, she had the advantage of being an unknown before. Now at least we have knowledge in our favor. Greater tasks than this had they faced. They would conquer the evil that lay before them.

"We carry on as we had planned," Aragorn answered.

Faramir touched his arm, concern riding over his drawn brow. "What of Arwen?" he asked in words that were but a whisper.

The corners of Aragorn's mouth tugged downward. He felt his heart thrum an ache of longing within his chest. He paused, fighting back everything within him that made him want to scream, cry, thrash the nearest object and give chase into the wilds to search for her, find her, and relieve him of the visions that wrapped their sinuous cords around his weary mind. "There is no time," he uttered, surprised at how calm his voice was given the agonizing pain within his chest. "She would not want us to pause in our task for her sake. She knew what was at stake when she set out."

"Then should we send out another in her stead?" Faramir asked.

Aragorn looked to the sky, reading the angle of the sun. He knew what Faramir asked. There was still time left for one more of them to retreat, to run to the camp of the soldiers and gather their aid. Time was still theirs, but only just. They were dangerously approaching the moment when that journey would take too long, and the opportunity to find outside help would be past.

He sighed. What right was it of his to decide where the hearts of his friends might lie? He knew his own. That was all he could claim and he knew if he turned away from the task set at their feet it would be a betrayal of friendships dear. Gathering this, he realized how very shrewd Arwen had been in volunteering herself for the task of seeking help, for she had surmised no other would depart the battle line, knowing what was to come, and do so on a clear conscience.

"Would you leave now, knowing what you do?" he answered in response.

The steward's face gave no clues. Fair eyes turned back to the column of water. He sought there an answer Aragorn could not force. A moment's pause met him, and then the stoic expression returned and the younger man answered in turn, "I would not."

Aragorn smiled, wondering if he could not have surmised as much on his own. The fact that he had asked perhaps told him not, but now looking into the resolute expression of the man before him, he realized the answer could never be anything but what had been given.

On the other hand, he did not even have the chance to direct his eyes down on the Dwarf when that one's answer was given. "Dare not even inquire, Aragorn, for you know I will not leave here until we have seen our friends free."

Aragorn laughed softly, but the slight mirth dissolved into determination. The king nodded his agreement, his jaw tightening with the steely certitude. The decision was clear. They would continue to wait for Arwen and the reinforcements she was to bring. And though it hurt his heart to think of her and perhaps her need, he knew also he was not deserting her cause. He was showing he believed in it. Further, in a more humble part of his being he knew, there could be no other way. Given who they were and what they faced, none of them could be dragged away from the grounds of Henneth-Annün at this moment.

"We must rethink our strategy a bit if we are to do this alone," Aragorn said, stating what he thought was the obvious response given this renewed decision.

The grasp on his arm by his human companion surprised him. "Please let me be the one to do it, Aragorn. I know you would offer, but I feel I must do what I can to give Éowyn and Legolas the greatest aid."

Aragorn knew exactly of what Faramir spoke. The danger in which they were putting themselves was immense, and allowing Faramir to go alone in this endeavor brought with it frightening prospects. So much better would it be, both for power and for strategy, if they could go together. Having been given a taste of the witchs manipulation and power, even before she had magnified that skill by taking Henneth-Annün, Aragorn felt it might be better to face her as a duo. If only . . . Yet he also recognized there was a need for someone to cover the lower entrance, though that endeavor would be suicidal if done alone. In fact all of their tasks now, alone as they seemingly were, tolled a knell of death for those taking the chance.

Such were the risks of battle. Such were the risks of a fight for life. Sacrifice and valor. Friendship and love . . .

His head turned sharply, his eyes narrowing with a passing breath of wind. He stepped away, treading lightly off the course of the trail, silently striding over bramble and green growth. And then he gasped his relief, and turning to his companions he acknowledged what he now knew. "Mayhap the task remains still to be ours jointly. Listen."

And with those words, the sounds grew louder and the air of the forest stirred. The treading sounds of a dozen or more horses approached, and for the first time Aragorn felt his heart lift, lightened by the song of his heart.

Arwen's shining face appeared before him, glowing brightly among the host of the uniformed men coming near on horseback. Dogs scampered at their feet, wary and respectful of the hooves, glancing at the lady with obedience and worship in their gazes. At the rear of the company, more horses followed, and for a moment his eyes did not comprehend who rode there. But then he realized they were Elves led by Hallathôn, the guardsman to whom Legolas had spoken before their departure from Doro Lanthiron.

Delighted by this addition he smiled, but then he stilled his pleasure by realizing they came because they had learned of the fate of the missing Elves. Dead. They were here to give warning, to protect their lord, and perhaps their appearance is what had waylaid Arwens return. Sorrowful as he was, he knew he was made stronger by their presence.

Aragorn stepped forward, closing the distance between the company and him, advancing that he might garner the power now given him. The shining center of all smiled down upon him, and his faith, his soul, his meddle were given succor. Everything that made him king and mightiest among men was returned to him with the kiss of her eyes as they turned to meet his. Here was his heart.

He ventured forward to meet his wife and the looming threat at his back shrank. The silent fears tangled themselves in the jutting shards of stone. They did not rule him or the lives of those trapped within. The power that was due him had arrived and he willingly embraced it.

****

All the brave words of the young woman had been for naught, for apparently the old woman had betrayed her and forsaken the girl for her own desire. Éowyn could not determine what reason Kattica had to act as she did. She need not have spoken for Legolas' sake. Yet for every doubt laid bare to her, there were reassurances that the woman had a good heart. Despite the evidence made apparent to Éowyn, she felt certain the old woman did not, could not, perceive the good intentions.

"You have put your life at risk," Éowyn commented, watching the girl to see what she might say of this.

"That was my intention," Kattica murmured before she rushed to Mattias' side leaving Éowyn alone. The Romany man no longer had the ability to get up as his legs too had been bound.

"My love!" she gasped and she brushed her hand along his face. Their heads came together, and the touching of their brows was as intimate as a kiss. Éowyn turned her head away to give them a moment of privacy, but no words did she hear uttered.

At last they pulled apart, and the woman, though large because of her pregnancy, moved to a standing position with fluid grace. In but a few steps, she knelt beside the Elf again.

She said, "Mattias has told me of what has occurred here, but now I must do what I can to help Legolas. He is not well." Her eyes met Éowyn's but the Rohirric woman felt her gaze went deeper as if into her soul. "What do you know of sea-longing?" Kattica asked.

Éowyn felt a combination of emotions then. The sting of pride, resentfulness, and hope all emerged before her. The question brought out the accusation that Bregus had made, and highlighted in Éowyn's mind the foolish way in which she had acted to care for her friend's trauma. The truth was she knew so very little of Legolas' affliction. Such guilt did this realization stir.

It was a sheer accident, in fact, that she knew anything at all. Her knowledge of inducing it was not practiced, nor had she ever tried to incur it before. Her face grew red in shame as she recounted in her mind that she had accidentally overheard a conversation between Legolas and Arwen in which the Elf had told the queen that the simplest reminders to his senses could draw a yearning daze in him. It was a confidentiality never intended for Éowyn's ears. That knowledge alone produced culpability enough for her to feel she had violated something of him.

But worse, she had only witnessed the one occasion when Faramir had pulled the Elf back from the sea's trance, and that was hardly reason for her to believe she could master this illness enough to do as she had done.

As one trained in some of the healing arts, her actions had been reckless, like the bungled actions of an inexperienced soldier forced to perform surgery in the field. So too had she acted. It was unforgivable, for often had she seen how such actions could result in death, even for the good of their intentions. Yet was it the healing offered that killed, or the severity of the injury that did it? This Éowyn could not say.

All she knew was that she had thought she was helping.

On the other hand, extremely limited though her knowledge was, in a way she felt justification for her ignorance. Ioreth had mentioned nothing of the illness while Éowyn had administered aid in the Houses of Healing. In fact, nothing of Elven healing had been taught there, and Éowyn had come to assume that Elves suffered no ailments at all, save bodily injury. She had never heard of a sick Elf, and for the most part, all she had ever witnessed, was the one instance of Legolas' minor bout with the sea-longing. Even he said nothing of it, and so she simply brushed it aside like one might brush aside the smallest ailments of man.

Ignorance was her excuse, and now she felt sick for it. She should have guessed at the severity of it. How she longed to go back and undo her actions. She had made assumptions, and that was wrong.

She wished too that she had paid heed to Legolas plea. Had he not cried out 'No!' as she had administered the latent desire with her voice? And this too stung, for she realized she had ignored him and forced it upon him just as these others had foisted their dark intentions on him. She told herself she was merely applying aid to a resistant patient, for Legolas certainly was not in a right mind then, but had something within her enjoyed it as well? She had to ask herself this, as she could no longer say she did not find something of a thrill to control the Elf. However, if that were hers, it was not a desire that she openly knew. In fact, she felt sick just considering it.

"Do not admonish yourself. Your heart was in the right place. It was Bregus who took advantage, not you."

Éowyn gasped. That voice was inside her head, and the speaker was . . . Kattica?

Rich brown eyes turned on her, and Éowyn was struck by the intensity of them. It was then that she felt a hand touch her good arm. Again, Éowyn felt a voice speaking from inside her own head. "I understand what you feel, but now is not the time for regrets."

"You are in my mind. How? Is it the cave that enhances the skills for you?" Eowyn asked.

"Do not count me as your savior. I am as much a prisoner now as you are."

"But you will help us."

"I will try. I can promise nothing."

"That is more than we might have had."

"There is a plan I would share with you yet. It was partly devised by your husband."

The Rohirric woman blinked. "Faramir? He is alive? But you betray him by telling Bregus he would come for her."

Kattica nodded and smiled, saying aloud. "He is well." Then in her mind she said, "The betrayal is a part of the plan."

Éowyn's heart leapt with joy. Alive!

She was equally as exhilarated when she noted that the girl bent her head, and tried to, Éowyn assumed, reach Legolas' mind. A moment passed, and she realized, as the time went on that there was a small stirring in the Elf. But it was not a pleasant thing, for he winced and cried out. Kattica abruptly pulled away.

"I cannot reach him," she said at last, shaking her head and relinquishing her touch. He draws away from me. He distrusts. He cannot perceive that I might do good." Kattica frowned, her eyes never leaving Legolas' face. "He has strength, but it seems he has decided to give his heart up in sorrow. I do not know how much longer he will live."

Then again she turned to Éowyn, touching her again. Kattica's voice said, "You must find a way to help Legolas. I need you to try to find healing. Speak to him. A familiar voice may coax him awake where my magic may not. He will die if he does not come out of this state. His body seems to have the power to heal, but his heart and mind have been vanquished and he lingers on the fringes of deepest sorrow."

Éowyn's face twisted in anguish at this news. It was gruesome to bear as the full weight of her guilt hit her. She sobbed, "I did this! I did not know! He was in such pain! I was only trying to help him! I did not know it would drive him this deep!"

But Kattica's voice broke through to her core as one of the girl's slender hands came to touch the Elf's chest. "Someone else did this. He is too deeply trapped in his mind for me to think he lingers there on his own. From what I know of him, it is not his nature to give up or retreat. Someone pushed him this far. And now he will not withdraw because he has found sanctuary in his desires. He has been terribly damaged, mentally violated, but you must try. He is fading quickly now."

Éowyn nodded, though her heart was heavy with grief and guilt. "Yes, of course. I will try."

She pulled her arm away to begin her task with Legolas. A stab of pain ran up her side and she winced. Kattica again touched her. "I could heal you, but if I do, you must make it seem that you bear the injury still. Do you understand?"

Éowyn nodded. "It is little in comparison to all else, but it would be appreciated all the same." Then she turned her teary eyes back to the girl and said with the deepest sincerity, "Thank you . . . friend."

The crooked smile brightened the girl's face, and Éowyn could see up close the jagged scar that crossed diagonally from the girl's nostril to chin, marring her mouth. But in Éowyn's mind, she was moved by just how lovely Kattica was, and how the flaw only enhanced what was beautiful in her.

****

The fiery ball slowly descended the sky as the day labored on. Its bright radiance, like a flare of heavenly fire, cast its light widely over land and water as it slowly settled lower and lower into the sky. And with that slow, unfettered motion its appearance gradually changed, growing from its blinding glow of piercing yellow-white light into the warmth of amber tones that marked an ending to the day. Iridescent was the color, entrancing and deepening, shifting to a hue of orange and red. The color was like the essence of a tropical fruit, but more so, intense, and penetrating, and uplifting. All the land was cast in the astonishing array of succulent color that beamed over the earth's surface. The glorious reckoning of light and color illuminated the sky, meshing the fringes of deeper hues, cool and inviting, with the rich whisper of night.

And high above, in the heavens, beyond the path of the sun, the stars hung in the sky, hidden and waiting for the spectacle of that royal presence to pass. Equally as inspiring, equally as regal, the stars would blink and shimmer their bountiful light, as if displaying their pleasures for the sun's glory. Though minor in comparison to that great orb, they twinkled without jealousy, and they were every bit as intriguing and delightful as that singular body. In fact they were allied, and though one would not emerge where the other strode, in their ebullient appearances and departures they passed their secrets. So it seemed that the stars held sway too, but in a far more clandestine way than the sun. Their secrets were hidden to all but the few who studied them and marked them. Few knew the tales of their alignments and the powers that might be gained through them. But when they were, if everything came together in the right order, the makings of an event that might never come again in a lifetime could be found. In this way, the stars were as powerful as the sun.

Of course, the moon was an accomplice in this. The close kinship between the sun and moon could not be dismissed, and long had the time been coming when the perfect symmetry would be projected in the sky. Sun, stars and moon all worked together, and on the cusp of this night great magic for good or evil could come forth.

****

"Dear Aulë! Please do not let the Elf hear of this!"

There was much Gimli would wish upon his dear friend but news of what the Dwarf was undertaking on his behalf was not one of them. Concern regarding the grave report of what he knew had befallen weighed heavily in the Dwarfs mind. Though the details were uncertain that the Elf might even survive, whether this mission were successful or not, was in question. And should it transpire and they did succeed, the Dwarf was quite aware that much healing would be inevitable for Legolas' recovery. The Elf had suffered greatly and anything to remedy the misery would be needed in days to come. However, the current circumstances were the exception, and the Dwarf held no plans to share the amusement of his current predicament with his friend if there was any way to prevent it.

Gimli looked up. Perched in the branches of the trees overlooking this vista were Aragorn and Faramir, awaiting the Dwarf's signal to proceed in the assault.

Glancing around, he saw too the hints of the men of Gondor in the trees of the forest, and though he could not see them, he knew the Elves hid there as well. In fact, aside from the dogs and the horses, everyone was in the trees, including Gimli.

Do not look down, he told himself, focusing himself instead on the place that he had set as their signal point. Falling the thirty-foot drop to the ground was not an option.

This embarrassing predicament however could be blamed on no one. In fact, it had been Gimli who had volunteered for this duty. Any one of the Elves could have done this task. They were far more suited for climbing than a Dwarf, but Gimli would not have it. This task was his, for when he gave the mark, the assault would begin.

Perhaps it was selfish pride that forced him into it. This part of the plan was largely his, and as such he felt it his job to see it through. But also, the mithril Kattica was to use had been the Dwarf's find, and here too, he felt somewhat attached to seeing it being wielded. Truthfully however, Gimli had a third reason for maneuvering himself into the trees, and it was far less obvious except to those that knew him best. He simply wanted to see Legolas if he could. Somehow the need to know how dire the Elf's condition was drove him to pitiful frustration. And from this vantage point, all three requisites of Gimli's assignment could be met.

Like a hunter settled into a blind, he could watch those he sought without their observation of him. The prey was before him and he was level with the cave normally concealed behind the wall of water. But the moment was coming when he would see all within and have the answer to his vital demands. He knew that when the light hit from this angle at the exact moment of sunset, the anteroom to the cave would be brilliantly lit. Like a sparkling jewel it would show, rich and red and warm and everything within was as vivid as that without. Having seen it himself, Gimli knew the spectacle from inside the cave was as inspiring and magnificent to behold as it was from the outside. Like the heart of a fire, he thought.

The sun was sinking in the sky, getting nearer and nearer the horizon's edge as the minutes rolled past. Tensions and stress had marked every moment of this day, and the waiting had been maddening. And now the moment had come for the signal, and gruesome as it might be, the end would come.

Those who had inflicted this pain would see the punishment due them as payment for these crimes. And like the heat of a fire, Gimli felt his blood pulsing with the hot urgency of his heart. His eyes focused hard on the hazy forms growing more and more discernible behind the window of water. Any minute now . . .

****

"It is time."

The words spoken by the old shuv'ni made Kattica's stomach lurch. Tension made her body ache, muscles drawing up into tight knots. Despite the fear, she was prepared for this moment. Like a terrible nightmare, the day had gone on, long and unending, slow and dreadful as each minute seemed to be a test of her resolve. But now the waiting had ended, and the dread moment was upon her. It is time.

She felt as if she had been living her existence as a trembling, frightened creature, though outwardly she had given no clue that she felt this. She had fought to maintain her composure, difficult though that was. It was not merely the fear that she battled though. The powers given her by the cave rushed through her, around her, bolstering her. Strangely, it exhausted her as well to keep it in check. So much did she want to give in and take the power offered by the cave. That, or dowse the fires and let the radiant forces diminish that she might breathe normally again. Neither could be done though, and she was forced to live in this mystic realm despite the misery it caused her. But the time had come, and this earlier trial was past. Her heart thundered for the test that was upon her now for she knew her life was forfeit if all did not go as directed.

The light was growing warmer and brighter as it filled the cavern. Blazing color, dazzling and red, shone with an intensity comparative to the face of the sun. Bregus stepped forward, and the two boys, Yulli and Cheiro, followed, picking up the litter that carried Legolas between them and then carefully placed it in the center of the room, as if they were placing it upon an altar. Then nodding, Curtik stepped forward and hooked a hand beneath Éowyn's arm, pulling her to her feet. He effectively dragged her to a spot in the room about ten feet away from the Elf.

"No!" she screamed, her eyes fixed on Legolas, and she tried to run to his side, but the young man pushed her down, and then Bregus stepped forward and uttered the words to the Hunters Spell, causing the younger woman to freeze in her place for the few minutes it would take to complete the spell.

Kattica wondered at this. This was not according to the plan she had seen in Bregus mind. Yet she really saw no recourse but to follow along. One misstep could mean their lives, and already so much had been altered. They stood on shaky ground.

Her eyes slipped away and lit upon Gordash who was standing in the corner next to the tied and cloistered Mattias. Gordash had the biggest role to play in this plan, and Kattica prayed that his resolve was firm enough that he would not recant on his pledge. If he even could remember that pledge, she thought. His face showed a lax expression, a sort of lethargy, as if he had no thought as to what was his task and he was simply going through the motions of what was before him, like a puppet. Still, she had assumed that might happen when they had entered the cave. That he had retained as much of his own thoughts for as long as he had she found amazing, for she knew Bregus' power was incredibly strong in this Protected Place. It showed that he was resistant to the witchs will. She had ways to counter what cursed him now, and so she had convinced herself that she had to have faith she could reach him when the time came. Now her actions were guided by what she could do on her own given the limits she faced. It was a precarious place she was in, and any false move could be deadly.

It was their secret. Gordash was the keeper of the stones. She knew in the depths of his pockets he held them, and a call to his mind would retrieve them to her, though glancing at him now, she had fears that this might not come to pass. That he carried the stones at all had not been a part of the original plan designed with the others, but, knowing Bregus and how she might react, it was a modification she felt she had to make. The entirety of what they would do might have been nixed by Aragorn had they preplanned it. It was incredibly risky, contingent upon the strengths of both Gordash and Kattica. But doubtful though she might have been when she first laid eyes upon the large man, she had decided Faramirs words had been right. She had to have faith in Gordashs loyalty. The pact between she and Gordash had been made in the steps leading to the cave, and it was the ultimate test of her trust that she gave so much responsibility to him. She hoped she would not regret it.

Truth be told, she saw no other way.

Bregus would have never allowed her to enter the cave with those silvery-gold nuggets. She would have searched Kattica (as she had), and in doing so, she would have found them. The old witch would have understood their significance. It would have been instant death for the girl. But Gordash, she was certain, could smuggle them into the abode. Kattica knew he would not be searched. All that need be done was for Bregus to probe his mind. The promise to do the old woman no harm was finite to Gordash's truth, and so long as Bregus did not probe further, looking for answers to all that had become of him, their secret was safe. The fact was that Gordash had removed himself again from the planning stage of this scheme. And further, Gordash did not see the stones as harmful, because they fulfilled his desire to see no harm passed. They did no direct injury unto Bregus, and so his conscience was clear. Fortunately, Bregus, in all her years of leading and manipulating her people, had long since stopped noticing the minute details of their lives, and so a glancing sweep of Gordash's thoughts had been enough to assure her that Gordash was true.

Yet there were changes that had occurred in Bregus scheme, and not everything was going according to plan.

Kattica's eyes swept to the physical body of Curtik, He wore her amulet. That had not been planned, and it cut Kattica to the core to know he had it. That piece of jewelry was not simply a decoration. It was her link to her grandmother and the Other World, and without it, Kattica's powers were weakened to the point where she could not stand against Bregus. Perhaps I should have had Gordash carry this too? It certainly would have helped stave off the effect of Bregus' powers, she thought, but she immediately pushed this notion away. Strategically it was better he had not. Had she entered the cave essentially weaponless (the witch would not have counted the knife as weapon for nearly every Romany possessed one), that would have cast deep suspicion in Bregus' mind, and the old woman very well might have searched Gordash then. That Kattica carried her amulet upon entering proved to the old woman that she was not above suspicion. But it also made Bregus think the girl was not sharp enough to fashion a better weapon. And that too was fitting with what Bregus had long believed of her. Everything now hinged on anticipating the old womans actions and thoughts.

Even the abrupt turn, making the Elf her responsibility, Kattica had predicted. It had played out exactly as she expected it would. What was not predictable was that Kattica had maneuvered Bregus into doing it. Too, this had not been part of the original plan, though it made sense for it to happen as it made Kattica appear all the more witless in Bregus' mind.

Yet upon entering the cave, she could see that Legolas was in danger, and Kattica had to do something to save him. He was dying. She had to find a way to get near him that she might try to heal him. And since then, though his condition had not rapidly improved, Éowyn had managed to rouse the Elf enough to elicit what might be construed as a response. At least Legolas seemed to hear his voice called and had turned his eyes in the woman's direction. It was a positive step, and certainly would be considered one in which Kattica was adhering to her end of the bargain for Bregus' sake.

It had been a risk, but knowing Bregus as she did, it was not wholly out of the question to apply her duplicity here as well. Bregus loved feeling the victor. The moment when Kattica had been manipulated to become an accomplice to the old witch, she had seen it. Bregus would not hesitate to use Kattica again, even if she knew there were better ends that she might meet. But Bregus was truly not so foolish as that. Kattica's pretense of tears only served one purpose: to make Bregus feel she had power. In the end, Bregus would do what was best for her, and Éowyn would be the sacrifice so that Kattica could hold the doors. The old woman could not perform the spell of transformation and control the minds of her people at the same time. The reminder was there. The soldiers would attack. And no matter how much power she had gained through the strength of these walls, Bregus could not control all these things simultaneously. The spell she was about to cast would take too much of her.

No, Bregus was shrewd enough to see how Kattica might really aid her, and it was not as a sacrifice.

But then there was Bäla. Though he took the guise of Curtik, it did not matter. His spirit was there. He was an unknown, and she had not planned for his appearance. Further, she could not read him. His dark thoughts were a mystery to her. That he claimed to have no power could have been a falsity. Mattias had no proof, but he felt Bäla had strength he did not show, and so did she. But Bäla had remained subdued. He did not outwardly show his skills in magic. Judging by appearance though, Kattica would say he was wielding power over Bregus, magically or not. He led her. The idea repulsed her because of the sexual implications it presented, but it seemed there was an excessive amount of touching occurring between the younger Romany man and the old shuv'ni. Was this evidence of an enchantment?

If so, it was certain Bregus was doing the same, for she had called upon her skill of voice often enough to wield it as a charm when it suited her.

Which led Kattica to wonder: was this what their marriage had been like, both of them trying to manipulate and outmaneuver the other?

So long as they vied against each other though, Kattica was safe. Perhaps their own ambitions would divide them.

"Join me," Bregus demanded, and the singsong manner of words from elder days began to fill Kattica's ears. They pulled on her, moving her, making her head nod to keep time with the present beat. And at the same moment, the light was dazzling and her eyes were forced to squint to see. It was time.

Her eyes sought out Gordash. She willed him to come to her, but he looked directly ahead. Gordash, come to me, she thought.

"Say the words," the old woman said in a slurring voice, and Kattica recognized the effect of intoxication Bregus was experiencing due to the dark magic. Yet Kattica was afraid. Already she could feel the alluring desire taunting her through her own attempts to reach Gordash, especially as the chant was being sung. Dark magic lingered on the air, and she could feel it seeping into her body, charging her, causing her to yearn while she sucked in a quaking breath. So much power there was in this. It was just a chant, and still Kattica felt she might easily give in to it and collapse into its power.

She fought to keep her head.

She supposed this was the moment the old woman would pull Éowyn forward for the sacrifice and she knew she need act. "Relinquish the spell on the guard," Kattica called out to Bregus, trying not to sound demanding. At the same time, she put her command again to the larger man. Her eyes went to Gordash to see if she might find a response in him but there was nothing. She then directed her focus on the old woman. A smile crept over Bregus face but she said nothing, as if she did not hear. Her gaze was unfixed.

"Relinquish the spell on the guard!" Kattica cried out, trying to shake the woman awake with her words, but the smile continued, as did the words. And then suddenly she realized all the Romany were present in the room and the adjoining chamber. They did not linger out in the halls to wait on an attack. They were here, witnesses to Bregus transformation, though poor witnesses they were. Gordashs face mirrored them all.

"Bregus! Who guards the door? Bregus!" Kattica screamed, and then Curtik grabbed her beneath the elbow and pushed Kattica to the floor to sit beside Legolas.

"Pani, barban, yag e puv, boge'sko mabestipen. Pani, barban, yag e puv, boge'sko mabestipen! PANI, BARBAN, YAG E PUV, BOGE'SKO MABESTIPEN!"

Water, wind, fire and earth, give your power to me. The old woman was calling forth the spell without relinquishing the power over the others to Kattica. Kattica's heart thundered. This was not what should have been happening!

And then she was touched by Bregus, as words were spoken, "Kele bar!" and she supposed the Hunters Spell had been placed on her, only it did not take.

Yet, the witch was in a deep trance and did not appear to notice. She swayed under the spell, and Kattica felt the crushing power of it as the light flared and the wind gusted. "Gordash! The stones!" she cried, no longer caring to keep the secret contained. She had to pass the signal to Gimli. "Now! It is time!"

Gordash blinked as the wind pushed on him. The entire room was becoming a tunnel of noise and motion and the whipping air was extinguishing Bregus fire, as the light grew greater and greater. Yet Gordash did not move.

"Gordash, the stones!" she screamed but he did nothing in response to her cries.

Her hair was flying as she bounded on him. She would take them, she decided, and here too he seemed unmoved, apathetic. Her hands rushed at him, running to his waist and his pockets, but then stronger hands pushed her back, shoving her away from him and forcing her body to be lurched from behind. Her head whipped around to see who it was that was restraining her. Curtik's eyes met hers and they were black and endless in their wicked depths.

"Pani, barban, yag e puv, boge'sko mabestipen," he was chanting with a sinister smile curling his lips. Held tightly in his grip, she could feel the spell working its way through him. Bäla! He was fully Bäla by every definition of his magical power. She could feel his soul touching hers and He seemed to be growing in strength as she watched, and his eyes lit with a fire that matched the strength of the sun's glare. In that instant she realized he, being still in part of the Other World, had the ultimate power between them all and she could do nothing to stop it. The only thing left was to watch him and let him take what was not his. And then she felt her knees buckle beneath her as she slowly began to collapse to the floor.

Coming soon: "When All Is Done". Stay tuned!